Chapter 18 #2
I raised an eyebrow at him. “I do landscaping. Did you know that? Because you’ve never asked, but I think you should know if you didn’t. Sorry I’m not sorry that I can’t live up to your standards.”
“What standards?”
“Your standards. I can’t give you advice because I’m too young? Or is it that I’m poor? Wait, it’s because I’m a girl. Is that it?”
“Why are you being so stubborn about this? That isn’t what I meant.”
That had me letting out a sharp laugh. “If our roles were switched, you really think you wouldn’t say something similar if not worse? Seriously?” He’d tell me to eat shit and kiss his ass for sure, and that was the PG-13 version of it.
He knew it was the truth from the way his tongue poked at the side of his cheek.
I gently tugged my arm away from him, and he let me that time.
“Look, I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now.
You don’t get to take your anger out on me and expect me to get over it like nothing happened.
The fact is, I would never say what you said to me to anyone.
I thought we were friends, and that’s my mistake.
I don’t want to be friends with someone who looks down on me.
I really do need to get to work.” I took a couple steps back and offered him a smile that I wasn’t feeling. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I had no idea if or how he responded because I took off. I hadn’t been lying. Marc and I had a lot of work to do.
I STARED at the images on the tablet. “Is it?”
Was it me in the pictures? Yes, it was. Clasping my hands and settling them between my thighs, I looked away from the photographs that had been taken right outside of my doctor’s building.
The first picture I’d been shown was of me walking alongside Kulti with my head down. The second was of me standing by his car right before getting in, and the third showed me getting in while the German stood a little too close behind.
It was definitely me. There was no denying it; anyone with decent vision could recognize who it was.
So the fact that Gardner, Sheena, and Cordero, the Pipers’ general manager, had invited me to a meeting to talk about this had me on edge.
Is it you? Cordero had asked shortly before Sheena slid the tablet over.
It was a trick freaking question, and I didn’t like it. Maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t a liar and that I didn’t have anything to hide. Regardless, I was still on edge.
I looked at the man behind this crap right in the eye and nodded. “It’s me.”
None of them looked remotely surprised. Of course they wouldn’t. Mr. Cordero knew damn who was on the photographs; he just wanted me to slit my own throat with a lie.
Digging my hands a little deeper into the crack between my thighs, I shrugged at them.
“He went with me to my doctor’s appointment when I wasn’t doing well.
” Doing well was vague enough so that it wasn’t a total lie.
Keeping my face neutral, I kept my gaze steady on the team’s general manager. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
The Argentinian man settled onto his hip, his chair the closest to mine. “‘Wrong’ is a bit subjective, don’t you think?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “But in this case, I haven’t violated any terms of my contract or done anything I wouldn’t be upfront with my dad about.”
Well… I had told my dad hardly anything about my friendship with the German. Or anyone else really, but that was mainly because everyone would make a big deal over it, and there wasn’t a deal to make, big or small.
A knock on the door prevented anyone from saying another word.
Gardner instructed the person to come in, and I couldn’t say I was shocked to see Kulti.
His eyes caught mine as he took the seat nearest the door.
His face was expressionless, his broad shoulders loose.
Still in his clothing from practice, track pants and a Pipers T-shirt, he leaned back against his chair and stared straight at Mr. Cordero. “What’s going on?”
The general manager reached for the tablet on Gardner’s desk and passed it to the German. “These images were released a couple of days ago.”
Kulti glanced at the screen for a second, and only a second, before handing the device back with an impatient look. “What’s wrong with them?”
“These are pictures of you and one of the team’s star players on one of the most popular tabloid websites in the world,” Mr. Cordero explained in a cool voice that sounded just shy of crossing the edge into smart-ass town.
In what would begin two of the most unreal moments of my life, Kulti crossed his muscular arms—so lean, I could see veins crisscrossing his forearms and one or two running up his biceps—and shrugged. “What I see is a picture of me taking my friend to the doctor.”
“Your friend?” Cordero asked in disbelief.
