Chapter 2 #2
“Sounds fun,” I say, meaning it. I enjoyed the short stint staying at their place. Kinsley is all sass and outspoken, and her girlfriend Skylar is sweet and a little shy. They’re really cute together and they were so welcoming to me.
“So you’re in?” she asks in a tone that suggests she already knows I’m not coming.
“I need to finish moving my stuff into the rental. Another night? Maybe you two could come help me break in the new house?”
“You’re so legit, renting a whole house. So adult.” She lifts one shoulder and shoots me a smirk.
“It’s way more space than I need,” I admit.
“I can’t believe the rent is so cheap.”
“Well, it’s only available until the first of the year.”
“Fully furnished though, right?”
“Yeah, but unfurnished might have been better.”
“That bad?”
“The décor is…let’s go with outdated.” Cluttery is another good word for it.
Every inch of wall and shelf space (at least what I saw before the cops showed up) is filled with what my father used to call “dustables.” The woman who owns it didn’t want the house to sit empty while she was gone for so long, but she also didn’t want anyone coming in and moving or changing things around.
She would have been better off hiring a house sitter, but lucky for me she didn’t.
It isn’t a long-term solution, but it will do for now.
“You could have just stayed with us, you know?”
“I know, but…” I trail off. I felt like an imposition, even if they assured me that I wasn’t. Plus, their place is so small already without me crashing on the couch.
“I get it, but if you get lonely in that big house, then you know who to call.”
I nod. “Thanks, girl.”
She lifts her bag to her shoulder. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
She starts to walk off, then calls over her shoulder, “Try being on time tomorrow, Walsh.”
I huff a laugh. What a bitch. God, I love her.
As I pull up in front of the scene of the crime, I mean the house I’m renting, I sit in my Jeep and stare at it. If the key isn’t waiting under the mat, I’m turning around and going to Kinsley’s house.
My phone pings from the middle console. I glance at it, but when I see my agent Everly’s name, I decide to wait until I’m inside to respond.
I step out of the car and look around. The neighborhood is even more stunning in the daylight. It’s like something out of a movie depicting upper class suburbia. I did not grow up like this. We were very solidly lower middle class. I had the essentials in life, but very little outside of that.
The first time I got sponsored for gymnastics, a whopping thousand dollars to do a photo shoot wearing a designer leotard, I thought I’d hit it big.
The thought brings a smile to my face. If sixteen-year-old me could have only seen this.
Despite all the shitty things that have gone down in the past week, I’m here.
I made it. I’m so close I can practically taste it.
I grab a box from the back seat and head up to the front porch. The key is, miraculously, exactly where the realtor said it would be. I let myself in and drop the box in the entryway.
“Woah,” I say, tilting my head back to take in the tall ceilings. There’s a very expensive looking, almost gaudy, chandelier hanging in the entryway. I didn’t have a chance to really look around last night, what with the police showing up only minutes after I got inside through the upper window.
The memory has a fresh wave of shame rolling over me. I didn’t do anything wrong, but it was so humiliating.
My phone rings from my front pocket. Everly has switched from texting to calling and a new kind of unease pricks my skin.
I accept the call and hit speaker. “Hi, Ev.”
“Hello,” she says almost as if she hadn’t expected me to answer.
“Sorry I missed you earlier. It’s been a day. I spent the evening at the police station.” I walk back out of the house to grab another box from my Jeep. “Long story short, there was a misunderstanding with my new rental.”
“I heard.”
I pause in the middle of the driveway. It’s cloudy out today with a crisp fall breeze that whips around me almost ominously. “You did?”
My steps resume, but I walk slowly as I wait for her to explain how she’s already heard about the most mortifying night of my life.
“Yes. Meyer called me this afternoon.”
Silence falls between us. My throat tightens and my heart rate picks up speed. Meyer is my sponsor. They’re a sports apparel company, specializing mostly in tennis, but this summer they added a dozen new athletes across a wide range of sports, including me, in an effort to expand into other areas.
“Wait. How do they know?”
“I’m not sure, honestly. I thought for sure they had the wrong client, but then I did a quick search on your name, and it does come up in an incident report from last night.”
