Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
To be fair, I had been warned.
Jenny had sent me a text message letting me know that practice on Friday had been bombarded by reporters wanting the scoop on Reiner Kulti’s supposed DUI.
I had just begun wondering why people would care when I reminded myself that I didn’t—I shouldn’t.
Especially not after someone had been a massive asshole to me.
For four days I stayed at home, and for three of those days I let myself fume over how he’d spoken to me.
I made more money in a day than you do in a year for doing the exact same thing. Of course it pissed me off. The salary scale was a hard fact, as much as it sucked, but he didn’t need to be a pretentious dick about it.
Then to top it off, although I hadn’t exactly expected an apology, I had definitely not gotten one.
Not a text, not a phone call, nothing. So maybe I wouldn’t have been so bothered by the overabundance of media sectioned off from the soccer field if Kulti wouldn’t have been rude when I was only trying to be a good friend.
“Sal! What do you have to say about your coach’s public record?” one yelled.
“How do you feel about—”
I waved them off and kept walking toward the field.
“Sorry! I have to get to practice!” It was the truth; I wasn’t lying.
I did have to get to practice. After four days off with my ribs still the slightest bit sore and my stomach still brushed over with scabs, I had to get back into the swing of things.
My bout with an imaginary virus needed to be over.
“You’re back!” Genevieve, one of my teammates, greeted me as I walked past her. “Are you feeling any better?”
As long as no one punched me in the rib, I would be. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what I could say to her. “Way better. Good job on Friday, by the way.”
She smiled at me and went back to putting on her cleats.
Most of the other girls greeted me as I walked by them, saying that they were happy to see me back or that they’d missed me.
It was an exaggeration more than likely, but I’d give them the benefit of the doubt.
I sure as hell had missed them—at least the field—and Jenny and Harlow for sure.
Getting stuck indoors for four days had been torture.
Arms came up from behind me to wrap around my neck. “I’m so happy you’re back,” Jenny said into my ear, giving me a squeeze that had me freezing in place.
“I missed you too,” I gripped her forearms before reaching back to smack her in the hip.
She only hugged me harder before pulling away. Standing back, Jenny tipped her head over in the direction of the media, waggling her eyebrows at the same time. “Nuts, huh?”
The fact I had been the one to tell Kulti about the coverage was nuts.
The other fact, that Marc was the only one who had any idea that I spent time with the German, was nuts.
I wasn’t the type to have secrets—and this one made me feel bad.
I was lying to my friends and family, and it wasn’t like I could stop this deep into it.
All I could do was nod, turning around to face her. “Yeah. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“Me neither.” Jenny shrugged but quickly reached up to tap my elbow. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s been in a horrible mood since then.” She paused like she was really thinking about what came out of her mouth. “In a worse mood. I overheard him tell Grace she should look into retiring.”
My eyes bugged out. Jenny just nodded.
Jeez. I thought about it for possibly five more seconds and then shook off my Kulti-related thoughts. I had better things to do.
“Come help me stretch. Everything is tight,” I told her.
She reached up and squeezed my shoulder. It took everything inside of me not to buckle my knees in order to get further away from her. As casually as possible, I stepped out of her reach. Seriously, I wondered if her boyfriend let her get anywhere near his privates.
I was in the middle of wondering if she’d ever given a hand job when I spotted Gardner and Kulti walking toward the field together. Whether they were talking or not, I couldn’t tell, but my teeth responded to the sight of the German.
If he’d apologized the next day or the one after that, I would have forgiven him with only giving him a minimal amount of shit.
It wasn’t like he was the first person to make an asshole-ish comment to me in my life, and there was no way he’d be the last. My own mom had said some pretty rude things to me at one point or another, but I always forgave her.
I wasn’t even going to get started with the stuff Ceci, my little sister, had said to me over the years, which only reminded me of my upcoming trip back to San Antonio for my dad’s birthday. I still needed to get him something.
“I’ll grab you a mini band,” Jenny said, tearing me out of my thoughts, thankfully.
I needed to focus.
SQUEEZING MY EYES SHUT, I fell back against the turf to try and catch my breath after running sprints.
