Chapter 70

“I’m kinda beat,” Dante admits. “I was just calling to see what you wanted? I have to get to bed—”

“How’d the quarters go?” Bobby wants to know.

It’s a ploy to keep him on the phone, Dante knows this, but he likes to talk about skating and he’s still excited about the race, so he leans back against the counter, props the phone between his ear and shoulder, crosses his arms and says with a smile, “Kick ass, man. I’m going to State. I came in fast on the five hundred, blew everyone else away.”

“Do you always come fast?” Bobby asks, then he laughs at his lame attempt at a joke. Dante doesn’t think it’s very funny. When he clears his throat, uncomfortable, Bobby tells him, “I saw you on TV. Damn, boy! You in Lycra. You have a tight ass.”

“You called to tell me that?” Dante asks. He hates the angry quiver in his voice, and he balls his hands into fists to keep them from trembling. “Look, Bobby, I gotta go—”