Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Does anyone have any other questions?”
You could take a bite out of the tension in the room.
No one except Grace had said a word over the last two hours.
We all just sat there, listening to the coaching staff go over last-minute details regarding the upcoming season.
Awkward and uncertain, every player sitting around the conference room simply watched and nodded.
Spending so much time listening to others talk instead of actually playing was painful enough.
The culprit behind the team’s weird behavior was the assistant coach standing in the corner of the room by the projection screen with his arms at his sides. No one had to confirm it, but we knew. We all definitely knew.
It was his fault.
When no one else responded to Gardner’s question, I shook my head and answered. “Nope.”
A frown indented the crease between the head coach’s eyebrows as he looked around the room, waiting for someone to say something else.
Fresh words never came, and I could tell by the way his cheeks tightened that he didn’t understand why, either. For one thing, no one exactly lacked confidence. Secondly, if anyone had an issue, they usually didn’t have a problem voicing it.
Except this time, the main problem had two arms and legs. Dun, dun, dun.
No one was about to give anything away.
“No one?” Gardner asked again, his tone disbelieving. Nothing.
“Okay. If no one has anything to say, I guess you’re all free to go. We’re meeting up here tomorrow at eight, and we’ll all ride to the field together,” he announced to a collective of nods before the team got up.
I stayed a few minutes longer, talking to Genevieve about running trails nearby, and had just grabbed my stuff when I heard, “Sal, you got time to come to my office?”
My instinct said I knew exactly what conversation was about to go down. I’d seen Gardner’s face, and my gut was well aware that he knew something was up.
Unfortunately, I also knew I’d be the first and more than likely the only one he’d come to with his questions.
Blah. It was the curse of being a well-known shitty liar. “Sure,” I told him, even though the last thing I wanted was to talk about it.
He grinned at me and beckoned me forward. “Come on, then.”
Damn it. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I followed. Within a couple minutes, we were turning down a hallway I was all too familiar with and heading into his office.
Gardner pulled the curtains up in the small window that separated his desk from the hall—it was procedure—and took a seat behind his desk, his smile friendly and his eyebrows halfway up to his hairline. “You know I’m not going to beat around the bush with you. Tell me what’s going on.”
And bingo was his name-o.
Where exactly did I start?
It wasn’t like I wanted to bring up anyone’s issues, much less my own conundrum—again—in front of a man that I trusted and respected but ultimately realized was using me as an informant.
Okay, more of a snitch. It was the same thing, damn it.
Sliding into the chair with my bag at my feet, I raised my eyebrows up at Gardner.
I immediately decided to play the dumb card as long as possible.
“With us?”
“You all. The team. What’s going on?”
“G, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sal.” He blinked like he knew I was playing dumb. I was, but he didn’t know that for sure. “Everyone is acting strange. No one’s chatty. I don’t see anyone playing around like usual. It looks like it’s the first time everyone is playing together. I want to understand what’s going on, that’s all.”
Once I really thought about it, I realized I shouldn’t be surprised he noticed the differences.
Of course he would. He noticed because he cared.
I complained because Gardner cared and then complained because Kulti didn’t.
There was no winning, was there? I needed to embrace the fact Gardner was still around and noticed.
While practices were usually pretty serious, there had always been a playful aspect to our warm-ups and cooldowns.
We all got along with each other fairly well for the most part, and I thought that’s why we worked so well together.
No one was a superstar or had a hot-air-balloon-sized ego. We played as a unit.
Of course that didn’t mean some players didn’t wish other players would twist an ankle from time to time, but that’s just the way it was.
And yeah, practices had been pretty subdued and had gotten more and more quiet with each passing day. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it wasn’t the fault of the new players to the team. They were great.
It was the German. If even Harlow was wary of opening her mouth to complain about him not being active, then there was obviously a problem.
I didn’t think Har had ever thought twice about the repercussions of speaking up.
She was that good and that honest. Yet I’d seen her stand back and shake her head while the frankfurter in question paced around the outskirts of practices, silent.
