Sneak Peek - First Down
Looking for another sizzling hot sports read? You’re going to love K.T. Quinn’s football series: the Salt Lake City Stallions. You can click here to buy the first book, First Down, or keep reading for a special sneak peek!
Kimberly
“Very good, Mr. Jennings,” I said to my eighty-year-old client in an approving tone. “Give me three more leg presses, great, now two…”
I swept my gaze across the rest of the physical therapy room, taking in the other machines and other trainers helping their clients. The clock on the wall said five minutes to noon.
Although I was excited about lunch, the real reason I kept looking away was because Mr. Jennings’s shorts were too baggy, and the leg press position gave me a very unfortunate view of his junk.
It wasn’t my dream job to be exposed to old-guy-balls all day. When I graduated a few months ago with a B.S. in Kinesiology, I expected to be hired on as the permanent trainer for the BYU Men’s Tennis Team. I had been interning there throughout college, and the coach all but guaranteed me the job.
But then the position went to someone else (because life really sucks sometimes) leaving me scrambling for whatever job I could find.
Which ended up being an entry-level position at the Salt Lake Elderly Rehabilitation Center, helping men like Mr. Jennings strengthen his legs after a hip replacement.
Don’t get me wrong; I still enjoyed my job. I was lucky to be doing anything with my degree. But it wasn’t what I expected once I took the leap from college to the real world.
“Last set,” I said, keeping my eyes firmly locked onto Mr. Jennings’s face. “One more leg press… done!” I clapped my hands and helped him off the machine. “Good work today. Three more PT sessions and I think you’ll be stronger than ever.”
I pointed him in the direction of the discharge window, then wiped off the machine with a disinfectant wipe. Once everything was cleaned up, I headed for the employee break room to eat my lunch.
My boss, Mr. Eggleman, intercepted me halfway to the fridge. “Kimberly, honey. Got a minute to talk about your schedule?”
Mr. Eggleman sucked. He dumped the worst clients on me, and gave preferential treatment to the other Physical Trainers in the office—probably because they all laughed at his corny jokes.
Mr. Eggleman also wore the same stupid blue tie to work every day.
Yeah, that’s not a great reason to dislike your boss, but it still weirded me out.
It’s like this guy was tie-monogamous. I didn’t get it.
“Sure, I’ve got some time,” I said, resisting the urge to grab my sandwich out of the fridge. I was starving. “What’s up?”
He frowned down at a clipboard. “We had a last-minute addition today. I’m penciling him in for noon.”
I glanced at the clock. “I’m supposed to have my lunch break now. I have another client at one, so this is the only time—”
“This is a new client, and he asked for you by name,” Mr. Eggleman interrupted. “Find a way to make it work.”
He asked for me by name? It must have been one of Mr. Jennings’s friends at the retirement home. This wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. I was the only woman who worked here, so the old guys preferred to have me stretching them out.
I didn’t have time to be offended about it, because I needed the clients. But today…
“I really need that lunch break,” I said. “I’m on an intermittent fasting program, which means I skip breakfast and need to eat at noon…”
“Whatever fad diet you’re on is your own business,” Mr. Eggleman replied. He glanced at his watch. “We need you to be a team player, Kimberly. You’ve still got five minutes until the appointment. Eat fast.”
I took a slow, deep breath to keep from saying something I’d regret. I needed this job. More specifically, I needed the paycheck to slowly chip away at the twenty-something thousand dollar student loan balance hanging over my head.
“Sure,” I said in an even tone. “I can squeeze in this client.”
“That’s what I like to hear. And don’t forget to smile! We want our clients to see bright, happy faces when they walk through that door!”
It’s a good thing Mr. Eggleman immediately went back into his office, because it kept him from seeing the wide, sarcastic smile I gave to his back. Mr. Eggleman never smiled to our clients. Neither did my three male colleagues. But when it was me, oh boy, a smile was expected!
I opened the fridge and took out my sandwich.
That put a smile on my face. I unwrapped it delicately at one of the break room tables, like it was a precious gemstone to be appraised.
Long slices of Italian bread, crunchy around the edges and soft in the center.
Thick slices of honey-roasted turkey and Swiss cheese.
A tangy ranch dressing—not a lot, mind you, but just a light coating to give it some pop.
Just the sight of it made my toes curl inside my sneakers.
I know it sounds like I’m writing a love letter to this sandwich, but you have to understand that I had been fasting all morning.
Lunch was like a religious experience. And for a girl fresh out of college working at a job she didn’t like for barely more than minimum wage?
This sandwich was literally the only thing I had to look forward to.
I picked up the sandwich, carefully chose my angle of attack, and sank my teeth into it. A maelstrom of flavors flooded my mouth. I closed my eyes, and for a few brief moments, I was happy.
Mr. Eggleman’s voice killed the mood like a thunderclap. “He’s here.”
I glanced at the clock. “He’s early,” I said around a mouthful of heavenly sandwich. “I still have two minutes!”
“He claims it’s an emergency. And we need to make a good impression with new clients,” he hissed at me. He adjusted his stupid blue tie, then pointed out to the main physical therapy room. “Go!”
I wanted to argue with him. An emergency? This was a physical therapy clinic, not a hospital. We helped people recover in the weeks and months after injuries or surgery. There was no such thing as an emergency.
