The pictures? Those were doable. But…
The press conference. A shiver used its spindly legs to crawl up the length of my spine. I made a hocking noise in my throat. “Sheena,” I said steadily, hoping I wasn’t going to sound like a bitch. She was trying; I knew and appreciated the effort she was putting in. “That video….” I tried to remember the words I was capable of, but all I could do was settle for a shake of my head. Then, just to make sure she really got my point, I shook my head really quickly, too adamantly maybe. “Maybe not the best idea, don’t you think?”
Gardner didn’t even bother to try and mute his laugh. He just went for it.
“It will be fine. I won’t let them use any of the parts you’re worried about. I promise.”
Taking my silence for exactly what it was—wariness and distrust—Sheena said, “I promise, Sal. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Trust her? I had this rule about trusting people until they gave me a reason not to. When you played soccer with strangers on a regular basis, leaving your health and safety in the hands of others out of need, being too cynical didn’t work for anyone. Was it a little intimidating? Yes. But in the words of my sister, “you only live once.”
“All right,” I ground out, though some part of my consciousness called me an idiot for not fighting harder.
The smile she gave me in response was wide and bright. I smiled back at her.Idiot,idiot,idiot.
“Mr. Kulti, are you on board too?” the nice woman asked.
Eventually he nodded. His lightly tanned face didn’t exactly look like he was jumping for joy, but he didn’t tell her to fuck off like Iwould have bet my life on him doing years ago. I wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or not.
“We’ll get this all sorted out in no time, Sal. No need to worry,” Sheena added.
What she didn’t know was that telling me not to worry was like telling me not to breathe.
I HAD BEEN asleep for at least an hour when my phone rang.
For a couple of rings, I considered not answering it. Because, really? Who the hell would be calling at almost midnight during the week? It was pretty common knowledge that I had an early bedtime.
Marc’s name flashed across the screen, and I narrowed my sleepy eyes. He wasn’t usually a drunk-dialer, so what if it was an emergency?
“Salamander?” This man that was more my friend than my boss spoke. We’d grown up together. He’d been friends with Eric for as long as I could remember and somehow transitioned from being his friend to being a brother figure and a great friend to me. He’d moved to Houston to get his doctorate, and once I moved too, he’d said, “Why don’t we start our own business?” For two people with insane schedules and my degree and experience to help us out, it worked as an easy way to make our own money and not have a boss who didn’t understand we had other things that came first.
I yawned. “Hey, everything all right?” I answered tentatively.
“Salami,” he hissed, sounding just a little drunk while the sound of loud voices filled the background, making it really hard to hear what he was saying.
“Hey, it’s me. What’s going on?”
There were more sounds in the background, people laughing and what might have been glasses clinking together. “I don’t know what to do.”
Immediately I sat up in bed and threw my legs over the edge.Marc didn’t know what to do? My gut said he wasn’t calling me for shits and giggles. “It’s all right. Are you okay? What do you need?”
“Oh? Me? I’m good. Sorry. I was actually calling because… hold on one sec, I’m trying to get into the bathroom real quick….” All of a sudden the background noise cut out completely and my friend’s voice became clear over the line. “Hey, he’s here.”
Rubbing at my eyes with the back of my hand, I yawned. “Who’s where?” Then it hit me. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He had class at eight in the morning.
“My professor isn’t coming in.”
“Okay….”
“I’m at that bar by my house. You know which one I’m talking about?” He didn’t give me a chance to respond, but I knew where he was referring to. We’d gone there together a few times in the offseason. Marc continued, “Kulti’s here. Been here. The bartender cut him off a while ago, but I think he’s asleep. The bartender’s been asking if anyone knows him, but I guess I’m the only one.”
He breathed loud, continuing. “This is some shit, Sal. I thought about taking a picture of him to sell it, but that’s kinda fucked up. Imagine if anybody recognized him.”
I could imagine, and I cringed a little. The WPL’s focus on morals and family values flashed through my head. If it got out our brand-new superstar of an assistant coach was passed out drunk at a bar before the season even started... it’d be a disaster.
“I figured you’d know what I should do,” Marc finally ended.
Jeez. What a mess. A small part of me didn’t want to get involved. He wasn’t my friend, and it wasn’t like he’d been particularly friendly or kind in any way. But the point was he was a member of my team. That part of me that battled between being a dick and saying he wasn’t my problem lost to the bigger part of me that made me do the right thing. My mom would be horrified if I was an asshole. I wouldn’t want to give her another reason to be disappointed in me.
