Chapter 14 Chelsea
Chelsea
AFTER BELLAMY LEAVES the auditorium to head to the cafeteria for dinner, I stand frozen in place for a moment, trying not to scream, sob, or throw up.
Maybe all three at once. And when I’ve finally got a hold of my emotions enough to speak coherently, I shove my face into the hallway and bark out, “Get your ass in here, Ninety-Five!”
Luca’s dark eyes saucer at my unexpectedly furious tone, but I don’t pause for a reply or even to hold the door open for him.
Instead, feeling like my head’s on the brink of physically exploding from fury, I let the heavy door slam behind me, march several angry paces into the now-empty auditorium, cross my arms tightly over my heaving chest, and tap my toe furiously while awaiting the entry of my prey.
As Luca steps into the room, he looks wary. “W-what happened with Bellamy?”
“Do you have something to tell me?”
He furrows his brow. “I … don’t think so.”
I get the feeling Luca’s answered this same question that exact same way more than once in his lifetime. In fact, he currently looks very much like a teenager who’s rapidly cataloging his many recent rule infractions while trying to figure out which one has done him in.
“A few hours ago, you told every single linebacker I’m nothing but a ‘glorified babysitter’ who’s ‘chasing a pie-in-the-sky pipe dream’?” I shriek. “You said I’m ‘in over my head,’ and a ‘nepo baby’ who doesn’t actually ‘know shit’ about coaching!”
Luca’s face falls. He opens his mouth to defend himself but winds up puffing out his cheeks instead.
My tear ducts suddenly feel activated, like they’re burning to release their watery load, but I force my emotions down and grit out, “I thought I’d earned at least some basic respect from you during our one-one-one this morning. But I guess not.”
“No, you did, Chelsea.”
“I know you’re not ready to go all-in with me as your personal coach. I know you still have your doubts. But I stupidly, na?vely thought you’d at least come to view me as more than a glorified babysitter!”
“Chelsea, please listen to me.”
“To my face this morning, you said, and I quote, ‘That was a damned good session.’ But then, mere hours later, you talked the worst kind of shit about me to every fucking player whose respect means the most to me!”
“Chelsea, please, let me explain.”
“I get why you thought of me as your babysitter yesterday, since that’s what my father called me. But finding out you badmouthed me today to every player I’m going to be working closely with during camp feels like the worst kind of betrayal and disrespect.”
“Bellamy told you all this? Because whoever he heard it from misrepresented what I said. Why would I call you a nepo baby when people always accuse me of being one, too?”
He’s got a point there. But it’s an inconsequential one, all things considered. I put my hands on my hips. “Do you deny the rest? Like the part about you calling me a glorified babysitter and delusional?”
“Well, no, but let me explain my motivation for saying that stuff.”
“What could possibly excuse that kind of trash talk, when you’re the only player here I’ve coached?
Luca, you’re the only player in a position to know if I’ve got what it takes to coach, which means you’re literally the only player whose opinion of me matters.
” Moisture springs into my eyes, unbidden, at that last bit.
“And yet,” I choke out, trying to maintain my composure, “you used all that unique credibility and juice to make me a laughingstock with the other LBs.” My last words break me.
As tears well up in my traitorous eyes, I wipe them furiously while Luca physically grips his hair in distress.
“I’m so sorry. I blew it, Chelsea. I was trying keep the other guys from sniffing out what a great coach you are and then demanding private sessions with you, too.
That’s the God’s truth. I was just trying to keep my new secret weapon all to myself, but I should have realized by doing that, I was screwing you and your reputation over in the worst possible way.
I was an idiot, Chelsea. A total and complete asshole. I’m so, so sorry.”
I shift my weight, taken off guard. I didn’t expect such a heartfelt and thorough apology from Luca.
And I certainly didn’t expect him to call me his secret weapon.
My dad and brothers often call me that, but they’re family, so their praise of my talents doesn’t count nearly as much as an objective outsider’s.
“I mean, don’t get too big a head over me wanting to keep you all to myself,” Luca quickly adds. “I was impressed this morning, but it was still only one drill session. It’s still early days yet, and like we agreed this morning, I still have that three-day trial period to figure out if—”
“Oh, hell no. The trial period is now officially null and void, motherfucker, thanks to you making it impossible for me to work with anyone else. You’re in this with me now, Montague, totally and completely, whether you like it or not.”
Luca twists his gorgeous lips, but he doesn’t push back.
I place both fists on my hips and stare him down. “Now would be the time for you to dutifully say, ‘Yes, Coach.’ Otherwise, I won’t believe a single word of your apology.”
Luca shifts his weight and his Adam’s apple bobs. But finally, with visible discomfort on his face, he gives me what I’ve demanded in a barely audible whisper: “Yes, Coach.”
I put a hand to my ear. “Sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”
He’s only slightly louder the second time, but it’s enough for me to let him off the hook.
Waggling my finger at him, I say, “I’ll forgive you this one time.
But if you ever disrespect me again, whether it’s to my face or behind my back, I swear I’ll go straight to my father and tearfully beg him to cut your ass as a favor to me—and I’ll say it’s for reasons I don’t feel comfortable disclosing to him. ”
“Jesus, Chelsea.”
I’d never actually do that to him, but Luca doesn’t know that.
“So don’t test me,” I add.
“I won’t,” he chokes out. “I promise. Now tell me everything Bellamy told you, including who said all that shit about me to him. I need to know who in that room was willing to stab me in the back to get ahead.”
“Nobody stabbed you in the back. Bellamy happened to be in the security room when you had that conversation. He said your room looked particularly animated, so he turned up the sound on your screen and overheard the whole conversation.”
“Motherfucker.”
“You have to be careful, Luca. There are cameras everywhere around here. At least, in the newly renovated areas. Unless you’re in the older part of the complex, always assume you’re being watched.
” It’s probably not true, actually. From what my father’s told me, the footage captured by security cameras isn’t normally viewed by anyone.
What happened to Luca this time was a fluke.
But you never know what’s possible, as the situation with Bellamy proved, so he shouldn’t take any chances.
“I’ll keep that in mind, ‘Coach.’” He smiles at me when he calls me Coach, and when I don’t return the gesture, he exhales and says, “If you want, I’ll tell everyone you’re a total badass during tomorrow’s film review, okay?
Or I’ll do it at dinner tonight, instead.
In front of the whole team, if that’s what you want. ”
“Don’t you dare. I don’t want you saying another word about me to anyone, ever. Now that you’ve mocked me, nobody can redeem me but me. I have to earn their respect through my actions. I’ll need to show them. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do at every practice and scrimmage throughout camp.”
Luca grimaces. “I’m really sorry, Chelsea.”
“You can make it up to me by kicking ass. By taking everything I tell you to do seriously.”
“Why don’t we study my playbook at dinner together? You can quiz me while I’m eating.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to dinner. Now that you’ve shit-talked me, I’ve got to get back to the hotel so I can watch more film on you.”
Luca’s face turns mischievous. “I heard a rumor you’re staying at the same hotel as me. You’re one of the player liaisons, right?”
“You heard a rumor? Luca, the fact that I’m a player liaison who’s staying at the player hotel is literally part of the ‘get to know your staff’ page on the app.”
“Oh. I didn’t download it.”
“It’s loaded onto the iPad that was issued to you!”
“Really? I didn’t see it.”
“Christ almighty.” With a palm to my forehead, I start marching toward the front door of the auditorium.
As I go, I toss out over my shoulder, “Be on the practice field at five twenty-five sharp tomorrow morning, five minutes early for our next one-on-one. If you’re not early, then you’re late, Montague. Don’t you dare be late.”