“That’s what I said,” Kulti snapped back. His volume was low, but there wasn’t any mistaking his irritation with the conversation.
Mr. Cordero turned to me, like I could possibly be handling Reiner Kulti calling me his friend in front of three Pipers’ staff, well.
“You’re friends?” It wasn’t my imagination that he sounded like a bit more of an ass when he’d been speaking to me than he had when speaking to the German.
Then again, I wasn’t some country’s national icon.
I nodded at the Pipers’ general manager, my emotions twisted into knots at Kulti’s admission. “Yes.” We were friends when he wasn’t getting on my nerves at least.
“Friends,” he said absently. “What kind of friends?”
Yeah, I wanted to smack him. I mean, I knew what it looked like, but seriously?
I’d given up so much for the Pipers, and he would think that I’d do something to jeopardize the only part of soccer I really had left?
My face flushed red as I tried to talk myself out of saying something that could only hurt my career more than it already had been.
I knew what he was trying to do, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let this man who worked in an office make me out to seem like I didn’t take this job seriously. “We are the kinds of friends that have a lot of things in common.” Jesus Christ.
Before I could say anything else logical, the German cut in with his response. “The greatest kind. I don’t understand why that’s a problem.”
If I was one to swoon, I would have, but instead I let my brain react to his comment instead of my heart. Had I been expecting him to denounce me? Yeah, I guess I had.
All right. Okay.
He’d still been a dick a few days before. What he said didn’t change anything.
“There isn’t a problem or a reason for us to be here,” the German stated in a way that left little room to argue. “You were well aware of the media coverage my coming here would bring, and you wanted me here either way. You can’t pick and choose what people publish.”
Sheena let out a tight laugh. “Mr. Kulti, it doesn’t look good—”
“You can’t tell me who I can or can’t be friends with,” he cut her off. “It doesn’t really matter what something looks like if it isn’t what it truly is, no?”
Wait a second, that sounded sort of familiar….
Sheena turned her attention to me, her face slightly flushed. “Sal, with your history—”
This bitch started to go there. I needed to cut it short. “I haven’t done anything wrong in this case. If I had, I wouldn’t have a problem taking responsibility for my actions. He’s my friend, and there isn’t anything inappropriate about our friendship. I have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
The sting of guilt that I hadn’t told anyone about him was there, but I would swear I had only kept it to myself because I didn’t want this type of attention. There were some things people couldn’t understand, and obviously this was one of them.
Kulti uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his face even further away from the back of the chair. “This wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for the PR issues going on with me at this moment. There’s nothing here that is worth us having a conversation. She’s my best friend.”
I shot him a look out of the corner of my eye, reminding him of the shit that had come out of his mouth outside my apartment. It said is that how best friends treat each other? Really?
Apparently he saw my facial expression and didn’t care that I wasn’t feeling particularly friendly at that point. “Nothing any of you say is going to change that. That’s the end of the story. If there’s something else you want, call my manager.”
“Sal—”
I was torn between panicking at why they were making a big deal out of this and debating whether or not it was worth standing up for myself. “They’re just pictures of us getting into his car,” I argued halfheartedly, unsure what route I needed to take.
I was a good player, one of the most consistent on the team, but the truth was everyone was replaceable. I couldn’t afford to act like a diva, but at the same time, the little voice inside my head wanted me to tell these people—and by people, I really meant Cordero—to fuck off.
“Miss Casillas, I think you’ve made it clear your decision-making skills are nothing to—” Cordero began ranting.
Kulti lurched forward in his seat, and I felt my eyes go wide at his defensive posture. “I’m going to tell you right now that you don’t want to finish that sentence.”
Gardner coughed. “There’s no reason for anyone to get bent out of shape.
I believe you, Sal. If you say that you’re friends, you’re friends.
You’ve never given me a reason to not trust you.
I think we can all agree that we want this season to go smoothly or at least smoother than it has been going. ”
“This is my fault. I will take responsibility for the negative attention, but I won’t let you put the blame on her for befriending me,” Kulti said. “Sal has done nothing wrong.”