Juked by M.E. Carter

for my face with his chubby hands. I pretend to bite them before he can reach me. “Have you been doing it for a long time?”
    She cocks her head to the side in thought. “Um, about six years now. I started off in college, but when my dad died, I switched over to cosmetology school so I could start working as soon as possible. I had guardianship over my sister Sarah, Chance’s mom,” She tilts her head to him. “I needed to have a career as quickly as possible. I’ve been doing it ever since.”
    “Wow, I’m impressed.”
    “Why?” she asks, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
    “You keep taking on the responsibility of raising someone. That’s admirable.”
    “Well, what would you do in that situation?”
    “The exact same thing you did,” I say reassuringly. “I know a lot of selfish people who wouldn’t, though. It’s nice to meet someone who has a real respect for family values. Not enough people do these days.”
    She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can speak, we’re interrupted by a little boy. He’s probably eight or nine and obviously a fan by the look of awe on his face.
    Even after all these years, it’s still weird when people recognize me on the street. I get it, because I was the exact same way, but it’s still strange when the attention is directed toward me.
    “¿Me das tu autógrafo?” “Claro. ¿Cómo te llamas?” I take the paper from him and scribble my standard signature and the number of my jersey on it.
    “Gabriel.”
    “ ¿Juegas fútbol, Gabriel? ”
    “Sí.” He smiles. “Soy delantero como tú. ”
    “Que bien. Tienes que seguir practicando si quieres ser profesional. ¿Okay? Saca buenas calificaciones y hazle caso a tu entrenador.”
    “Lo prometo.” I hand him back his paper. “¿Me puedo tomar una foto contigo? Mis amigos no me lo van a creer.” He’s smiling so wide. I remember what it was like to meet my favorite player when I was a kid. It’s kind of magical. So of course I’m gonna say yes.
    “Por supuesto. ¿Tienes tu teléfono?”
    He hands it to me and stands behind me so I can snap the pic for him. We smile for the camera quickly.
    “Gracias, Zavaro.”
    He takes the phone from me and races away, probably back to his parents.
    I turn to Quincy. She has a strange look on her face.
    “What?” I ask sheepishly. I know this just opened the door to her finding out about my job. It’s not a secret but I’m enjoying her not knowing anything about my choice in career. I love what I do, but sometimes it’s nice to talk about other things, too.
    “What was all that about?”
    I chuckle. “I take it you don’t speak any Spanish.”
    “Beyond the Pappasito’s menu, not a word,” she says with a grimace.
    “How can you live in Houston and not know any Spanish?” I ask.
    “I took a couple years in high school. I still know how to count to twenty, if that’s any consolation.”
    “Impressive,” I say, shifting Chance to my shoulder and patting him on the back. He’s gotten wiggly in the last couple of months.
    She quirks an eyebrow at me. “So are you going to tell me why some random kid came up and got a selfie with you?”
    “It happens sometimes because of my job.” She gives me a confused look. “He asked for my autograph. I’m a soccer player. I play for the Mutiny. The kid was just excited to meet a professional player.”
    Quincy sits up straight, like she’s shocked by my revelation, but she recovers quickly. “That explains the overly muscular calves, I guess.”
    I give her a flirty smile. “So you’ve been checking out my legs, have you?”
    “They’re hard to miss,” she says with a smile. “They are larger than the average legs.”
    Chance takes that moment to start squirming and getting fussy.
    “As fun as this is, I think this is my cue to go home.” Quincy takes Chance out of my arms, and he nuzzles into her neck. She straps him into his carrier.
    “Did you get everything you needed, or do we