The Hustler [Alex Gaskarth]

Chapter Eight: The Song

   "Run. RUN. RUN, YOU PUSSY! TAKE THE FUCKING BALL AND RUN!"

   "FUMBLE! THE FUCK WAS THAT, ASSHOLE?!"

   "GETTING REAL TIRED OF YOUR SHIT, STREETER."

   That was what I spent the majority of my Sunday listening to. Alex had invited me to come over and watch the Ravens at the Chiefs with him, Jack, Zack, and Zack's girlfriend Mila, and they really weren't doing well. In fact, they were getting their asses kicked by two touchdowns and a field goal, and it was already the third down in the final quarter.

   In other words, they were screwed. Mila, Zack's girlfriend, seemed to be the most upset of them all. Apparently, before she'd met Zack, she hadn't known anything about football. Twelve months later, she was almost more into the game than the players themselves were.

   As for myself, I wasn't as into the game as Mila. I liked football, certainly, and I definitely supported the Ravens, but I wasn't nearly as obsessive-compulsive about it as the rest of them were. Mostly because Lucy always forced me out on Sundays, or we stayed home, and she tried to guilt me into going to church (a place I hadn't been since I'd left home for university), which usually ended in a James Marsden movie marathon.

   After the game, the guys all looked insane. Their greasepaint was running, the purple extension Zack had let Mila clip into his short hair was dangling from just above his ear, and Alex had salsa on the front of his jersey.

   When I pointed it out to him, he opened his arms wide, and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, so it smeared all over the front of my purple hoodie.

   "Alex!" I shrieked.

   "Lia!" He shrieked back. "Why are we yelling?"

   "Because you're a buttface. Now let me go."

   Jack laughed. "Yeah, buttface! Let her go!"

   Alex squeezed me one more time and lifted me off my feet, then set me back down on the ground. I looked down at my hoodie to assess the damage, and Mila laughed.

   "Don't worry, Lia. I'll help you. Alex does this to me all the time. Come on. We have to rinse it out quickly." She grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me out of the living room, down a small hallway, all the way to the laundry/mud room just inside the garage door.

   I unzipped my hoodie and placed it in her outstretched hand.

   "Okay, so first, we rinse it out with cold water," she coached, turning on the sink. "Then, you apply stain remover and rinse it out again."

   She demonstrated, then continued. "Then you re-apply the stain remover, and put it in the washing machine as soon as you get home."

   I took the hoodie back from her. "Great. Awesome. Thanks."

   A loud clattering came from the direction of the kitchen, and I startled. "We better go see what that was."

   I opened the door from the laundry room, when Mila spoke.

   "I know."

   The door closed. "What do you know?"

   "I know about you... being the Hustler." She said softly. I must have looked surprised, because she rushed into her explanation. "Zack kind of told me. He's kind of quiet if you don't know him, but he's terrible at keeping secrets once he gets to know you."

   "Who'd of thought that Zack would be the blabbermouth?" I smiled hesitantly. I wasn't sure how Mila felt about me yet, and I didn't want to say too much until she had placed a few more cards on the table.