CHAPTER 1
SHIVELY “SHIV” MYERS
The league sponsorsevents throughout the year, and while it’s not required of us to attend, it is “strongly encouraged.” It’s important to the league that the faces of their teams are shown supporting charities and whatever.
This one is about ending childhood hunger. It’s one of my least favorite charities because I’veneverseen any evidence that they’re actually making a difference. According to all of their commercials and marketing, the number of hungry children never declines each year. If they’re bringing in millions of dollars in donations for this one cause, why do those numbers never fluctuate?
I’ve recently read a handful of articles that state the world has the means and resources to end all hunger, homelessness, and unemployment. However, it’s not profitable to do so, and therefore, it’ll never change. That’s how I feel about some of these charities. On the face of them, yes, I’m all about supporting the end of childhood hunger. But the reality is, their own numbers don’t show that they’re making a difference.
Either that, or they’re lying to the public to keep money coming in. Whose pocket is being lined? I strongly feel that someone’s is.
To be fair, I’m not sure ending childhood hunger is the charity function I’m attending. This isn’t exactly the kind of place where a large vinyl banner with the name of the event would be appropriate, not with the crystal chandeliers and the gilded columns. I suppose I’ve seen tackier decorations, but that’s not the vibe for tonight.
Practice begins for the season in a few days. I like to get my obligatory appearance for the year out of the way before the season is underway, so my attention never wavers from my team. There are a handful of smaller appearances I must make during the season, but they’re local volunteer opportunities or team events.
Tonight is a black-tie event, so I’m epically uncomfortable. I despise ties. More than that, I loathe the feel of a tuxedo. It’s far worse than a simple suit. This is what I get for waiting until the end of the summer to choose my poison… uh… I mean charity event appearances.
Frankly, I’d rather just donate money or something. Hell, I’d evensponsorsomething if it meant I could get out of wearing a tux.
It’s fine. Just a few more hours, then I can get out of this get-up and spend the night in the luxurious room upstairs. There’s something to be said about events being held in ritzy hotels. Not only do you get to avoid traffic congestion and travel time, but it’s a simple elevator trip upstairs.
A server stops in front of me to offer a glass of champagne from their tray, and I take one, offering them a thank you. As they pass, I take a sip and try my best not to cringe. I don’t like champagne. It’s bland, and there are too many bubbles. How do you even taste something with so much carbonation?
I’m standing off to the side where very few people are paying attention. I haven’t been noticed by anyone except the one server so far, which doesn’t upset me. I’d much rather be hidden herethan have to talk to people. I hate small talk. It’s such a waste of time.
I glance around as I suffer through another sip of champagne. What I wouldn’t give for someone to come around with glasses of water. You can even make them fancy if you want with slices of weird vegetables or whatever, but at least water is hydrating. I’m not convinced champagne is.
There are a lot of faces here I don’t recognize. I’d say probably the majority. As I’m ready to finish this glass, my gaze catches on one of my players, Dasan Ukiah, and fuck, he looks good in a tux.
He’s smiling as he talks to a small group of people. His long hair falls down his back, the top portion held back with a string of leather. Since his hair is always ringing his head like a halo under his helmet, I tend to forget it’s so long. He has such beautiful golden, or maybe copper, undertones, which classically tells of his Indigenous American heritage. Did I say he fills out a tux beautifully?
Not that I’m checking out my player. That’s a line you don’t cross. All players are off limits regardless of the team they’re on. Hell, I’ll go so far as to say thateveryonein the league is off limits. Workplace romance and all that. No need to add complication where it doesn’t exist.
Even so, I watch Dasan interact with the people surrounding him. He’s taller than they are. I’m used to my team being on skates while I’m in shoes, so I’m used to them being exaggeratingly tall, but even without the few inches skates add, Dasan is tall.
His eyes flick in my direction, and I’m sure I imagine that his smile widens when he spots me. Apparently, I’m not hiding well enough. Or perhaps staring like a creep is the beacon that gives my hiding spot away.
Dasan excuses himself and makes his way toward me, snagging a glass of champagne when a server passes him. His eyes don’t leave mine as he downs half the flute while he walks, one hand in his pocket. How does he look so… suave?
He stops beside me and faces the room full of milling people. “Is it just me, or do you not recognize anyone?”
I snort. “I took note of that a few minutes ago.”
“Is that why you’re hiding in the corner, Coach?”
His smirk gives me chills, the kind that reach into my pants and poke at my balls. Nope. I’m not even going to acknowledge that.
“Yes. I’d like to avoid talking about the weather or some shit. The season hasn’t started, so I don’t have that to talk about.”
“You can discuss the new players and how you’re planning to integrate them,” he suggests.
“Is that a hint that you’d like to know?”
He grins, downing the rest of his champagne. “Yes. We have a solid team, so I’m curious to know what you’re going to do with the new players.”
“We have a solid team,” I agree. “But we’re not making it to the playoffs. Our team has been really good for a few years, but really good isn’t good enough anymore. We need to be better.”
“That’s not really answering my question.”
