“Because of Bossy,” I confirmed. “How’d today go?”
My father had gotten out of the hospital only to have his first court appearance for his crimes—the ones involving him ordering a hit on his daughter as well as several other counts of crimes against children.
I’d decided that I’d rather not go, but Weaver hadn’t had the same inclination.
He’d gone, as well as participated in the trial.
I’d have to appear in the full trial at some point, but that wouldn’t be for a while.
But when I did have to show, I would tell all.
And I wouldn’t hold back a single thing.
Because sick, disgusting people like that didn’t deserve to breathe free air.
“They denied him bail due to the judge believing him a flight risk.”
“Good.”
“Your mother, however, was awarded bail. As well as Andrews. Audrey was also denied bail.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m not too happy with Andrews getting bail, or my mother for that matter. But Audrey and my father…I’m happy about that.”
“I’m not happy that you’re working here with our impressionable young girls, but here we are.”
Both of us turned to see the one mom that I despised staring at us with no ounce of remorse for listening in on our conversation.
The problem with this mother was that her daughter was an absolute sweetheart. That girl, Fray, was a mediocre at best soccer player, but was just happy to be on the team and be with her friends. It’d been three whole years of her not playing all that much because she didn’t have the skill set to compete against other soccer players her age. When we were winning at least three to nothing, I put her in. She got playing time. Just not as much as her mother would like.
Her mother thought Fray was the best soccer player on the field and deserved more playing time than she got. And took it out on me every time she saw me, letting me know that she didn’t agree with my coaching style.
She was probably the leader of the “get Coach E fired” brigade.
“Hello, Mrs. Gatsby.”
Mrs. Gatsby was the talk of the town, and not for a good reason.
Her husband had been cheating on her with any woman who looked his way. He was rich, powerful, and very uninterested in his wife. His kid, on the other hand? He loved his kid and made it to every soccer game despite her not playing.
He was also very blunt with Mrs. Gatsby about Fray’s status on the team.
As an ex-professional soccer player himself, he knew what it took.
And he knew his daughter didn’t have it.
Mrs. Gatsby sniffed at me and turned up her nose, giving me the cold shoulder.
Weaver’s hand tightened on my arm, not painfully, but enough that I could tell he was angered.
“Coach E!”
I looked to find three of my seniors, including Fray, walking our way along with Bossy.
“Hey, girls.” I smiled.
“Is this your boyfriend?”
I looked up at Weaver, studying his strong jaw, covered in a couple days’ worth of beard stubble. His blue-gray eyes that changed colors depending on the lighting. His chocolate-brown hair and his perfectly plump lips.
