Chapter Twenty-Four
“Wait, wait, wait. I don’t see any Szechuan chicken.”
Marcee poked her head out of the refrigerator. “Come again?”
Remy’s voice took on a slightly panicked edge. “You did get my Szechuan chicken, right? With pork fried rice?”
It’d been over a month since Cope’s hospitalization.
Remy was there for her in a way no man ever had been, and if she didn’t know it before, she did then: he had her heart, wholly and without constraint.
As such, she and Alex decided to let him partake in their Friday-night tradition of beer, takeout and movies.
Aside from Freddie Mercury, Remy was the only male who’d ever attended.
“I ordered it. Whether or not they put it in there is anyone’s guess.” She shut the door, three bottles of beer in hand. “It probably threw them off. We’ve ordered the same thing every Friday. I don’t think we’ve ever ordered Szechuan chicken.”
Marcee handed Alex her beer as she doused sweet and sour chicken with soy sauce, trying not to grin.
“Nope, definitely not here,” he muttered, his eyebrows drawn together in the most adorable way as he dug around inside the plastic takeout bags. “Blast. I was really looking forward to it.”
Marcee couldn’t resist coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, nestling her chin on his shoulder. God, he smelled tantalizing.
“We’ve got plenty of sesame chicken and fried rice.”
“I guess that’ll do,” he said wistfully.
Her lips brushed his ear as she leaned in and whispered, “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Ew! I heard that,” Alex said.
“Then you better get to the living room or close your ears, because you don’t want to hear what comes next.” She got closer, nibbling his earlobe, and whispered the dirtiest thing she could imagine, which for the record, was pretty damn dirty.
“Bloody hell!” Remy pushed away from the table and turned to the wall, adjusting his pants.
Marcee loved she could affect him that way. It was only fair since he had the same power over her. Still, her cackle was a tad diabolical as she followed Alex into the living room and plopped on the couch.
Freddie Mercury appeared seemingly from thin air as soon as Remy entered the room and promptly curled up on top of the couch next to his head. They might’ve had Freddie for years, but in the event of a split, it was obvious he’d be leaving with Remy, not her or Alex.
Traitor.
“Okay, what is tonight’s feature flick?”
Marcee paused for dramatic effect. “The Mummy!”
Alex bounced on the couch seat like a little kid. “Yes! Wait! The old black and white original or the sexy one with Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz? Oh yeah, wasn’t there another one with Tom Cruise?”
Marcee scoffed. “We do not speak of the third. The Brendan Fraser one, of course! Remy’s never seen it.”
Alex leaned past her, a forkful of lo mein halfway to her mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding me? It’s a classic!”
“Sorry,” Remy said, picking at the sesame chicken. “I didn’t watch a lot of films growing up. Just another one I missed.”
“Well, we’re remedying that mistake right now.” Marcee punched the buttons on the remote, overly excited at the prospect of witnessing someone else watch one of her favorite movies for the first time.
Not ten minutes into the movie she got a text message from Nicole.
Seeds for District are posted!
Her heart fluttered as her fingers flew over the screen, pulling up the website where the results were posted.
“What’s going on?” Remy asked, eyes bouncing between her face and the phone.
“Seeding for the district tournament has been posted.”
“Damn, really? Let’s look.”
“Don’t act so interested. We all know you’ve got the first seed.
” It came out sharper than she intended, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the screen.
“Your team is undefeated and shoe-ins for winning. Pemberton, however, has two losses under the belt. We’re no one’s favorite by any stretch of the imagination. ”
“Ouch,” he muttered.
There! The results loaded. She scanned past the boys’ teams, hovering as she reached the girls.
“Third.” Freaking third. Not gold, not silver, but bronze. Not that it was how things would ultimately shake out, but it was still annoying.
“Third is fine!” Alex said, nudging her with her leg.
Marcee closed out the screen and tossed her phone back onto the table. Third. Not even second. Wilkes was going to have a coronary. If she didn’t find a way to pull a championship out of her ass, it was over.
It really and truly sucked. The team had worked so hard all school year and showed so much promise.
While Cope being out had pushed the girls mentally and really made them rally as a team, her absence on the soccer field was apparent.
Their offense was struggling without her quick feet and impeccable timing.
Still, the girls never quit. Harper had stepped up as a leader at practice and it made Marcee’s heart swell with pride every time the other girls responded.
