Chapter 22 #5
“Oh no. My dad has asthma, and my mom”—the gigantic bicep surrounding my neck like a boa constrictor bulged—“isn’t exactly a fan.”
For one stinking moment, I had the fear that Kulti would say something about who my mom’s dad was. One brief, painful moment I imagined him spilling the beans because it was something impressive to say in front of people who would think it was interesting. I really thought he might.
He didn’t.
He steered the conversation away. “We’ll split up into two groups,” he ordered, and I let him, because it had become evident to me that he was starting to enjoy these days playing with the kids. It almost made me feel a little bad that there was only one camp left after today.
The day went fine. Mike Kimmons was a little too serious for the kids, but some of them recognized him and it made up for him not playing around with them much. Kulti offered to be paired up with him for some reason, and I tackled the other group with Franz.
Once the three hours had passed and most of the kids had left, Franz pulled me aside while Kulti continued taking pictures with a few straggling participants and their parents.
The older German gave me a serious look. “I overheard something while I was in Los Angeles, and I need to tell you.”
Fuck. Preparing someone for news was never a good thing.
My big girl socks went on. “Okay.”
He cast a glance in Kulti’s direction before hurrying through what he felt the need to tell me. “There’s a rumor you will be traded to New York at the end of this season.”
My ears started ringing. My stomach churned.
New York? With Amber? If that wasn’t bad enough, the team already had a solid popular starting lineup. I would never get to play.
Most importantly, I didn’t want to go to fucking New York.
Franz touched my shoulder. “I recruit for NL.” He was referring to the Newcastle Lions, one of the top men’s teams in the United Kingdom.
“Think about what I told you the last time. If you decide you’d like to try something different”—he shot me a look—“something better, I can help. I don’t understand how you’ve gotten buried in the system here, but between Reiner and I, there isn’t much we can’t do with our connections. ”
Fully aware that this wasn’t the time to lose it, I pulled my big girl socks on higher than ever and forced myself to nod at the man who had told me news he didn’t have to share. Could he have been lying? I didn’t see why he would, so I wasn’t going to be narcissistic about it.
Why? bounced around in my head over and over again.
Everyone knew I loved playing in Houston.
The WPL wasn’t big enough for people to be forced to play where they absolutely didn’t want to.
Most of the time, players were willing to go wherever they were sent.
When I’d first gotten drafted, I’d been allowed to choose the top three teams I wanted to play for.
Obviously, Houston had been at the top of my list with stars by it, followed by California, since it was close to my brother, and then the Phoenix Novas, who had since moved to St. Louis.
I was the top scorer for the Pipers. I worked hard and didn’t give them much hell, besides what had been going on these last few months, and I helped out my teammates as much as possible. Somehow this was how they were repaying me?
Gardner’s warning, Cordero’s dislike, and the things my teammates had been doing recently swirled in my head.
I felt betrayed. Cheated on. And I couldn’t decide whether to be sad or take a key to Cordero’s car.
Okay. That was a little extreme. Sort of. Patience. Patience.
There was only one person who could have been behind this possible move. That spiteful, little asshole.
“Thank you for telling me,” I somehow managed to tell Franz, even though my insides were ready for anarchy.
“Don’t waste your potential, ja?”
I nodded at him, feeling this huge surge of emotion climb up my chest, and it wasn’t good. It made the smile on my face feel short of the braveness I wanted to portray. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Call me, email me, whatever you need,” he said sincerely.
“Thank you, Franz. I really appreciate it.” I did, even if the news made me want to cry.
Going to play with freaking Amber and her minions?
Apparently my thoughts were written all over my face. He gave me a sad smile that made me feel even worse.
A soft touch at the small of my back had me straightening my shoulders. “Franz is spending the night. Have dinner with us,” Kulti said, stopping at my side.
Bile pinched my throat, and I had to keep my gaze away from his. “I need to go home. Thank you, though.”
He ignored me. “I’ll ride with you. Franz, take my car.”
“Rey, I want to go home,” I told him firmly.
“I want you to come over,” he replied, already turning around. “Where are your things?” Kulti didn’t even wait for me to say anything else before he started walking in the direction of my bag. Damn it.
“Rey,” I called out, following after him.
