19. Kodi
CHAPTER 19
Friday morning, I head to the office early to get a jumpstart on some paperwork. We’ve got an earlier practice tonight to make sure the team can get plenty of rest before our first real match of the season against Spring Chickens, the adult living community in the next township over.
Most of the team doesn’t think we need to practice at all, seeing as we’ll be playing a bunch of senior citizens. But retirees have plenty of time to practice–they could be tossing bean six hours a day if they wanted to–a fact that everyone but me seems to forget. I swear, sometimes it feels like I’m the only person who takes this cornhole league seriously.
Regardless, with all the extra practices and ‘reconnaissance’ on Brian (as Dr. Cratchet calls it), I’ve fallen dangerously behind on faxing insurance claims and prior authorizations. We’ve started to get phone calls.
I promised the boss I’d come in at seven today to take care of them, and when I walk in the door I’m surprised to see the old man himself seated at the office computer.
“I didn’t expect to see you here this early, sir.” I hang my purse on the hook and set down my travel mug beside the coffee pot. Then I start brewing a batch for the two of us.
“I’m just checking on my investments.” He doesn’t even look away from the screen. “It’s never too early to save for retirement, you know, Miss Gander. Have you begun your portfolio yet? There are some promising companies close to home that might surprise you!”
“Can’t say I’ve given it much thought, sir.”
“It’s never too early to invest! A penny saved is a penny earned, you know. I always keep a close eye on my portfolio.” His mustache twitches, and he spins around in my office chair. “Speaking of, how is our little intelligence mission going?”
My neck prickles uncomfortably at his steady gaze on my back. I technically never agreed to spy on Brian. However, I have been taking advantage of the time off Dr. Cratchet has given me in order to get my knee fixed.
The problem was, I wasn’t expecting to like Brian as much as I do. As a friend. As a professional. Despite his lack of business skills, there’s no denying he’s incredibly intelligent and talented at what he does. And it’s not just me that’s going to benefit from him moving to this town: now that he’s got an in at Nick’s gym, he’s bound to get a ton of regular patients.
I pretend to be preoccupied with filling the carafe and measuring the coffee grounds. When the doctor clears his throat impatiently, I feign ignorance. “What was that, sir?”
“Your reconnaissance assignment! On the spine cracker.” He’s standing behind me now. He leans in as he whispers the words, infusing them with a conspiratorial air. I flinch, still facing the sink away from him.
“Well, sir, I believe it’s going well. I had another appointment.” The one we’re not going to talk about. My face heats at the memory. Despite agreeing with Brian to forget that I ever saw his penis, I just can’t seem to think of anything else.
When I’m washing dishes in the evening: penis.
Out for drinks with Lily and Callie at the Crowbar: penis.
Planning out the weekend line-up for our cornhole match: sexy V of muscles pointing directly into a patch of curly hair with a big ol’—
“Another one?” Doctor Cratchet puffs a dismissive breath from his hairy nostrils, disturbing his walrus mustache. “Seems a little odd to be supporting his business. I thought we settled that incongruity with the romantic relationship idea. Gain access to his practice without paying his bills, yes?”
“I’m not paying him,” I say, realizing a split second after I do that it was completely inappropriate to do so.
Not to mention, it puts me at risk of revealing the true nature of Brian’s and my bargain: he gives me free adjustments and I help him set up the business side of things. Shoring up his practice so that it has a chance at becoming a mainstay in the community.
Doctor Cratchet can’t know about that. At all.
“Oh-ho-ho!” He slides out of my office chair, a spring in his squeaky step. “Are you trading unsavory favors, Miss Gander? A little tit for tat as they say?”
He practically giggles with glee as he approaches me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Your loyalty knows no bounds. To think, a formerly upstanding woman such as yourself would turn on her own values for her duty to her place of employment. Fealty over honor!”
His gnarly fingers dig into my deltoid in an iron grip. “Uh, sir, I’m not–”
“No, no, Kodi. No need to defend yourself. I knew the day I hired you, you would be an inscrutable asset to this team. Inscrutable, because I could not, at that time, comprehend the extent to which you’d debase yourself for this firm and its values. You’re earning that twenty-one dollars an hour!”
“Twenty-two, sir.”
“Ah, and enterprising, too!” His eyes twinkle at me behind his glasses. I swallow. “Fine, fine, you’re right. You deserve it. Twenty-two. I’ll recommend the increase to the board.” His grip finally loosens and he pats me on the back. “Now you make sure you save that extra dollar into something that will earn you dividends! I recommend that new crypto company in Spitz Hollow–you didn’t hear it from me, but they are making waves!” He says the last bit over his shoulder as he makes his way towards his office, leaving me to my sanctuary in the rear lobby/office/breakroom that is my domain. “Be a dear and bring me a cup when the coffee is done brewing. You know how I like it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once I hear his door click closed behind him, I run to the desk and crouch over my keyboard to close out of whatever browser the doctor had open. What is it with doctors and insecure computer protocol? For someone who’s supposedly investing in tech, he doesn’t seem particularly invested in understanding it.