Somehow this only gets more humiliating.
She continues as I rub two fingers across my forehead. “But unless they were looking for it, I really have no clue how they found out so quickly.”
“This is so embarrassing. Should I call them to explain?”
She’s quiet for a beat.
“Everly?”
She lets out a long breath. “Listen, I won’t beat around the bush. They’re being real jerks about it, and I don’t think talking to them is going to help. They’re claiming the incident puts you in breach of your contract.”
A full body panic washes over me. “How?”
“They’re pointing to the morality clause. I’m having the lawyers look at it as we speak. The wording is a little vague, but they may have grounds to drop their sponsorship—”
Her words turn to static noise in my head. They want to drop me for going to the police station to clear up something I didn’t even do?
“But I didn’t do anything wrong. It was a misunderstanding.
” A short, rough laugh escapes from my lips, despite the fact I don’t feel like this situation is the least bit funny.
“I moved into my new place last night, but the realtor forgot to leave a key, so I went in through a window, and I guess a neighbor called because they thought I was breaking in and then when the police showed up, I agreed to go with them until they could verify my story.”
I take a deep breath, then add, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
It feels like if I just keep saying it, maybe it’ll clear away all suspicion.
“I know,” Everly says in a tone that bleeds sincerity. “I already knew this was a misunderstanding even before you explained it. If I really thought you were out there breaking and entering into homes, this call would have been to say I was dropping you.”
The pit in my stomach turns into a boulder. I don’t know what I’d do without Everly. She’s fought for me from day one. She’s the reason I have a sponsor at all and the reason I’m here in Moonshot training at Premier. She believes in me in a way few others do.
“Okay,” I say, swallowing hard. “What now? If I can’t call them, what else can I do?”
Everly is a well-respected agent. If she tells Meyer that I didn’t do it, then they’ll believe her. Right?
She lets out a heavy sigh. “To be honest, I don’t think they really believe you did it either.
Or rather, I don’t think they care. This is about them avoiding any potential bad press.
They just had that scandal with the president of their board having an inappropriate relationship with one of their athletes and I think they’re still in damage control mode. ”
“There has to be something I can do.” I continue walking to my Jeep. In crisis, I’ve found that moving forward is the only way not to drown in anxiety.
“I’m on it. I only wanted to give you a heads-up in case they contact you directly. If they do, don’t respond until the lawyers have gone over the contract and I know all our options.”
“All right.” Doing nothing is sort of the opposite of my natural tendency but at least for tonight I can focus on moving in and getting settled. “Thanks, Ev.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Voices in the background grow louder as if Everly is walking into a room full of people. “I have to go. I’ll be in touch later tonight or tomorrow.”
I nod, say goodbye, and then end the call. With my phone still clutched in one hand, I let out a breath. Everly will fix this. She has to. I can’t even think about any other outcome. A new notification pings and I refocus, blinking away the haze as I unlock my phone. One new email.
The panic resumes its chokehold on me as I click on it. Everly warned me they might reach out but seeing it in writing has a new sort of terror clawing at my insides. It’s short and concise. Somehow polite and rude at the same time.
Dear Ms. Walsh,
We regret to inform you that due to recent behavior, you have broken clause 14.1.3 in your contract, as stated below. As such, we are terminating our partnership effective immediately.
We wish you the best of luck in the future.
It’s signed by some big shot company lawyer who no doubt spends his days crushing hopes and dreams like its sport. Okay, that’s probably not fair, but neither is sending me this bullshit email without even hearing my side of the story.
I let out a growl of frustration as I grip my phone tightly and drop my arm to my side.
I need that sponsorship. Without it I can’t afford…
well, anything. The little I have stowed away from prize money and other endorsements won’t last three months here in Moonshot.
The gym fees alone are more than that. And if I manage to do the impossible and get Coach Rodier to train me, I have no idea how I’m going to pay for it.
Back in Colorado, I did some workshops and seminars on the side to make extra money and I coached at a kids’ gym before that.
I could look for a job like that here. Though the whole point of coming to Moonshot was to focus solely on my training.