My goal: ripping him a new asshole without getting in trouble.
I took my mental big girl socks off and threw them on the floor. Fuck this motherfucker. If I would have had earrings on, I’d be taking those off and handing them to Harlow, too.
My shaking arms and pounding heart egged me on. I found him.
He was just there, minding his own business looking over some notes in a binder. Tall and solemn and completely oblivious to the fact that he’d hurt the most important man in my life’s feelings.
I didn’t think or bother to look around me to check and see who the potential audience was going to be because I didn’t give a single shit.
Don’t talk outright crap to him.
Don’t call him a curse word or something else that might get you into trouble.
In that moment, I didn’t give a crap who this man was or who he had been. He was just some asshole with an attitude problem that had done the unthinkable. It was one thing to be an ass to me or my teammates. But he’d hurt mypapi’sfeelings, and that shit just didn’t fly.
“Hey,” I snapped the minute I was close enough. He didn’t look up.
“Hey, you German bratwurst.” Did that just come out of my mouth?
When the German bratwurst in question looked up, I figured out I’d actually said that out loud. Well, I guess I could have said something a lot worse, and it wasn’t like I could back out at that point.
“You’re talking to me?” he asked.
I focused on how my forearms were tensed, on the anger that had flamed to life in my chest, and I let the words out. “Yes you. Maybe you don’t give a crap about helping the team out, and that’s fine. I get it, big man. Want to talk shit to us,when you know you’re in no position to say anything about what people should and shouldn’t be doing?” I shot him a look that said I wanted him to remember what exactly I’d done for him.
Hypocritical ass.
“We’ll all get over you being rude with us, trust me. I won’t be losing any sleep over you, but we don’t treat our fans like crap here. I’m not sure what it was like for you back where you played, but here, we’re grateful and we treat everyone kindly. It doesn’t matter ifsomeone asks you for an autograph or to sign their ass cheek, you do it with a smile.
“And you especially aren’t allowed to be an asshole to my dad. He thought you were the greatest thing since frozen meals. He’s one of your biggest fans, and you’re going to be rude to him? Jesus Christ. Everyone knows you were a terror to play against, but I didn’t think you were mean to people that have been supportive of your career.”
Someone was panting, and I was pretty sure it was me. “All he wanted to do was meet you and, I don’t know, maybe get a picture so he could brag about it to his friends. He’s the best man I know, and he’s been talking about seeing you for weeks. Now my dad left here upset and probably disillusioned, so thank you for that, you German chocolate cake. I hope the next time someone approaches you, you think about how two minutes of your time could make one person’s entire year.”
You fuckingsauerkraut.
Okay, I didn’t say that, but I thought it.
I also thought about flicking him off with both my hands, but I didn’t do that either.
My fingers flexed on their own, and my molars started to grind together as we stared at each other in silence. I’d thought I was done, but when he blinked those eyes that reminded me of playing in New Hampshire once in late fall, I felt my inner thirteen-year-old come to life, the girl who had held this man on a pedestal and thought the world of him.
I felt her come to life and die in a split second. Just that quickly, this version of me who understood that people changed over the years was reborn from the ashes of teenage Sal. The grown-up version of me didn’t give a single fuck about Reiner Kulti. He hadn’t been the one who sat through my practices, my games. He wasn’t the one who stressed about my injuries and teased me through my recuperation periods. I had a list of people that I loved and respected, people that had earned their way into my heart and deserved my loyalty.
Reiner Kulti wasn’t anyone special in the ways that reallymattered. He’d been my inspiration a very long time ago, but he hadn’t been the one to help me make it happen.
“I get that you’re the greatest thing to ever come onto this field,MisterKulti.” Yeah, I said the “mister” as sarcastically as I could. “But to me, my dad is one of the greatest people in the world. And the next person whose feelings you hurt by not caring to meet them is someone else’s dad or brother or mom or sister or daughter or son. So think about that.”
Goddamnfrankfurter.
Luckily, I wasn’t really expecting him to reply and, in the end, it was probably a good thing that he didn’t because I seriously doubted something sincere or apologetic could have come out of such an indifferent apathetic mouth.
Hours later, when I was hauling rocks around on a wheelbarrow and my shoulders were on the verge of sprouting tear ducts because they hurt so much, I couldn’t help but still feel rattled, pissed. If I hadn’t already taken them down almost ten years ago, I would have ripped the Kulti posters off my wall with a scream that would have made Xena proud. No one had stopped me as I grabbed my shit and left. Gardner had just stood there as I passed by him with what I recognized as an impressed look on his face.
So there was that, at least. I couldn’t get kicked off the team if Gardner looked pleased with what I’d said.
At least that’s what I hoped, but either way, I couldn’t find it in me to regret what I had done. If I couldn’t stand up for what I believed in, then I wasn’t the person I strived to be.
I GOT three voice mails that evening while I snuck in a run before meeting up with my parents.
