Chapter 53
A Celebration
Olli
“Who’s the man?” Brooker shouted, hoping into the locker room with the energy of a child after five gallons of soda and a whole birthday cake. “Where’s the champagne? I wanna pop the cork.”
“Do you think we can ask Langston to transfer Brooker?” Alvarez asked Ricci. “I’d rather not deal with this for however long it’ll last.”
“Let’s give him a week, then I’ll talk to him about it,” Christenson said, clapping the other two on the back, smiling for the first time in months.
In the last fifteen minutes of the game, after Boyd had called Kodi down to the sidelines, he called a time-out to tell everyone the team had been officially been sold to Becca Langston because of our ‘little stunt.’ Apparently, while the comments were predominantly positive, they were by a demographic that …
wasn’t the old owners’ target. They panicked and made a deal with the first buyer who called.
Apparently, Brooker had ‘leaked’ Kodi’s campaign to Ms. Langston and she made sure she was first to make a bid after it went live.
Christenson saying Brooker would calm down about this in a week was beyond wishful thinking. I’d be grateful if he shut up within a year.
But I couldn’t exactly blame him. Ms. Langston buying the team was the best possible outcome from the campaign. Especially since —
“Everyone decent?” Coach shouted as he stepped into the locker room. Looking around and seeing no one had gotten to the changing part of our post-game routine, he opened the door to let Kodi in. “All right, listen up, you fucking assholes, 'cause we’ve got a lot of changes coming.”
We all settled around the coach, standing or on the benches. Christenson joined Coach’s side and Kodi stayed there too, holding a phone up to the group.
“Ms. Langston,” Coach said, gesturing to the phone. “Take it away.”
“Hello, Dastards! And congratulations on your win!” Ms. Langston cheered across the phone and already the mood in the room was lighter.
After we’d heard the news, Ricci and Brooker were finally able to break through the Harlots’ defenses and score.
It was only goal point, far from the most exciting game we’ve played, but it was still a win.
And our old owners would never have congratulated us on a game like that.
“First, I want to say I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there in person.
As I’m sure you all know, the previous owners had …
some personal reasons to sell mid-season.
And I was so impressed with your latest social posts and visions, that I knew this was a community of players I wanted to foster, even if that meant some mid-season changes. ”
Boyd huffed, but Ms. Langston pointedly ignored him.
“I will be at Okaloosa Stadium starting Monday to meet with everyone on the team and all the other staff members. I want to hear your honest thoughts about team management and how you envision fostering the Dastards fan base and community. The one change I’ll be making, effective immediately, is Ms. Davey’s promotion to the team’s social media manager.
Given you’ve already worked with her as if that was her role, I imagine that won’t be too big of a change. ”
“Fuck yes,” I cheered and a silence fell over the room for the briefest of seconds before the whole team broke out in cheers.
I jumped off the bench and went to Kodi, picking her up and swirling her around.
Then I held her close, tight, so relieved things went the way they did.
“I told you you could do it, babe. Congratulations.”
“I’m assuming that’s Kean?” Ms. Langston said over the phone.
I set a giggling Kodi down and mumbled some apologies.
“Congratulations on your new relationship. Brooker explained some of the backstory about that, but come next week, you two will have to speak with HR to set up some boundaries, understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we both said quickly, Kodi still giggling a little.
“Good. It sounds like everyone is still celebrating, so join them. I’ll speak with y’all next week. Kodi, could you take me off speaker and hand the phone back to Coach Boyd?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kodi said, pressing a button before handing the phone to Boyd. The man huffed, but took the phone and walked out of the locker room. With him gone, I picked Kodi back up, a couple of the guys whistling in the background and giving me general shit.
“What’d I tell you?”
“Yeah, yeah. You believed in me, you knew I could do it, blah, blah, blah. But, Olli, this is amazing! I got the job! I’m like, a Dastard Dastard, like real deal. I have a full-time social media job! With insurance!”
“Fuck yeah you do. And it was your idea that got us an owner who actually calls us after a game. I can’t tell you the last time I heard an owner congratulate me on a win.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kean,” Brooker said, looping an arm around my shoulder. “You didn’t win anything. You spent the game on the bench.”