He glanced over his shoulder but didn’t stop walking. “You don’t have anything else to do. Stop being difficult.”
“Umm, I do have things to do. I have to go for my run later, or I might do some yoga.” Or cry or scream… the usual.
The German waved me off.
I was going to kill him. “Reyyyyy!” Nothing.
Son of a bitch.
“He’s difficult, isn’t he?”
“That’s the understatement of a lifetime,” I told Franz. “What a pain in the ass. I really don’t know how someone hasn’t killed him in cold blood yet.”
The other man barked out a laugh.
From across the field, I spotted Kulti in the process of throwing my bag over his shoulder. “There’s no point in even trying to argue with him, is there?” I asked Franz.
“Nein.”
“He’s such a pain in the ass.”
Franz snickered. “He is.”
I sighed. I could leave after a little while. Hopefully.
I met Kulti at my car where he had apparently already gone through my bag to get my keys.
He tossed them over the roof, and we got in, waving at Franz as he slipped into the Audi parked next to mine.
As soon as we were inside, I shot him a look.
“You could have let Franz ride with me instead of making him ride alone.”
He gave me that annoyingly even look. “He will survive by himself.”
I glared at him for a beat before shaking my head. “You’re being rude.”
“I don’t care.”
Not a surprise. I turned on the ignition and pulled out of the lot before I finally thought about it. “Why didn’t you invite Mike?”
“I don’t like him.”
Seriously, I would never understand men. “Then why did you invite him today?”
“He owed me a favor” was his simple response. Then he added, “And his plane ticket was reasonable.”
Wait a second. “You…” I couldn’t get the words out. I had to swallow and process what he’d said. “You paid for their tickets here?”
Kulti didn’t even bother looking at me; his attention was directed out the window. “Yes.”
I dropped my head against the steering wheel and took a deep breath. This was all too much for one afternoon. Way too much. Everything seemed to pile on top of me. “How do you expect me to ever pay you back?”
“I don’t,” he answered, turning to face me. “The light is green.”
Sitting up, I kept my gaze forward. I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I wasn’t sure what the hell I would do. “I didn’t even think about how they made it here. I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry for not thanking you more.”
Nothing.
I clutched the steering wheel and kept my mouth closed the entire drive back.
I was getting traded.
Half of my teammates thought I was a tramp.
The idiot next to me had been paying for people’s plane tickets to come to my youth camps, my free camps.
I was at least a little bit in l-o-v-e with the same idiot, but realistically it was more like a lot. My childhood feelings had come back in full force, more real than ever. Plus I knew myself, and I didn’t tend to half-ass anything.
And said idiot was leaving at the end of the season.
What the hell was I doing with my life? Everything I’d worked up to, worked for, suddenly seemed to be repelled by me.
What was I going to do?
My nose tickled in response.
We arrived at his house and parked, but still I couldn’t get myself to say anything. I wanted to cry. I really wanted to cry, and I sure as hell didn’t want to do it anywhere near here.
I kept my gaze down and followed the German up to his door where Franz was already waiting. We’d barely gone inside when I felt a choking cough in my throat. I knew I needed to get away from them. “Where’s your bathroom?” I asked him in a voice that sounded weird even to me.
“Up the stairs, first door,” he answered, his voice distant enough to let me know he wasn’t standing that close.
“I’ll be right back,” I lied, already hauling my butt up the stairs, desperate to get away.
Two swipes at my leaky nose later with the back of my hand, and I was inside. I didn’t even bother turning on the light before I was plopping onto the porcelain rim of a tub I could appreciate when my life wasn’t falling apart.
I was getting traded because I was friends with someone. My throat convulsed, and I hiccupped. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Don’t do it, Sal. Don’t you fucking do it.
I managed to hold out thirty seconds before the next hiccup wrecked my upper body.
It was followed by another and then another.
By the fifth one, I hunched over and pressed my palms to my eye sockets.
I didn’t cry hardly ever. When I was upset, I did other things to get my mind off of whatever was bothering me.
There were very few things in life worth crying over, my mom had told me once.
Sitting on that tub, I really tried to tell myself that getting traded wasn’t the end of the world. I tried to convince myself I shouldn’t take it personally. It was just business, and it happened, sometimes, to other people.
That only made me cry harder.
I was an idiot. A stupid fucking idiot.