My back hurt, my lungs felt like they were wrapped in an iron band that was shrinking by the minute, and as much as I wanted to pull up my shirt to fan off, I couldn’t without showing everyone my belly.
Good grief.
A shadow came over my chest, followed shortly by, “You have more in you, schnecke. Get up.”
I kept my eyes closed. The temptation to ignore him was overwhelming, but I couldn’t do that. Pretending like he wasn’t there would just give him more power. On top of that, schnecke? What the hell did that mean? It didn’t matter. Whatever. “I’ll be up in a second,” I told him on a long exhale.
My own personal eclipse didn’t move despite the fact I had at least responded to him.
I didn’t bother opening my eyes either as I finished catching my breath.
The shadow shifted to the right as something hit the side of my foot. “Are you well enough to play today?” Kulti’s voice was low as he spoke.
His nudge got me to open my eyes and stare straight up at the blue-gray sky. “No.”
Kulti was standing by my feet, his hands behind his back as he looked down at me.
I glanced at him for a second, then rolled to sit up gently and get to my feet. Sparing him another look, I gave the German a tight smile I wasn’t feeling at all. “I need to get back.”
That’s exactly what I did.
AT EIGHT O’CLOCK THAT NIGHT, my cell phone dinged with a text.
From my spot on the couch with my socked feet up on the coffee table, I glanced at the screen and saw “German Chocolate Cake” pop up.
I went right back to watching my show. If it was life or death, he’d call, and he didn’t.
AT FIVE O’CLOCK THE following afternoon, my phone beeped with an incoming text message again.
“German Chocolate Cake” appeared on the screen.
For a second, I thought about picking it up and possibly reading the message, but I’d ignored the one the day before; during practice today, he’d given me a massive amount of hell during my one-on-one game. Basically, he was acting like nothing was wrong and like he hadn’t been an ass days before.
Now he was texting me again.
“Did they get your phone number?” Marc asked from behind the wheel.
I set my phone back between my legs and shook my head.
Marc already knew about the insanity at practice with the reporters and the mystery behind Kulti’s driving record.
He’d been warning me that it was only a matter of time before someone got desperate enough to call, especially since Jenny and I were the only players who had pictures with him floating around the internet.
“No.” I smiled at my friend, and before I realized what the hell was coming out of my mouth, I made something up. “Wrong number.”
“Are you done?”
I pulled my bag up and over my opposite shoulder and straightened, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. “I have to get to work.”
The German had his own bag over his shoulder. His handsome, handsome face was tight as he ran a hand over his head.
I raised my eyebrows, forced a smile on my face, and turned to start walking.
Kulti’s hand whipped out to grab my wrist, stopping me in place. “Sal,” he hissed, turning me to face him.
I took a breath through my nose and tipped my head back to look him in the eye. “Kulti, I need to get to work. “
His head jerked back, the corner of his cheek rounding like he was sticking his tongue there. “Kulti, really?”
“That’s your name, isn’t it?” I slid my arm up and out of his grip, keeping my gaze locked on those green-brown eyes that seemed lighter today than usual.
“Look, I really need to get to work. I need my job to help me pay bills.” So maybe my smile turned a little condescending, a little smug and just the tiniest bit bitchy.
“You shouldn’t give me the power to make you angry.” He lowered his face to mine, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“What I shouldn’t do is waste my time on someone with an attitude problem.”
Kulti’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his gaze intense on me as he took his time replying. The words were even and steady out of his mouth. “I used to make more money in a day than most people do; you aren’t the only one—”
This wasn’t helping at all. My eye twitched. “Yeah, you made more money in a day than most people in third-world countries make in a lifetime. Trust me, I understand, and I couldn’t care less about how much money you make or don’t make. Don’t be an idiot.”
He wasn’t used to being called an idiot if the look on his face said anything, but by that point I was over this shit. “I’ve worked as hard as you did to get to where I’m at. Just because I don’t make as much money as you doesn’t make me any less worthy.”
Kulti shook his head. “I never said it did.”
“Well, you sure made it seem like it did. Just like you made me feel this small for having another job,” I told him, holding my thumb and index finger about an inch apart.
“Sal,” he grumbled.