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Before I could react to that, Filipe asked, “Wait a minute, Matty. What happened to the nursery in the main house?”
“Nursery?” I asked, now curious. Joan straightened the driver’s seat and slid in. With my knees pressed against the back of her seat, I felt trapped in the back. “And, oh my God, you weren’t wrong about the back seat, Matty.” I was practically in his lap. “If we weren’t already acquainted, we would be now.”
If it wasn’t for the awkwardly shaped duffel bag draped over our legs, my right hand would land right in his crotch. Matty fitted an arm around my shoulder and I nestled closer. He smelled like the salty ocean, minty lip balm, and the faint, clean scent of his deodorant.
Filipe chuckled. “You two behave back there.”
“Just so you all know,” I added, “this is what a coach class seat feels like. It’s claustrophobic, not romantic.”
Joan laughed. “Good thing you won’t have to experience coach airfare ever again.” She turned in her seat to face the back seat, her expression one of glee. “But, to answer your question, before you arrived, Ciaran, Matty here was brainstorming ways to get you out of the guesthouse. He wanted Miss Paulina to decorate a nursery for you.”
“You are not helping, Joan.” Matty’s frustrated groan amused me. “Why don’t you stick to driving?”
“I am an excellent multitasker,” she said. She fired up the car and shot out of the cul-de-sac like a jet at takeoff. “Of course, Ciaran,” she yelled over the rumble of the car’s high-octane engine, “this all occurred before we realized that you weren’t a baby but a major babe.” It was my turn to blush. At least Matty was willing to admit he was wrong. “When Matty wouldn’t let me jump your bones, Filipe and I knew how the wind was blowing.”
“What?” I sputtered. I knew that Joan was flirty, but she wanted to jump my bones? I didn’t think a girl had ever said that to me. Matty’s shoulders shook with laughter and I felt him vibrate against me. “There is so much to unpack here but maybe I should only just say, ‘thank you for the compliment,’ and leave it at that.”
“Smart move,” Filipe said. “Took me years to come to that realization.”
“Oh, just go back to napping, why don’t you,” Joan said without heat.
To me, it was clear the three of them were extremely close. A warm feeling spread through my chest because they were including me. For the first time since leaving Vegas, I didn’t have a hopeless sensation deep in my gut.
“Tell Matty to keep Coach Anderson off our asses,” Filipe griped, “and maybe I can stay awake after practice to satisfy you, mi amor.”
“I can’t help that Coach is a prick,” Matty replied.
“Speaking of Coach Anderson,” I called out. “Matty said you guys had more information about the, uh, situation.”
Joan and Filipe were silent for a long moment and worry briefly gnawed at my belly. I saw that Joan’s gaze flickered in the rearview mirror whereas Filipe turned to look Matty directly in the face. It was clear they were asking if it was okay to discuss it with me. I admired their loyalty.
Matty nodded. “Filipe, why don’t you fill Ciaran in on your theory.”
“So, here’s the thing, Coach Anderson is a killer coach,” Filipe started. “He knows the sport inside and out, but he’s not connected here on the West Coast. He’s from, like Nebraska or something. Not that that’s a bad thing, but Nebraska’s a far cry from Malibu. Do you get what I’m saying?”
“It’s a different country out here,” Joan added.
“I get what you mean,” I said. “Go on.”
“So he’d been coaching for two years at USC before Matty entered the program. Coach latched onto our boy hard and fast, like a fuckin’ leech. When your family is the twentieth-richest family in the entire world, you get straphangers like that. For a while we thought he was coming on to Matty, like a groomer or something, but he never so much as put a hand on Matty.”
“Coach threw a lot of stuff at me, though,” Matty said.
“Coach is a terrible shot, so he ended up hitting all of us,” Filipe said with a short laugh. “Anyway, Coach starts setting up meetings with Stefon, blowing smoke up his ass at every turn. Listen, Stefon’s not stupid. That man’s like a second father to me. He can see a con a mile off, but Coach Anderson’s an Olympic Gold Medalist. You can’t buy that shit, you know, so it’s hard to argue with his pedigree. Matty’s smart, too, but when he gets super-focused on a goal, everything else sort of blurs.”
“Harsh,” I said. “Are you guys friends or frenemies?”
“We’re honest with each other, Ciaran,” Matty answered. “Even when it hurts.”
“We love you too, babe,” Joan said to Matty as she drove us into Los Angeles.
Matty grumbled as Filipe continued his theory. “Anyway. It’s no secret that Matty casually partakes in illegal substances. It’s Cali, my dude. We were all snorting, drinking, or toking by the time we were thirteen. Matty’s birthday was coming up—this was back in February—and Coach Anderson throws him a birthday party back at his place. Nothing too crazy, just us from the team, and a few others. At least that’s how Coach phrased it.”
Matty tensed up beside me and I couldn’t help but get nervous about the rest of Filipe’s story. I reached up to squeeze the hand that was at my shoulder and he leaned his head against mine. We were so cocooned in the backseat that even Joan’s tight turns didn’t upset our positioning.
“Coach hired two male escorts because, well, everyone on the team is pretty clued into Matty’s type. It doesn’t take long for cocaine to show up. We’re all having a good time.”
“Everyone was doing lines,” Joan said. Her driving speed slowed considerably as she navigated down residential and business streets. “Coach, too.”