“Alex is right,” Remy said, stopping when his cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and stood, but not before she read the name Seth. “I’ll be right back.”
She barely felt the couch as she sank into the cushions.
He was trying to be delicate by taking his assistant coach’s call out on the front porch, but even still, it didn’t change anything.
They were gushing over their place heading toward District, while she sat there fortifying herself for the inevitable.
“Talk to me.” Alex leaned back on the arm of the couch, beer in hand.
“What is there to talk about? It is what it is. We both have a duty to make sure our girls do as well as they possibly can. It just so happens he’s better at it.” Marcee thought she’d gotten over the envy when it came to their jobs, but she overestimated her level of maturity.
“I know you, Marcee, and even someone who doesn’t would be able to tell you’re not okay.”
She was so tired of the same song and dance.
Remy’s career continued its upward trajectory, whilst hers was mere feet off the ground, minutes away from imploding.
If her best wasn’t good enough to prove she deserved her job, what then?
Even if the competition put a strain on them, she wanted their relationship. She wouldn’t give up on their love.
Marcee hit play on the movie, taking solace in the fact that Rick O’Connell made it out of the desert and got everything he ever wanted. Eventually.
“I am okay,” she replied stubbornly. “I have to be.”
When Remy came back inside, the look on his face made her forget her tortured feelings.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, inching forward on the couch. Remy collapsed next to her and took a deep breath. “What?”
“That was Seth.”
“I figured as much. We know you got first seed.”
Remy shook his head. “He wasn’t calling about that.”
If he wasn’t calling about that, what else could make Remy look like he was going to be sick?
Remy handed her his phone silently, nodding at the screen. “Take a look.”
The internet browser was pulled up and an article loaded. She scrolled down, her stomach sinking as she realized what it was.
“What’s going on?” Alex asked, reaching for her.
“Henry Taylor published an article about Remy,” Marcee replied, then added, “and about me.”
There were multiple pictures of Remy around town, Remy and her at the community center field and smoothie shop, her on the sidelines of a game coaching, and even the shot of her in her formal wear at the charity gala.
Forget losing soccer games. The article was all Wilkes needed to fire her. She was cooked.
“What does it say?” Alex asked, craning to look at the screen.
“Injured London Bad Boy Goes Stateside and Plays Nice,” she read out loud, cringing.
“It says the reason I really left London was because I was having an affair with an American soccer coach.” Remy’s words fired like a bullet, rage simmering below the surface. “It’s clickbait, barely an ounce of truth in the whole damn piece!”
She couldn’t say she was surprised. After everything Remy told her about the British press, and having met Henry Taylor, it was all very on point for him. She should be irate, but a sense of stark acceptance and resignation washed over her. This had always been coming. It was only a matter of time.
Marcee passed the phone back to him, a tremor running over her hand.
“I’m so screwed. I’m not even going to get a chance to beat you at the district tournament.
Wilkes is going to fire me for breach of contract.
” She needed a drink. She reached across Alex and grabbed her beer, downing the contents in one swig.
“I won’t let that happen.” Remy jumped up, grabbing his keys and coat from the table. “I’ve got calls to make. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Remy—” she yelled, mouth hanging open as the door slammed shut. Freddie Mercury hissed and fell behind the couch.
“What is he going to do?” Alex asked, poking at her chicken.
“I have no idea. What can he do?” How was she going to tell Nicole? She didn’t deserve this. She could lose her job and her friend.
Marcee had to figure something out, even if it was making plans for post-termination. Grabbing her phone, she lurched off the couch and headed for the front door.
“Be right back,” she told Alex and went out onto the porch. She texted Eli.
Sooooo, that job offer still good?
She would find something for Nicole, too. Surely if Eli had enough pull to hire whoever he wanted, he could find a spot for Nicole.
Eli responded.
Hell yeah, it is!
Marcee wanted to join in on his enthusiasm, but all she could feel was her world crashing and burning. Anything from there out felt like damage control.
Awesome. It’s looking more and more like I may need one come May.
I’ll let you know for sure soon
After turning her phone on silent, Marcee sat outside on the steps for a while, looking up at the North Carolina stars and trying to divine what it all meant. But by the time her head hit the pillow later, she hadn’t figured out a single thing.