When Mabel lets go, Charlotte gets straight to business. “The fosters are coming over on Tuesday. Mischief and Mayhem. Do you want to help with them?”
“Obviously,” Mabel says.
Like it’s that easy, and maybe some things just are.
What’s not easy?
Making it to the first blind-date cookie event on Monday night. I promised Mabel I’d be there early to help set up, but the team meeting started late. It’s going overtime too.
“You’ve done a good job turning things around after last season’s rough ending. We’ve got a few more games to play, but I just want to remind all of you that we don’t have much time off during the holidays,” Coach Ahmed says—stuff we should all know by now.
But I’ve learned over the years that some players go a little too hard over the short Christmas break and come back sluggish.
Translation: hungover as hell.
“So hydrate, men. Okay?”
Ivan chuckles. “Shouldn’t you save this speech for New Year’s?”
“And I will,” Coach deadpans. “Because that’s when you’ll really need it. Keep up the workouts, keep up the conditioning. Let’s finish the year strong and start the new one even stronger.”
“Yes, sir,” Miller says, like a good soldier.
“Suck-up,” Lake mutters.
“Feel free to do extra push-ups, Axelrod,” Coach fires back.
“I love push-ups,” Lake says matter-of-factly.
“Of course you do.” Coach shakes his head.
He turns it over to the assistant coach to review plays and strategy for our next few games, and I check my watch. Shit. No way I’m helping set up now.
“Got somewhere to be, Knight?” Coach asks.
Chastened, I look up. “Right here, sir.”
“I thought so.”
Twenty minutes later, the meeting finally ends. Soon I’m flying along the Embarcadero toward the Golden Gate Bridge, and I call Mabel on the car’s speaker.
She answers after a few rings. “Hey, what’s up?” She’s friendly, but sounds busy.
“The meeting ran late. I’ll be fifteen minutes behind. Maybe twenty.”
She pauses. Plates clatter in the background. Shit. Did I piss her off?
“And here I thought you were never late,” she teases. “Or was that just what you told Ronnie to get me into the trailer?”
The callback makes me laugh, tension loosening in my chest. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“It’s all good. No worries,” she says. “I’ve got Aisha here—we can handle it.”
But that doesn’t sit right with me. I want to handle things too.
After we hang up, I call Annabelle. “Got any mistletoe?”
“Of course I do, hun. I’m a plant dealer.”
