8. A Shittier Re
A Shittier Reunion
Kodi
Iholed up in the communal office for the next three days tackling Kean’s list, ordering him clothes and other home essentials and scheduling a variety of appointments, from the dentist to setting up the internet at his condo.
This dude has lived in Destin for nearly two years and hadn’t set up his internet yet.
If I didn’t have a firm grasp on what his brand of crazy was, I did now.
And the only saving grace to the heavy work load and long hours was that I barely had to interact with Kean.
After a few minutes' hesitation, I texted him updates on everything I’d gotten done and each time I received just one response, a thumbs-up emoji.
At first I was surprised a man like Kean would use emojis, but then I realized that he’d do just about anything to avoid using his own words.
You’d think having a boss who avoided communication as much as possible would make things easy. But it was frustrating as fuck, especially when there were appointments he expected me to attend to but didn’t actually say that.
And it was in this moment of frustration, as I was packing to head to Kean’s house for the internet appointment, that Renee Hall walked into the communal office.
Renee fucking Hall.
If there was one person from college I’d be grateful to never see again, it was her.
She was, and I’m not exaggerating, the most sickeningly sweet bitch to ever walk the planet Earth.
Maybe even the biggest bitch in the Milky Way, but given that I hadn’t met any aliens yet, I was holding off on that judgment.
Renee and I … had a history. She was the stereotypical sorority girl, pearls and all.
And we never would have crossed paths if we didn’t share one specific interest. Soccer.
Soccer and the men who played it. So we ended up at the lot of the same parties, going after the same guys.
And our relationship ended up being … a little testy.
I liked to drink, stay out late, sleep around, and she liked to pretend she didn’t do or wasn’t interested in all the same things.
The last time I saw her was at a party right after graduation. I flipped her off while the midfielder pulled me into his bedroom.
It was kind of a shit lay, but since Renee had her eye on him, I got a different kind of satisfaction out of it.
I thought I’d never see her again. She was a classic white California bitch, always talking about how the West Coast was better, always dumping on the South for being … well everything folks think of when you say “the South.” I would’ve thought she wouldn’t be caught dead living here.
But here she was. Wearing an aggressively pink pencil skirt, matching suit jacket, and a fucking Destin Dastards badge. The badge for players’ agents.
“Well,” she said, clicking her tongue, blue eyes narrowing as she honed in on me at the corner desk, laptop halfway in my bag. “I didn’t expect to see someone with your … reputation to be here.”
Time had not changed that sticky, sweet voice of hers and how it made me feel like I had jam hands and just ran them over my face.
“Hi, Renee,” I said through gritted teeth, quickening the pace at which I shoved my shit into my bag. “I’d love to catch up, but I was just heading out.”
I tossed my bag over my shoulder, cringing when it swung too hard and crashed into the desk beside me. If my laptop was wrecked because of this bitch —
“So.” Renee stepped into the walkway, blocking my escape, and leaned closer. “Who’d you sleep with to get a job here? Must’ve been someone pretty high up for them to overlook your Marshall incident.”
“I didn’t —” I started to say, voice raising, but I stopped myself. I was at work, I was not in good standing with my boss, and my only chance to get my dream position was dependent on good behavior. I couldn’t make a scene, not here.
So with a death grip on my bag and gritted teeth, I said, “Like I said, I can’t talk right now.”
“What? That loser of a goalie you’re working for need someone to help get the stick out his ass?”
I was a little surprised that, one, Renee would curse out in the open like that, since she used to give me a ton of shit for my sailor’s mouth.
And two, that she knew what my job was and who I was working for.
The company had an internal contact sheet, which would’ve had my info, but it’d be wild for her to catch that being added.
“Yes, I’m gonna go help him douche, too,” I mumbled under my breath before pushing past her.
“Well, enjoy it while it lasts, because he won’t be on the field that much longer,” she said in a little singsong voice.
My head snapped back to look at her, to see that smug smile and teeth so white they looked unnatural.
She knew she got me and whatever the fuck she wanted out of this conversation.
And even though I knew that, even though I knew giving her any bit of my attention meant things would go south one way or another, even though I knew she was nothing but trouble, I bit.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, nothing.” She shrugged. “Just that my player is going to replace Kean sooner rather than later.”
I paused, flipping through my mental list of other keepers on the team. The second-string guy was … “Lunez?”
“Yup. He just transferred here and I’m going to get him to first-string before the season’s up.”
“You think you’re going to make a mid-season lineup change? What? Are you planning on injuring Kean?”
“I don’t have to. Carlos is a memorable player, Kean is not.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that. Kean had no presence as a player at all.
It was like he was only here to play the game and not engage with the crowd.
And while that might be a valid tactic for some leagues and tournaments, this wasn’t one of them.
And that was especially the case now because of the owners’ push towards growing their socials. But …
“That’s not enough for them to kick Kean to the curb. He averages more saves than Brooker averages goals, they’d be insane to bench him in favor of a complete rookie.”
“Sure, he’s got good stats, but those aren’t selling tickets and that’s more important to the owners.”
“That’s —” True. It’s 100 percent true and it was also probably one of the reasons why Hansen assigned me to be his PA. He’d mentioned getting Kean on socials, but with Kean’s general asshole-ness, I was already putting that on the back burner.
But based on what Renee was saying, putting it off wasn’t an option.
Plus, I wouldn’t put it past this bitch to push Lunez harder to bench Kean and get back at me.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Renee said, patting my shoulder, her voice pitching higher, sweeter. “I can suggest Carlos takes you on as his PA if you want.”
“Like fucking hell I’d work for your player,” I said.
Kind of growled. Renee’s eyes widened in surprise before her face relaxed into a pleased smile.
I was falling right into her hands, but fuck her.
“Kean’ll bring in the ticket sales. I’ll bet he can even get more followers than Lunez as once he gets going. ”
“Yeah?” she said with a singular chuckle. “And how’s he gonna do that?”
“I’m gonna do it for him.”
Renee threw her head back and laughed.
“You can’t seriously think you can get Kean to a million followers before I can get him on the bench? I guess you haven’t grown out of the bad bets, have you?”
“It’s not a bet,” I said, even though the idea of getting a million followers from scratch made a pit form in my stomach. But I pushed through, idiotic though it may be. “It’s a promise.”
“Mhmm.” Renee crossed her arms and cocked her hip, that smile growing sinister. But then she just patted my shoulder, the soft two pats you give to a kid who just lost a game, and said, “Good luck with that.”
And even though I hadn’t made an actual bet, even though she had nothing to do with determining my career, and even though I knew she was just being a bitch to be a bitch, I got a sinking feeling in my gut that if I didn’t rise to this self-made challenge, I’d be fucked.