“Not by choice,” I grumbled, trying to shake him off. But Kodi took one arm off me to bring Brooker into a group hug.
“I can’t believe you called Ms. Langston and convinced her to put a bid on us! That was amazing!”
“Nah, all I did was tell her to keep an eye on our socials. You’re the one who made a killer video.”
“Hell yeah, she did,” Taylor said, joining the hug. “Now let’s go celebrate!”
In the past, I skipped post-game celebrations. I didn’t see the point of going out and being hungover while traveling back home sucked.
But back then, I was kind of an asshole and kept my nose to the grindstone. Now, I cared about these assholes and they felt like family.
So that’s how Fuller got us to all line up outside a tattoo parlor after five drinks.
“You don’t have to get the same exact one,” he was telling Christenson while showing off his new, concerningly red, tattoo. “But, like, how cool would it be if the whole team had soccer balls with pirate hats on them, in like cartoon style or sketches or different colors.”
“I —” Sosa started to say before hiccups made him pause. “Am totally down.”
“How much does it hurt?” Ricci asked, looking at Fuller with some skepticism.
“Not that much,” Fuller said quickly.
“I think my mom would kill me,” Taylor muttered.
“Dude, you’re an adult.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Are you getting one?” Kodi asked, resting her head on my shoulder while the others kept chatting.
“Absolutely not. No way in hell am I getting this stupid design on my body forever.”
“Aw, come on. I’m gonna get one.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You can’t tell me what to do! I’m a part of the team! I’m getting the team tattoo.”
“Yeah, Kean!” Sosa shouted. “Don’t be sexist!”
“I’m not being sexist. I don’t think any of you should get a tattoo, we’re too drunk.”
“Guys, I have bad news,” Christenson said, stepping out of the parlor. “They’re booked for the night. And they also said something about me being too drunk. But I don’t look that drunk, right?”
He looked to Brooker, who shook his head vehemently, along with the other guys. None of them could nod their heads in a straight line, though.
“Let me talk to him, man. I got mine done here yesterday,” Fuller said, then looked up at the shop’s sign and squinted. “At least I think it was this one.”
“All right, that’s it. Carter, can you help me get these asses back to the hotel before they make any poor, permanent decisions?”
The guys all started yelling at me and I batted them away to look for Carter in the crowd. If Christenson was drunk enough to consider a tattoo, and get turned away for one, then Carter was my only hope.
But when I finally pushed through the boys to see him, he was on a bench, asleep.
“God fucking damn it.” I ran a hand over my face before looking around to assess everyone in the group. They were all wasted, faces red, eyes hazy, bodies rocking ever so slightly. Everyone but …
“Brooker.” I smacked the back of his head.
“Ow, what the fuck, man?”
“Help me get everyone back to the hotel.”
“But we’re celebrating,” he whined.
“You can come back and get the tattoo when you’re fully sober.”
“Oh, like hell am I tatting some stupid shit on this masterpiece,” he said, gesturing to his body. I smacked him again. “All right, all right. Party's over guys, we gotta go sleep this off instead of bond.” Another smack.
“What? No tattoos?” Kodi pouted, clinging on to me as I pulled out my phone to call a cab.
“No. You can get a tattoo when you can say the alphabet backwards.”
“I don’t think I can do that sober,” she grumbled.
“All right, grumpy asshole, get in,” Brooker said, pushing Kodi and me to a van that just pulled up to the curb.
“What?”
“I called a car for us a bit ago, I just wanted to see how far everybody’d go. I wasn’t actually gonna let anyone get a tattoo. Jeez.”
I stared blankly at Brooker for a solid second while the other guys shuffled into the car.
“Are you actually responsible?”
“Of course. I just don’t have a stick up my ass like you do. Though …” He paused, looking at me with a small smile. “You’re not as much of an ass these days.”
“Shut up.” I shoved him into the car, then gently guided Kodi in. But once I settled in my seat and made sure Kodi was buckled in, I turned back to him and said, “But I am glad I’m on a team with you.”