But before I close out of the window, I see the number at the top of Dr. Cratchet’s stock portfolio. The one displaying his total assets. My knees buckle.
Not that that’s anything new, but this time it isn’t pain that does it.
That’s a lotta zeroes!
Intrigued, I scroll down to the little exclamation mark highlighting a new notification.
Highest Return Q2 Investment: Spitz-Shein Inc.
A couple more clicks, and I’m now looking at a graph comparing his individual investments and returns. The bookkeeper in me is intrigued, and my fingers are itching to comb through all the data.
Maybe there’s something to this investing thing.
The coffee pot dings, bringing me back to reality and alerting me to the fact that I’ve been nosing around my boss’s private financial records for the past five minutes instead of getting started on paperwork. I finally close out of the browser, but not before I see that “Spitz-Shein Inc.” has returned 800% on Dr. Cratchet’s significant early investment.
I make a mental note to do a little more research on them later.
By the time I bring the boss his coffee and settle down with my own cup at the computer (now displaying the documents I actually should be focusing on), I hear the metallic clatter of the maildrop cover, along with the thunk of today’s post falling into the box.
Always right as I sit down…
The Pecker is right on top of the pile as always.
Muscle-Men Mingle, Marketing MMA Mark-Down
That’s right, sports fans! You heard it here first: Tuft Swallow’s newest tenant is teaming up with Hometown Hero Nicholas “Odd Duck” D’Onofrio to offer a discount to members of the MMA gym Put Up Your Ducks! So if you’ve taken one too many hits, take a gander at this Gosling’s offer of a free health consultation and fitness plan for any fighter at That’s Good Crack!
It might not be as steamy as the other rumors swirling around Tuft Swallow’s newest Doc, but our sources did manage to capture a picture from the business negotiation. Seems like Pizza Queen Tina Falcone and Captain Kodi Gander are some lucky ladies, indeed!
Below the story is a picture of Brian and Nick, decked out in protective gear and squaring up in the practice ring at Nick’s gym. They’re both wearing sleeveless shirts, and while the photo itself is fairly tame, the way the sweat pouring down their arms is making both men’s muscles shine in the fluorescent lights is…downright sinful.
I lick my lips and wipe my mouth of the slight dribble of drool as the sight reminds me of another time I saw moisture drip down Brian’s–
Nope!
Nooooope.
Not gonna go there!
I slam the paper face-down on the island in the middle of the break room, and flip through the rest of the various junkmail and weekly periodicals. The actual newspaper is also in the bundle, which I gather up with a few promotional pamphlets and deposit them into the file holder on my boss’s closed door.
Is it hot in here? I pick up the rest of the mail and fan myself with it as I walk back to my desk.
I really didn’t need any more reminders today of how attractive my fake boyfriend is. I certainly don’t need those thoughts distracting me yet again from getting important work done.
At this rate, I don’t even need to help Brian with his business. I’m already giving him an edge by shirking my duties here. By the time I piss off all the patients at the clinic, they’ll be clawing down his door to get some actual help. Then he won’t need me at all anymore.
I try not to read into the twinge of disappointment that curls in my chest at that thought.
Phloot-phloot! “Again!”
“I swear to God, Kodi, I’m going to rip that whistle right out of your mouth–”
Phloot-phloot! “What’s that, Lily?” I toot again on the whistle, gesturing for the next line of players to run to the end of the field.
“Why–are–we–doing this–again?” D’Shawn, one of our better tossers and a teacher at Tuft Swallow Middle, pants as he jogs back to the starting line.
“Endurance!” I shout back. He clutches a stitch in his side.
“Maybe we could take five, Kodi? Even I’m a little out of breath.” Finn, the Middle School gym teacher, does seem to be losing steam.
The sun is already sinking below the treeline at the park, and we only have about a half an hour of daylight left. We still haven’t gotten through all the drills I wanted to before this weekend’s match.
I frown at Finn. “Really? I thought this would be easy for you guys.”
He gives me an incredulous look. I shrug. Phloot-phloot!
A series of groans echoes through the field as the next row starts their sprint (or, really, a pathetic jog) down to the cones at the other end. I clap my hands together and admit defeat.
“Alright, everyone, hydrate! Then back to the field for practice games. Go!”
