FIFTEEN
SERENA
RYAN: Pop over to mine after practice tonight. We need to talk about your job!
SERENA: I won’t be done until late. Can we meet in your office in the afternoon if it’s official business?
RYAN: It is official, but there’s things I can’t say when someone could be listening. Coffee at Hank’s before practice? 4 p.m.
SERENA: If this is an attempt to see me again, don’t bother.
RYAN: I swear it’s not. You’ll want to hear this!
SERENA: Did you know mountain lions can’t roar? They’re basically fuzzy murder kittens.
CHASE: If this is you trying to flirt with your fake boyfriend, I’m starting to see why you’re still single.
SERENA: I wasn’t flirting.
CHASE: Sure, princess.
SERENA: We’re still doing “princess,” huh? What does that make you?
CHASE: Your knight in shining armor.
SERENA: More like the stable boy.
It’s late afternoon on Thursday and the cheer coach office is the usual bustle and noise. Tanya is at a meeting with management. Daisy and Liv are working on the next routine. I’m half listening, half chipping in as I update the official social media accounts. The cheer team aren’t due to practice until six, but there’s been a steady stream of girls coming in and out today, ordering a new piece of uniform or pleading with us to give them a shot on the front line.
Daisy taps a green board pen against her plump lips. “What do you think about adding a ripple kick sequence after the hip-hop combo?” she asks, flicking back a tumble of blonde ringlet-curls. Daisy and I joined the squad the same year, but while I chased the adrenaline of performing, she realized after one season that she preferred the pace of coaching. For years she volunteered on the sidelines, living off her trust fund, before finally stepping into a paid role.
Liv studies the board. “But who do we move to the front line? Riley would be the obvious choice but she’s only just back from injury.”
“What about Briana?” I suggest.
Liv considers it. “She’s hungry for the shot. What do you think, Serena?”
“I’ll talk to her tonight,” I reply. I glance at the clock and my stomach drops. “Shit! I’m supposed to be meeting Ryan for coffee. He said it’s about my job. Have either of you heard anything else about management wanting the coaches to go part-time?”
Liv shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“That might be a good thing,” Daisy says, though her tone doesn’t sound convinced.
I wish I could believe it. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I call, “See you at practice later.”
“Good luck,” Liv calls back. “And don’t forget Nacho Night.”
The reminder tugs a smile out of me. Nacho Night has been our ritual for years. Me and Liv loading the table with tortilla chips, salsa, guac, and cheese piled so high the oven tray barely fits, and then curling up on the couch with bowls in our laps while we watch the latest Netflix rom-com. Between her wedding planning and my fake dates with Chase, it feels like forever since we had an evening that was just the two of us in the apartment, like old times. I try not to think about how our old times are numbered. That in a few months, Liv will be moving out. I still haven’t done a single thing about finding someone else to move in, or about finding another place to live. There’s still time, I tell myself firmly. Once things with Chase go back to normal, I’ll throw myself into it.
I hurry out of the stadium and head to Hank’s. Ryan and I might not be dating anymore, but I still remember how much he hates to be kept waiting. I don’t want this coffee to be any more awkward than it’s already going to be.
Hank’s is quiet as I push through the doors. The lull between lunch and dinner, I guess. I find Ryan already sitting in a booth at the back. And despite the fact he looks handsome in a white shirt, clean shaven and brown hair styled perfectly, the sight of him makes my skin crawl. I’ve managed to avoid him in the weeks since the Hearts of Denver awards, but time has done nothing to soften the unease of that night.
There are already two drinks on the table as I slide into the booth opposite him. He pushes one toward me. “You weren’t here so I ordered for you,” he says.
“Thanks,” I reply, taking a sip before fighting back the disgust. It’s too creamy and heavy on the pumpkin spice. Not a drink I like or one I’d ever have chosen for myself. Was it a passive-aggressive move? Punishment for being five minutes late. Or did he just forget and assume all women drink pumpkin spice in fall?
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral and wanting to get straight to the point.
He fixes his eyes on me. “There have been rumors circling about budgets and staffing. I wanted you to hear this from me. The Stormhawks are cutting the cheer budget by thirty percent.”
I think of Flic’s suspicions about the sale and I’m about to ask how bad things are when Ryan continues. “I’ve been asked to develop a plan to reduce the budget with as minimal impact to the squad as possible. I thought I’d run it by you before presenting to the board.”
Ryan is asking for my input? That’s a first.
“How much financial trouble are the Stormhawks in?” I ask, thinking of Chase and Jake and what a sale could mean for all of us.
“I’m not on the inside of the big meetings, but my guess is, it’s bad. We lost a couple of sponsors in the offseason. And after buying your boyfriend last season, they’ve struggled.”
“Chase is great for the Stormhawks,” I reply, ignoring the disdain in Ryan’s voice.
Ryan shrugs. “It doesn’t matter how good he is for the team. Denver might love the Stormhawks, but the rest of the country thinks the team are behind the times. According to the sponsors we lost, we’re stuffy and out of touch.”
“Are the Huberts looking to sell?”
He hesitates. “It’s possible. There have been secret meetings with the board. My guess is we’ll find out soon. But before then, I need to cut the cheer budget. Four coaches is a lot.”
“We have a big squad.”
“If we cut the girls’ pay?—”
“No way,” I cut in. “No way, Ryan. They barely make anything as it is.”
“I know. I can trim a few things here and there and keep the cheer squad pay as it is… but either we lose one of the coaches or two of you go part-time and job share.”
