Interlude 1
Connie: Hey, love. Sorry for texting at such a late hour. I wanted to discuss something with you.
Damien: Connie! Good to hear from you. I’m at one of Markoz’s gallery openings, so I can’t step away to make a phone call, but what’s up?
Connie: I had the strangest email from Anamária Costa earlier today. You’re one of her son’s coaches.
Damien: I am. What was the email?
Connie: She was asking if he’d be on Team USA or not.
Damien: Well, that’s what we’re all wondering, darling.
Connie: I understand. But the way she worded the email, especially at the end, made it sound like she was almost threatening to expose how she’d helped connect my son Zane to private coaches in Connecticut when he was in high school.
Damien: Oh, that? You didn’t do anything wrong there.
Connie: I know, and she knows that, too.
It’s like she was equating what I’d asked her to do with what she was asking me to do.
Ridiculous. She’s lucky I respect Adonis as an athlete, and that I’m a professional.
Her whole message left a bad taste in my mouth, but I won’t let it affect how I evaluate Adonis.
Damien: ….so, will he be on Team USA?
Connie: Bye, Damien.