Page 89 of Penalty Shots
Keelan
"Maybe look a little less like you want to murder each other," Jenny says from her place next to Izzy.
"I don't want to murder him. I want to murder, O-zone for purposefully squirting oil down my ass crack." I give my teammate a look.
"Tit for tat," Zane says, shaking the oil bottle.
"Guys," Jenny says, exasperated. "I need full cooperation."
"What do you want us to do, Ms. Cobbs?" Redmond asks. He's also half naked and oiled up next to me in front of the green screen that will be a winter wonderland backdrop once the calendar is done.
"I just need my Decembers to look like they are actually friendly," she says.
Rina, who's been quiet the entire shoot, gets up from her director-like chair. "Or… maybe they don't," she suggests.
"Rina," Jenny begins. "This is my shoot. We're going to go with my direction."
"Wearegoing with your direction, Jenny. Camaraderie, right? Two teams, one calendar, a cross-promotion. We're doing it. But these players are the best in their own right. You can't expect them to swing an arm around each other and singKumbaya. They should look like what they are—rivals, standing together."
Jenny thinks for a moment, just looking at her colleague. "Rivals… standing together," she repeats thoughtfully.
Rina nods.
"Okay," Jenny turns back to Redmond and me. "Keelan, I want you to face this side of the arena and hold this." She tosses me a hockey stick, and I catch it.
Then to Redmond, "I want you to face the other side and put your left foot on this." She tosses him a soccer ball.
"Izzy, you got the shot." My sister works around us, snapping photo after photo, then straightens and gives her a thumbs up.
"I got it," Izzy says.
"Great! Then that's a wrap, people. Toby, get the finished photos from Izzy and work with the art department to get the new mockup."
Toby gives her a salute, and I'm itching to shower and be done.
Everyone starts clearing the area, and after I snap my towel on Zane's ass for over-oiling me. Redmond asks if he could have a word with me.
"I'd rather eat my own toenails," I tell him. "Actually, I'd rather eat any of my teammate's toenails than have a word with you."
I keep walking away from him.
"Landry… please," he says woefully.
I turn to face him.
"Fine, but it'll be on my own terms, Bonner."
He lifts his hands up in surrender. "Fine."
It doesn't take long for DJ Nova to get set up. Mostly because tonight is a home game, and he was going to be here anyway.
Bonner steps into the gym space, where I have my old friend ready with a mashup playlist.
"Are you serious, Landry?"
"Lights!" I call out.
The lights go out, and the DJ booth has a single beam pointed at the center of the room.