Plus, there was my crap with him.
I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees and lifted my shoulders in a lazy shrug.
“Tell me what to do,” the coach said, seriously. “I trust your word, and I need to know where to start.”
The t-word, goddammit. Trust was my kryptonite.
I suddenly felt my resolve give way and let my head hang down in surrender.
“Well.” I scratched my cheek and gave him a steady look. “What exactly can I say that won’t get me into trouble?”
“What?”
“What will get me in trouble? I don’t want to say something that will get me benched,” I told him carefully, like I hadn’t called the German a bratwurst days before.
The look he gave me was incredulous. Gardner looked as if I’d spit in his face. “Is this Kulti related?”
Given the fact that I hadn’t been given parameters yet as to what would get me in trouble, I settled for a nod. I could always say I didn’t vocalize anything with his name in it, right?
“You’re messing with me.” I shrugged.
“Explain. You know how much I respect you as a person. I’m not going to rat you out or get you in trouble for being honest with me, give me a break.” He really did look offended that I didn’t want to come out and say something to him.
And yet….
“Sal, I know you’re aware that I’m not blind or stupid.
Tell me the truth. I only caught half of what you told him a few days ago.
I know he wasn’t friendly to your dad, but I thought that was it.
I want to help, and I can tell this isn’t working the way it’s supposed to be.
Every time we’re out on the field, everyone’s acting tense; no one wants to say anything during our meetings.
That’s not like you all,” Gardner said. “Usually someone’s arguing about how inflated the soccer ball is, for Christ’s sake. ”
I wanted to slump back in my chair and let my head fall back so I could stare at the ceiling, but I wouldn’t.
Instead, I tugged my big girl socks on a little higher and dealt with what he was saying.
“I’m not disagreeing with you. Things are tense, and it sucks, G.
But you know we have that ‘no whining’ rule, so no one is going to complain. ”
“Then tell me what it is. Is it me?”
“Why do you always do this to me?” I groaned.
He laughed. “Because you’re not going to BS me.” Master manipulator, he was a master manipulator. “I want things to get back to the way they should be, so tell me what needs to be fixed.”
Didn’t he understand? You didn’t threaten a career that had been made up of so much sacrifice for nothing.
Each and every single one of us had given up birthdays, anniversaries, a social life, relationships, time with our families, and more for what we had.
It was precious to me, and I’d be a moron to give it away freely.
Every other girl on the team had to feel the same way to some extent.
“I know, G, but you know we’re all going to be careful.
What do you expect? We were warned from the beginning to watch what we say about Kulti, and then we show up to practice or go to the grocery store and get bombarded with him constantly. ”
The sigh that came out of him reminded me of a punctured balloon.
He still couldn’t believe it. There were people in life that cared about fixing what was broken and there were people who waited for someone else to resolve their problems. Usually, I liked to think I went for the things that I wanted, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be the one to say something, especially not in this case.
I suddenly felt a little bad that I’d been holding back from telling the truth, just a little bit.
Until I remembered the very real threat the German had given me after I’d helped him out, and then indignation and anger washed over everything.
“All right.” I took a deep breath. “I think everyone is just a little unsure of his presence here, G. I think. I can only speak for myself. No one says anything because we’re all probably too scared to put our feet in our mouths and get in trouble.
And it doesn’t help that he isn’t exactly Mr. Rogers. ”
A smile cracked across the coach’s face.
“I’m serious. I think at some point everyone has had that nightmare coach that calls you a worthless piece of shit who should have quit playing soccer years ago.
But somehow, it’s worse to be with someone at this stage that doesn’t seem to care.
He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t do anything.
He’s just there.” There was the incident at the photo shoot.
And he’d threatened me when all I’d done was try to help him, but I kept that crap to myself.
Not because of what he’d said, but just because I wasn’t that type of person.
It was a fact. Kulti didn’t do anything. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t share his knowledge or his anger, except that one time, or even his vocabulary.