She wasn’t very interested in that. “What do you know about Beau Gowan?” she pressed.
“Um, I know that he isn’t very interested in completing any special projects.” And I wasn’t interested in discussing him. “Have you talked to Kiya about her boyfriend?”
“Who, that avocado guy? They broke up.”
It was hard to know if that was true, though. Kiya was obviously unhappy but she wouldn’t talk about it, and even her roommate Taylor didn’t seem to know what was going on. Ronan hadn’t heard anything from Channing, aka her Cado, but he didn’t care much about his friend’s relationship issues at the moment. He was eating, sleeping, and going to the Woodsmen preseason practices, which were his tryout for the team.
Victoria peeked around a little more but finally went across the hall to her own department. I went up to the floor above us to work in Community Relations, where I’d been volunteering my time (for which I was paid as an employee of Special Projects). They were constantly busy, which I really enjoyed. They were also always talking about their desire for feedback and input, unlike how Mr. Gowan ran things.
I had some feedback and input—but mostly I had questions. “Why doesn’t the Woodsmen team promote the Junior Woodsmen?” I asked the woman I was working with. She reported right to the head of the department, so I thought she would know.
“The Juniors?” She thought for a moment. “Oh, you’re asking because of that petition.”
The online petition about the crappy Junior Woodsmen field and facility had made a few waves around the stadium complex when I’d first started working here almost a year ago—which was why Mr. Gowan had originally sent me to the practice facility for the comprehensive survey of the problems. “I guess,” I said. “But it also seems like a missed opportunity.”
“How so?”
I told her my ideas, the things I’d been developing for the last few months. Tickets to the real Woodsmen games at the stadium were expensive, but watching the Junior team was a great way for families to catch some football (if they bundled up well against the cold). It was an entry point to encourage fan support of both teams—was there a chance that Junior Woodsmen merch could be a thing? This department, or maybe Marketing, could also have promoted more interaction with the Junior players, who were basically ignored by everyone in this building and by everyone in our area. The woman who’d been hitting on Ronan at the gym hadn’t been interested because he was a football player, but because he was handsome, tall, built…
Never mind that. “It just seems like an easy way to get the community more involved,” I concluded. The bosses here were always talking about the broader Woodsmen family and outreach, all that stuff.
“That’s interesting,” she told me. She didn’t look out of the window and tap her lip with her fingers like my actual boss did when I spoke, but I got the feeling that the outcome would be the same. She would also ignore what I’d said. We both returned to work and I narrowed my thoughts to the tasks at handrather than letting them drift off to the practice facility where the Woodsmen players (and potential players) were having drills and working out today in front of the press and special invited guests.
Their practice was going to be easier and shorter than usual, because the Woodsmen were heading off to their team trip to Mackinac Island. Organizing that had been a huge logistical challenge—they were treated like kings the whole time and every detail of their travel, accommodations, food, and entertainment had to be perfect. The people trying out, like Ronan and Myles Pham, would sit around here instead of attending because they weren’t yet counted as part of the team.
But tomorrow, they’d find out if that would change. Tomorrow, the Woodsmen would release their official roster for the upcoming season because when the guys returned from the trip, the preseason was officially underway.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked me. She looked concerned and I wondered how I had been looking myself, if the sudden twist of nausea I’d felt in my stomach had left traces of feeling on my face. Usually, I was very good at disguising my emotions.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Great.”
I drove directly over to Ronan’s house after I left the stadium and I let myself in to wait for him. He’d given me a key, since we’d been spending so much time together—it just made more sense that I’d be able to get in so that I could start dinner or wait for him away from the heat. Yes, it had finally gotten nice andwarm up here, but I could appreciate sitting on his couch rather than on the front steps in the sun.
I did start dinner tonight, but my mind wasn’t much on it. When I heard his SUV/car in the driveway, I realized that I had a jar of pickles in one hand and a bag of sugar in the other. I put both of them down and backed away from the stove.
Ronan walked in a moment later, wrapped in bandages that attached bags of ice to different parts of his body. He looked tired and I tried to read his expression for more than that. I was extremely happy when he smiled.
“Man, I’m glad to see you,” he told me.
“Are you?”
“The whole ride home I was thinking, ‘Cate and I will sit on the couch and have a beer, and she’ll give me another motivational speech. Then I’ll make a poster of what she said to sell to the employers who believe that motivational posters make a difference to the schlubs who work for them, and I’ll earn my fortune that way. Screw football, I’ll be the poster guy.’”
“It sounds like a great plan. Do you actually want a beer?”
He did and so did I. We sat on the couch together like he’d pictured and I tried not to wonder about those bags of ice and the injuries that might have been under them.
But he noticed my concern. “I’m fine,” he told me. “This is mostly precautionary. They have a whole team of trainers and all the best equipment for them to use, and their rooms areamazing. No mice the size of…what’s that dog that Eddie’s always talking about?”
“It’s an Affenpinscher. They’re a lot cuter than mice.”
“Ed was there today, watching the practice,” Ronan mentioned. He rested his head against the wall behind the couch. “He’s so damn proud.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah, he’s a good guy.” He drank from his bottle. “I could let him down tomorrow.”
“You mean, Ed will be sad if you don’t make the team? I think he would be sorry but not let down. He would be thrilled to have you back with the Junior Woodsmen. He’ll have mixed emotions either way it goes.”