I peered around the doorway into the main room to see who the client was—and then gave a start.
“Jessie?”
I abandoned my sandwich and hurried into the main PT room. I met Jessie Culver during freshman year, when a dorm party got busted and we had to hide in the same bathroom stall for an hour while the dorm rooms got raided. We had been best friends ever since.
He smiled broadly at me. “Kim.”
“I haven’t seen you since graduation!” I threw myself into his arms. The hug was warm and nice.
Don’t get too excited. Jessie and I were just friends. Plus, he married his college sweetheart during senior year.
“I’m confused. You’re the guy who booked a PT session during lunch?”
Jessie laughed. “Shit. Sorry about that. I forgot Kim’s rule number one: never interrupt a meal.”
I looked him up and down. “Why are you wearing a full suit to PT? You need to change. Which is great, because it’ll give me a chance to finish my sandwich. There’s a locker room through that door.”
Jessie grabbed my arm before I could turn away. “That’s the thing. I’m not here for physical therapy. I need to talk to you.”
I blinked at him in confusion. “You could have called. Or texted. You know, normal methods of communication.”
His face grew serious. “It couldn’t wait that long. Trust me: I wouldn’t have shown up like this if it wasn’t important. It’s about a job opportunity.”
I stood up a little bit straighter. “You have my attention.”
“It’s with the team.”
The team meant the Salt Lake City Stallions. The NFL’s newest expansion team. Jessie had gotten an internship in their marketing office right after graduation.
“Okay,” I said. “You now have my undivided attention.”
“They need a new sports trainer,” he said, smiling like he was giving me a gift. “They want someone totally fresh, right out of college with as little experience as possible.”
“No experience?” I stammered. “That sounds too good to be true…”
He leaned in closer. “This came directly from the team’s head trainer, Sandra Turi. She got excited when I told her I knew someone who could start immediately.”
I think my brain rebooted, because suddenly it was hard to string thoughts together.
A new job.
Doing actual sports medicine.
No more old-guy-balls.
“Are you interested?” Jessie asked. “Because if you want it, I think the job is yours. But you have to come with me right now.”
I hesitated. I hated to leave for a potential new job without having anything in writing. And I doubted my boss would be fine with me taking off the afternoon on such short notice. I glanced toward the break room…
…and saw Mr. Eggleman pick up my uneaten sandwich, look around, and then toss it in the trash.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m interested. Give me a minute.”
I walked into the break room. My boss was brushing off the sandwich crumbs from his hands. Crumbs from the perfect Italian bread that had been baked fresh this morning. He picked up his Working Hard or Hardly Working? coffee mug and paused before it reached his lips.
“Kimberly? Why aren’t you with the new client?” He glanced over my shoulder and scowled. “He’s not even changed yet? Kimberly, honey, you need to direct him to the changing room. It’s the very first step in our routine here, one which you should know by now.”
“You threw away my sandwich,” I said.
His face twisted with annoyance. “That trash you left on the table? It’s bad enough you can’t handle clients, but leaving your garbage around the facility…”
I’ll be honest: I stopped listening to him at this point. I tuned him right out. His lips moved and spittle flew, but I didn’t hear a single word. Time kind of slowed down, the way it does for dogs when they’re jumping for a ball.
Every single day, there are moments where a single decision can change your life forever. Usually, these moments pass by without ever being seized upon.
Today, I didn’t let it pass by.
I reached out, put my palm underneath his coffee mug, and flipped it out of his hand. Dark liquid spiraled through the air, drenching his favorite blue tie. The mug shattered on the floor in a mess of ceramic and coffee.
“What the…” He took a step back and looked down at himself. The color drained from his face. “Why did…”
“I quit.” I beamed at him. “Look! I’m smiling now! Asshole.”
My boss stood there, stunned, as I retrieved my purse out of the nearby employee locker and hurried out into the main room. Jessie was on the phone.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll take the job.”
He lowered the phone. “Good, because I’m already organizing our ride.”
I followed him outside while he continued his phone conversation. Now that it was over, everything that had just happened began to sink in.
I just quit my job.
Oh my God, it was so liberating! I’d never burned a bridge before. The satisfaction of flipping over Mr. Eggleman’s coffee was raw and intense. Was this what cocaine felt like? I had never done drugs before, but this was how I imagined cocaine felt.
“This job better be worth it,” I said.
Jessie was looking up at the sky, the phone still pressed to his ear. “It will be worth it. If you can pull it off.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean, pull it off?”
Jessie hung up the phone and pointed. “We need to be on that soccer field. That’s where they’re landing.”
“Where what is landing?” I asked.
Jessie pointed. “Our ride.”
I watched with shock, and fascination, as a helicopter appeared above the treeline to the north. It banked once, came back around, and then landed in the middle of the soccer field.
“Whose helicopter is that?”
“Kenneth MacMillan,” Jessie replied. “The owner of the Salt Lake City Stallions.”
“The owner sent his helicopter?” I stammered. “To pick me up for an entry-level trainer position? Jessie, what aren’t you telling me?”
“You’re not just an entry-level trainer,” he said as we approached the helicopter. “You’ll be working almost exclusively with one player.”
“Who?”
“Dallas Lockett,” he replied. “The star quarterback.”
KEEP READING
FIRST DOWN