“My right-hand man, Paolo, had to take a step back this year. His father is ill and Paolo went back to Sicily to spend his final months with him.” His voice wobbles and I understand that his empathy is rooted more in Paolo’s sorrow than it is in his camp being short-staffed.
“I’m sorry, Luca.” I place a hand on his forearm.
“I need help, Carla. I need someone with coaching expertise. Someone who can handle logistics. I need…you.”
“I—wait, what?” I sputter.
Luca drags a hand through his curly hair. “I know it’s last minute. I mean, we’d have to go to Tuscany one weekend and make sure everything is set up. We’d have to finalize the schedule, sort out bunking arrangements, assign coaches…”
“Luca, I’m coaching. I can’t leave my girls hanging.”
“I’m not asking you to. We’d work on this at night. On Sundays and random days off. I know, it’s a lot, Carla. It’s a hell of a lot of work. But I can’t let this program fail. And that’s what will happen if I have to manage it on my own this summer.”
I sigh, raking my teeth over my bottom lip as I think about what he’s asking me. The magnitude is astounding because timing is of the essence. “It’s already April.”
“Exactly,” he agrees, miserably. Stressed out and overwhelmed.
“Do you think we could really pull this off in a few months?”
“Yes, I do. Paolo has already completed the bulk of it. But I can’t finish things solo and…”
“And?”
“There’s no one I trust with this as much as you.”
“Alejandro? Andrés?”
“Well, yes. But Ale is preparing to welcome his first child into the world. And he’s wrapping up his first season as Captain. He’d be distracted at best and depleted at worst.”
“True. That’s…fair,” I admit, knowing my brother has been burning the candle at both ends for months now.
“Andrés would be a great asset, especially as a coach during the camp. But logistically…”
“Did he really lose his passport before your team flight to London?” I ask, repeating the incident Ale shared with me.
“He misplaced it,” Luca says, reiterating Andrés’ reasoning. “And that was nothing compared to the time he legitimately forgot where he parked his car and spent three nights biking through the city, pressing his key fob, and hoping to hear his car beep.”
I laugh and Luca’s eyes lighten.
“Bianca?” I give it one last try.
At this, Luca bursts out laughing. “B is the best. And, in all fairness to her, she has helped me out in the past. But Bianca’s liable to take the boys out and get them drunk or arrange them for a photoshoot and make a calendar from the photos before she’d have them commit to a training schedule.”
I sigh, seeing his point. I adore Luca’s sister. In fact, we have a lot in common, which is probably why we get along so well. But, where I understand the commitment and grit required of fútbol training, Bianca would give in and let the boys slack.
I think through Luca’s ask. After everything he’s done for me this year—showing up in Chicago, sending me the job opening at Santa Isabel, training me—I can’t say no. But, as an idea forms in my mind, my excitement builds and I don’t want to turn him down.
“What?” he asks warily.
“What?” I repeat.
“You’ve got that scheming gleam in your eye.”
I chuckle. “I just had a thought…”
“Okay?”
“I’m not trying to hijack your camp…”
