Or screw it, for a gold medal. Why not?
If I moved, played somewhere else and got my nationality…
Whynot?
IfI moved. But I wasn’t going to worry or psych myself out too much. Things happened if they were meant to happen, and if they didn’t, I’d figure out something else.
What I was doing now was moving on with this stage in my life, and I was surprisingly more than okay with it.
I found the equipment manager’s office halfway down the hall on the Pipers’ floor. She was inside and looked a little surprised to see me, but she took my things and said she’d see me later. So apparently, the news hadn’t gotten around that I was out.
This was all totally fine. There was only one other person I’d want to see before I left, and his office was two doors down. It sure as hell wasn’t Cordero either. I had no interest in seeing that miserable man ever again. Plus, I wasn’t sure if he was aware Rey had lied about rejoining the team or not, and I didn’t want to hear about it. His part with me was done. The German had already assured me once more that I didn’t have to worry about him. His money gave him a great legal team, so he said.
Legal team. Jesus. That’s what I’d gotten myself into. He didn’t just have a lawyer, but a whole legal team. God.
You only live once, right?
Gardner was in his office with the door open when I stopped by. I knocked twice. He looked only slightly frazzled as he typed away on his keyboard, frowning when he saw it was me. “Sal. Come in.” He waved me forward. “Shut the door.”
I closed the door behind me and took a seat across from him, hands on my knees.
“Where were you last night?” he asked first thing.
“I left right after the game. Sorry. I just wasn’t in the mood,” I explained truthfully, taking in his tired features. “Are you all right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Same old hell as usual from Cordero, it’s nothing I wasn’t expecting. You? Hold on, what are you doing here?”
I gave him a small smile. “I came to drop off my things with the EM and to tell you bye.”
Gardner leaned forward. “Where are you going?”
This was the whole reason I was here. I really did like Gardner, but I didn’t want to be a blubbering mess. “I’m leaving the team. My contract was bought out a few days ago. As of midnight, I’m a free agent.”
The man, who had coached me for the last four years and 98 percent of the time been fair and understanding, looked like I punched him in the gut. Sure, he’d tried to bench me in the semifinal, but I knew that was Cordero’s doing. I wouldn’t forget four years of friendship with Gardner for one moment. “I don’t understand. You had a year left with us. Are you that angry about the semi that you bought your contract out?”
He knew damn well I couldn’t afford to buy my contract out.
“I’m not leaving because of you, G. I swear.” I’d already decided not to tell him about Cordero trying to trade me because, really, what was the point? It didn’t matter. “It’s just time for a change of pace. Cordero hates my guts more than ever, and half the girls on the team….” The word “robot” bounced around in my head for a second before I thought of this new opportunity in my life with green-brown eyes. “It hasn’t been easy for a little while. I can’t stay when they don’t respect me.”
“Fuck, Sal.” His hands went to rest flat on his desk. “You’re not kidding?”
“Nope.”
It took him a long time to finally say something else. “Do you know what you’re going to do now?”
I would have loved to have told him I’d already gotten signed with another team. I really would have. The fact was I hadn’t. I had no solid clue what I was doing. “I’m not sure yet, but this isn’t the end. I just wanted to drop by and tell you thank you for everything. Keep in touch. Good luck. I’ve loved working with you, and I think you’re great.” I raised my shoulders and let them drop. “Promise to email me, even if it’s just to complain about the girls?”
Later on I’d realize that Gardner took it about as well as Marc had: plain shitty. That’s how well he took the news. He took it really shitty.
He promised to keep in touch and wished me the best as always. That was the last thing we said to each other before I left his office.
I made it ten feet before a feminine voice called out, “Sal!” and Sheena came barreling out of the assistant coach’s office she’d been in a second before.
“Hey, Sheena,” I greeted her.
“Hey, hi. Sorry to come running out, but I wanted to talk to you before you left. You are leaving, right?” I nodded, unsure whether she was talking about leaving the team or leaving the office. “I won’t take your time then, but these pictures popped up last night of you and Mr. Kulti after the game. They aren’t good?—”
“I’m sorry, Sheena. I don’t mean to cut you off, but—” I gave her a tight grin. “—it doesn’t matter. The pictures don’t matter.”