No one makes eye contact as they pass me to get to their water bottles and gear at the end of the field. A few of them mutter to each other, but the second I hear more talking than drinking, I blow on the whistle again to get everyone back on the field.
An hour later, we wrap up, and the team hobbles off to their cars. Except for Lily and Callie, who make their way over to me.
“Kodi,” Callie whines. “You have a problem.”
“Tell me about it. We’re never gonna win at this rate.”
Lily rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because half the team is going to quit.”
“What?” I snort. “Yeah right, Lily. This town eats, sleeps, and breathes cornhole. Nobody’s going to quit the team and risk losing the championship.”
A look passes between Callie and Lily. One that I don’t quite understand. Lily nods to her as if answering an unspoken question, and Callie starts gathering up the practice boards on the field. Then Lily lifts her eyes to me and takes a deep breath.
“Are you…okay?”
I stare at her. “Never better. Why?”
“You seem…” She trails off, shuffling her feet a little as she searches for the right words. “Like you did back in high school.”
I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Softball was my life in high school. By junior year, Coach had me staying after school an extra two hours a day practicing my pitch. Training me to make sure I was in tip-top shape for when the college scouts would come around. I wasn’t just Tuft Swallow’s star player, I was one of the best in New England. After the spring season that year, I had offers from six different Division I schools.
But I could always be better. Coach made sure I knew that.
“You’re getting obsessed. Like nothing’s good enough. Like you were back then.”
I tilt my head at her, still not understanding. “We can always get better, Lily.”
“Yeah, but like, why? Why do we have to? Why can’t we just have fun?”
I shake my head. Of course she would feel that way.
Lily had already been headed for community college after high school. Whereas I studied and practiced hard, aiming to go out of state on a full ride when I graduated, she was content to stay in tiny town. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It just means that she doesn’t have the same ambition that I do.
“Not everything’s about having fun,” I mutter.
Now it’s her turn to cross her arms. “Excuse me?”
“You know what, it’s fine. I get it. You and I just look at this kinda thing differently, okay? We always have. You’ve never had the whole team’s success on your shoulders. It’s never been up to you to bring home the gold. You get to have fun. You get to party on the bus home from regionals, and you get to hook up with the wrestling team after pep rallies. Meanwhile, there are other people working to make sure we get where we’re supposed to go.”
A beat. Then, “What?” Lily throws her hands up in the air, looking at me like I just grew another head. “Kodi, what the fuck are you even talking about?”
“Nevermind. Just drop it, okay?”
“No! I won’t just drop it. Who the hell told you that school sports and cornhole aren’t supposed to be fun?”
A few evening joggers look at us curiously, as well as a couple of seniors in turquoise windbreakers who happen to be sitting on a bench nearby. I shiver. The air has gotten damp since the sun set, and a gusty breeze makes it feel like there might be a thunderstorm rolling in.
“Kodi,” Lily begins, more quietly, as if she too has noticed the other people around. “This doesn’t have to be life-or-death. It’s a beer league. Sure, we want to win. But it’s not supposed to be work.”
I shake my head. Coach always said that some people just aren’t cut out for the competition. That’s why I had to work extra hard. To make up for their shortcomings.
I had to practice. I had to get closer and closer to pitching perfect games, so it didn’t matter how good the rest of the team was. As long as I could make sure the other guys didn’t score, we were fine. I was fine.
And once my knee is back up to snuff, I’ll be fine again. I won’t have to worry about the rest of the team. But until then, everyone else needs to step up their game.
Callie walks back up to us, and I snap out of my memories long enough to realize she packed up all the equipment while we were talking. She hands me the keys to my Subaru. “They’re all in the trunk.”
“Oh. Wow Callie, thanks.”
She and Lily share a look again. And, again, I feel like there’s something I’m not getting.
“Kodi, do you want to get a drink and talk about this a little more? Somewhere you feel comfortable?”
Comfortable? Why wouldn’t I be comfortable on the field?
“Not really.” I fiddle with my keys, finding the car fob and picking my bag up off the ground. “Actually, I kinda just want to go home and rest. Someone’s gotta make sure everything’s ready to go for the game tomorrow.”
“The match, you mean,” Callie says.
“What?” I look up at her, and she meets my gaze with wide, innocent eyes.
“It’s a match, technically. Cause it’s a bunch of single match-ups? A game would be if it’s a team sport, like football or soccer.”
“Or softball,” Lily adds pointedly.
I shake my head. “Right. Match. Well,” I hike my bag on my shoulder and give the girls a wave. “Regardless, I’ll see you tomorrow at the senior center.”
“Take it easy, Kodi.”
Not really sure what that even means, I head to my car and drive home alone.