Chapter Twelve
Bee
For the first time I felt the immediate effects of a bad interview.
“Well…that could’ve gone worse!” Nina exclaimed as she led us out of the press room. I’d believe her if I didn’t see sweat stains under her armpits.
“It can always be worse.” I heard Nola mumble behind me.
“They could’ve played a recap of every time we’ve almost fought on the court.” I said absentmindedly.
“Nah, you’re forgetting the guy who just gave us a tally instead.”
“Right…” I snorted then covered my mouth with my hand. Under no circumstances would I laugh at a joke Nola Young told me. We were far from camaraderie.
Somewhere behind us, I heard Marcello struggling to keep up with our long strides. I didn’t know if the cameras were still glued to his hands, and I thought I’d scream if I saw another red dot blinking in my face.
At some point in our disaster press conference, Amir, Aaliyah, and Daya had formed a semi-circle, probably exchanging agent tips and tricks. Maybe feeling out who was looking for a new hire given there was no way Nola and I were lasting long as professionals in the league.
I could admit when I was wrong—majority of the time—and I hated that I acted like a child in front of everyone. I knew the press would see my passive aggressive comments and antagonizing as unserious. But that didn’t matter, because I was disappointed in my own behavior.
I’d let Nola get under my skin again. I saw her nonchalant attitude, and decided to e go on the opposite end of the spectrum. No one held back about asking about her mom’s hire to her former team, and even that she’d addressed with maturity and diplomacy.
Me on the other hand? Everyone would’ve had a piece of my mind. I grew up with that expectation I would respect my elders, but getting traded from a team I would’ve spent my whole life on was betrayal. It was a slap in the face. It was hurtful.
And yet she took it with ease.
At some point, either I’d slowed down, or Nola sped up, because we were now shoulder to shoulder.
Her scent wafted up my nostrils, fighting to make its way to the front of my brain.
I think she smelled like warmth, and jasmine.
I wondered how I could get a better whiff without coming off like a freak.
That is not why we’re here.
Right. I was angry, holding a grudge. Making my enemy rival teammate’s life as uncomfortable as possible.
“Lee, I was hoping we could talk.”
“I feel like we’ve already done a lot of that today.”
“I know, but we’ve kinda been…” She waved her arms around. “Surrounded non-stop?”
“I would rather eat a denim jacket than talk to you alone, Nola.” I huffed.
“I know, and I know that’s my fault, I just want to clear the air.”
I turned my head to get Marcello in my peripheral. He was only down to one camera hand as he texted with the other, but I couldn’t tell if the camera was recording or not.
“I’ll think about it when we’re free of an audience.” I nodded my head to his general position. Nola turned her head to confirm then nodded.
“Right.”
We made it to the end of the hallway and back out to our trucks then Nina blocked the door.
“Okay! I’ll lead y’all over to org housing right over the bridge in Wynwood,” Nina started.
“We?” Nola asked.
“Not to be rude, but aren’t you the head of marketing?” Damn I missed Perry. “Why would you be giving us a tour?”
I didn’t know if Nina was used to people who asked questions.
Maybe most women were just grateful to be playing in general—let alone for a reactivated team—but between Nola and I, and our sibling/best friend agents, no one was making this easy for Nina.
This was a shit position, but something told me Nina would also rather be somewhere else, and not the bearer of bad news.
I made a mental note to send her a bottle of wine to her office. Only because I kind of felt bad.
Her grimace pulled at the skin that wouldn’t move on her face, and her sweat stains seemingly grew in size.
“I promise, this is the last surprise!” Nina yelled then pivoted as the rest of the group pestered her back with questions.