I grit my teeth, fighting the sting of frustration in the backs of my eyes. We already work more hours than we’re paid for.
“They’ll want my recommendation on who should go.”
“Daisy and Liv have been coaching longer than I have,” I reply quietly. “It’s only fair it’s me.”
We fall silent.
“Well, thanks for the heads-up,” I say, starting to move. I need to wrap my head around what this means for me. And I need to do that somewhere away from Ryan.
“Serena, wait.” Ryan grabs my hand. I pull it away but remain seated, raising my brows in question. “If…” he starts. One side of his mouth moves into a hopeful smile.
“If what?” I ask, already tensing. Don’t say it!
“It’s just if I thought we had a shot at getting back together, it might make me more inclined to want to see you around the stadium more. It might make me consider if Daisy and Liv might be the best coaches to move to part-time.”
He said it!
Anger coils tight in my chest. This is the real reason he wanted to meet with me today. It wasn’t out of concern for my job or to get my advice. He wants to manipulate me.
Fuck!
He knows how much this job and this career mean to me. He’s holding my dreams hostage for the chance I might date him again.
My voice when I speak is low and laced with a venom that makes him draw back. “You’re a pig, Ryan. There is no us. There never will be again.”
I stand fast.
“Your job?” he says, and there’s the darkness in his eyes again, the one I saw at the awards dinner when I told him to back off.
“Do what you have to do.”
I walk out of Hank’s, shaking with fury and something dangerously close to fear. How dare he make me feel scared! How dare he try to hold power over me by threatening to take my career away. My thoughts spin. There’s no way I can ignore this. It was bad enough when he was turning up unannounced at my favorite places. Or waiting for me by my truck after games. Or cornering me at the awards. But this is a whole new level of creepy. I need to do something about it. I’m just not sure what that something is.
I’m lost in thought as I make my way through the corridors of the stadium toward the cheer coaches’ office. The cheer squad practice takes place in a professional-grade training space inside a converted warehouse, two blocks away from the stadium, with a practice hall, padded floors, and height clearance for tosses, but I need to grab my gym bag and the snacks I always give out.
Anger has me moving fast. I round the corner and walk straight into a brick wall. At least that’s what it feels like as I bounce back and steady hands grab my arms. My senses fill with the scent of sandalwood and vanilla, and I know without looking who it is.
“Whoa,” Chase says. “I was just about to call you.”
I take in the sight of him as he pulls out his phone. Gray joggers sitting low on his hips, a dark tee clinging to broad shoulders. His skin gleams from a post-practice shower.
“Check it out,” he says, showing me his Instagram feed. “No memes, no DMs asking me out. I mean, there’s a lot here about us, but only how cute we are.” He laughs, then seeing something in my expression, he asks, “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine. Sorry. I was?—”
“Thinking about the mating patterns of mountain lions,” he teases.
I smile despite the heavy feeling in my chest. “Something like that.”
“Hey.” He tugs me to one side of the corridor as the rest of the team leave the locker room. “That was a grade A joke, and you barely cracked a smile. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie, not wanting to tell him about Ryan’s threat while we’re standing in the corridor. Of course, Chase sees straight through me, before taking my hand and pulling me into a nearby office. The lights are off, the room lit only by the light from the corridor through the glass door.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” I protest as Chase shuts the door behind us. The space is clean and functional. A desk. Chairs. A filing cabinet. A poster with every team and every game in the NFL schedule is pinned to the wall.
“I’m the star quarterback. You think anyone will tell me to leave? Now talk to me. What’s going on?”
My shoulders drop but I tell him everything. Ryan’s escalating behavior and the conversation we just had. Chase’s jaw tightens with every word. By the time I’m done, fury blazes in his eyes.
“He tried to blackmail you?” His voice is low, almost a growl.
“Sort of.”
“There’s no ‘sort of’ about it, Serena. You’re reporting him to Human Resources.”
I bite my lower lip.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to let him get away with ruining your career.” Chase paces the space in front of me like a caged wild animal. If I wasn’t so worried and scared right now, I’d laugh. Who is this man? Because it sure isn’t the playful, take-nothing-seriously best friend I’ve known for nearly twenty years.
“Of course not. I’m going to do something. I just want to think it through first. Not rush into anything that could backfire on me. Ryan is well liked, and he made sure the conversation we just had wasn’t overheard. It’ll be his word against mine.”
Chase rubs his shoulder. “I’ll report him. You think they’d dare ignore me?”
“Chase, no.” I take a breath, keeping my voice firm. “You’re not my protector. I don’t need you to fight my battles.”
He stops pacing and turns to face me. We stare at each other in silence, and I swear something ripples between us. For a moment I think Chase is going to step close, take me in his arms, but he does the opposite and moves back, leaning against the door instead. “Sorry,” he says. “I just… I hate that he’s treating you this way. You can’t let him get away with it.”
“I won’t,” I say, meaning it. “I’d better go. I’m going to be late for practice.”
Chase opens the door for me. The lights of the corridor suddenly bright.
“You want a ride to the fair tomorrow night? I can pick you up on the way. Our last fake date.”
“Thanks, but I’m going with Elle and the girls first. They’re too little to stay for long. I’ll meet you by the main gate at seven.”
Chase squeezes my hand. His touch is warm and filled with reassurance. And for an awful moment I think I might cry. I flash him a smile and stride away. One thing is clear. Everything’s changing. My job. My future. My friendship with Chase. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.