Javi continues, “Still, the optics are shit. It’s almost the end of May, DiBlanco, and the season is on the line. We can’t afford these off-pitch distractions. This video is all over the damn place. It’s a fucking circus. The communications department is getting slammed with calls.”
“I understand,” I say softly.
“You understand what?”
“I know there are things that you need to do to protect the team, Javi. I respect that. If you need to bench?—”
“I can’t afford to bench you,” he cuts me off. “The team’s going to issue a statement. I want you to apologize?—”
“No.”
He gapes at me. “No?”
I shake my head. “I’m not apologizing to that piece of shit.”
Javi sighs heavily and drops his face into his hands. “The ego?—”
“It’s not my ego. It’s my self-worth,” I explain. “I’m not apologizing.”
“Will you at least apologize for losing your cool and?—”
“Nope.”
Javi’s eyes pinch shut as he sucks in another breath. His nostrils flare and I know he’s two seconds from losing it on me. Not that I blame him.
“Luca,” Javi spits my name like a curse.
“I’ll give you everything I have on the pitch. And I’ll keep my head down off it. I won’t post anything on social media, I won’t engage. I’ll lay low. But I’m not apologizing for shit.”
“And if this guy, Sergio, presses charges?”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“In the case or in the court of public opinion?” Javi asks and I detect the slightest bit of respect.
“Both.”
He nods and waves his hand away. “Lock your shit down. And show up on the pitch.”
“Swear it,” I agree, leaving his office.
The locker room has cleared out, but Alejandro and Andrés are waiting for me.
“How’d it go?” Andrés asks.
“The team is issuing a statement,” I explain.
“Naturally.” Ale nods.
“They want me to apologize,” I tack on.
My friends look at me for a beat before laughing.
“Yeah fucking right,” Andrés mutters. “You never apologize.”
“That’s because I only do shit when I know I’m right.” I shrug. “I’m not sorry for what I did or what I said. Sergio had it coming.”
“My sister is pissed at you.” Ale tilts his head.
