The cold water doesn’t help.
Two weeks ago, I had everything under control.
Or so I thought.
Now my future depends on how many sponsors decide not to bail.
How many people decide I’m an athlete, or just another asshole with too much money.
I let the water run through my fingers.
I feel my phone vibrating in my pants pocket—notifications, calls, articles.
I don’t look at it.
It’s enough to know that everyone out there is talking about me.
And no one, not one person, really knows who thefuck I am.
The conference ended twenty minutes ago, and I can still hear the sound of the flashes in my ears.
Nate is literally dragging me into the coach’s office, and I already know this won’t be a conversation.
It’ll be a funeral.
Julian Heart is standing behind his desk, face crimson, the veins in his neck throbbing like he needs an immediate sedative.
He slams a file onto the table as I walk in.
“Do you realize what thefuck you’ve done?”
“Morning to you too, Coach.”
“Don’t get smart, Becker! You just turned an apology press conference into a monologue by a remorseless arrogant prick!”
I lean against the table. “I’m not arrogant. And I have no remorse. I just told the truth.”
“Fuck, Cohen!” Nate intervenes, his voice tight. “The truth is useless if everyone thinks you’re an asshole!”
“Let them think what they want. They had already decided, hadn't they?”
The coach whips around to face Nate, as if he doesn’t even want to address me directly.
“Didn’t you give him clear instructions?”
“Coach—” Nate tries, but he silences him with a gesture.
Heart takes a step forward, and this time he glares right at me. “You don’t get it. We lost two more sponsors just in the last few hours. Two! The club is already in crisis after the crap you guys keep pulling, and you—you just delivered the final blow.”
I run a hand over the back of my neck, trying to stay calm.
“I’m sorry for the club. But I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t offend anyone, I didn’t lie, and I’m not going to trash that girl just to look like a saint.”
“I’m not asking you to look like a saint. You couldn’t look like one even with the goddamn World Cup in your hand!”
Silence.
Only the hum of the air conditioner and my heavy breathing.
