Chapter Seven #3
Isla beams. “Thanks. I’ll see you both in a bit. I need to go have strong words with the catering team about why they put out bread egregiously early. As if the stuff doesn’t go cold in a matter of minutes.” She says that last part more to herself than us.
Regardless, she has a point. “Isla, in case no one tells you today, you are nailing this job. I really respect how quickly you hit the ground running. It’s tough starting somewhere new, but we’re lucky to have you.”
The glint of frenzied efficiency softens in her eyes. In its place comes a spark of relief. “Wow. Thanks, Coach. Sorry—what can I call you?”
“Sadie is great.”
“Thanks, Sadie. I moved here from New Orleans, and I was kind of on the fence about coming at all, truth be told. It was such a big upheaval. So it’s nice to hear I’m making a good impression.”
I gesture to Vivi. “We’re transplants, too, so we get it. But you are exactly where you need to be, and we’re going to have a great season. Now go raise some hell in the kitchen. Cold bread is a bummer.”
“Such a bummer. You get it.” She hustles to the kitchen, pausing to look over her shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure! Anything.”
“What’s a Fury?”
I open and close my mouth, my brows knitting together.
“Like what’s the mascot, I mean,” she adds quickly. “I didn’t ask in my interview, and the internet had no answers for me after the fact. Now it feels too late to ask.”
“I…” That’s all I manage before looking to Vivi for an answer.
She gives me a shrug. “I figured you knew. You don’t?”
“It hasn’t been a priority!” I say, lowering my voice. “I guess I was waiting for the first game to see if a mascot appeared.”
I sure won’t be asking any of the men we work with. No need to give them something to use against me.
“Well, I was waiting for you to mention it in casual conversation,” Vivi counters.
“You would’ve been waiting a while.”
I turn back to Isla. “We don’t know, and we agree it’s too late to ask.”
Isla exhales loudly in relief. “Thank God I’m not alone. I feel so much better now.”
As soon as she disappears, Vivi’s gaze flicks between the kitchen door and my face. “How do you always know what people need to hear? You got to the heart of her in like, two minutes flat.”
“I don’t know.” I set my pen back on the table.
“Jax mentioned in passing that the ‘intense’ person he recently hired was doing ‘the most,’ and Isla is the only woman he’s personally hired since me.
People tend to do ‘the most’ when they’re trying to prove themselves.
And they only feel the need to prove themselves when they’re insecure or need validation.
” I shrug. “And since Jax Biggs is impossible to read and maybe even scared of her, I’m sure he’s not giving her any validation. Figured we could give her some.”
She nods slowly, as if taking it in. “Huh. Fascinating.”
“That, or she’s just really good at her job and has a lot of energy.” I point to her empty glass. “Do you want another drink?”
“Big time.” As she guides us back toward the lounge, she pauses and scrunches her face. “Wait. Do you analyze me like that?”
I fight a smile. “Why, would you like me to?”
“Absolutely not. I do not wish to be perceived, especially not by someone as freakishly observant as you.”
“Could we not have chosen the word smart?”
“This from the woman who doesn’t know her own team’s mascot?”
I point a finger. “You better take that to the grave or I’m ratting you out even harder.”
She makes a cross over her heart. “I’ll keep our secret until the true meaning of Fury presents itself.”
We pass back into the lounge in pursuit of the bar, nearly crashing into Jax as he gets his ear talked off by a group of four thirsty women of varying ages.
His face says save me. Screams it, in fact.
“Go ahead,” I tell Vivi. “I’ll find you in a bit.”
I’m almost too amused by the scene to oblige Jax’s silent request, but I step into their circle anyway. “Pardon me, ladies. Do you mind if I borrow Mr. Biggs for a moment? He promised he’d teach me blackjack.”
Crestfallen, they release him.
He flattens his short hair. “That was brutal.”
“I know a cry for help when I see one.”
“Do you actually need help learning how to play?” He glances over his shoulder at the game tables. “I’d love to do something other than talk to strangers.”
“No, but we can actually play if you want.”
“Rivers! Biggs! Over here.”
Andy beckons us over to the poker table, where he and Eric are already seated.
Jax sighs. “Fair warning—Eric’s already half in the bag.”
Great. “Where’s his wife?”
Discomfort twists his lips as he nods back toward the group of women who I saved him from.
“Yikes. One of those flirts is married?”
To Eric, no less?
“Oh, they’re all married.” He tugs at his tie. “I hate events. C’mon, let’s go see what Andy wants.”
We close in on the table, and Andy points to the three empty seats on his left. “Please, join us.”
As if we have a choice.
Jax takes the seat next to Andy, mercifully putting two bodies between me and Eric. At least that gives me a buffer zone. And Jax’s sandalwood cologne drowns out Andy’s boozy scent.
“We could use one more player.” Andy plants a leathery hand on Jax’s shoulder to anchor himself as he twists to scan the room behind him.
I also check behind us, searching for Vivi. But she’s caught up in a conversation with Callum and Nic at the bar, so I leave her be.
“Hey, McLaren!” Andy hollers.
From his spot near the wall, Leo looks up from his phone, which he seems to be using to avoid any social interaction whatsoever.
His gaze meets mine. My cheeks warm like I’ve done something wrong. I’ve got to stop drinking at work functions, especially champagne.
I feel compelled to mouth the word run so Leo can enjoy his night without dealing with management, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“You want to join?” Andy asks, though not with the inflection of a question. More like you want to join.
My stomach twists.
Couldn’t we have summoned one of the women who were just undressing Jax with their eyes? Eric’s wife, perhaps? She’d probably make for better, if not more upbeat, company. Leo will not enjoy this.
Not that I really know all that much about what he does or doesn’t enjoy. Maybe he’s a closet gambler and this is right up his alley.
He slides into the empty seat beside me like a man without a choice and places his rocks glass on the felt tabletop. He’s slow to let go of it, his knuckles a little white.
I recall with a jolt the way that calloused hand felt wrapped around mine back in my office when he agreed to help me. The scratchy warmth of his palm.
On second thought: more champagne. I take a generous sip.
Since he doesn’t bother to say hello to me or anyone else, I elbow him lightly.
We’re seated so close at these makeshift tables, I barely have to move my arm to make contact.
“No hello?” I suck my teeth, which feels like a very undignified thing to do in an expensive dress.
“Not for nothing, I’ve never seen you and Oscar the Grouch in the same room. ”
He glances at me askance. A lock of his hair falls perfectly forward on his forehead. “Hello, Rivers.”
I asked for it, but the rich timbre of his voice still catches me off guard. Maybe it’s his proximity. We’re not usually this close.
Not while he’s wearing a nice suit and does, in fact, smell expensive.
“Our new captain in the flesh!” Andy lifts his glass in the air. “Let the games begin.”