Oh, my fucking God. Gabe was serious.
“Nah,” I snorted.
He lifted a single eyebrow, another infamous look that meant he was deadly serious. My entire body tensed. “There are fewer shifters in Tampa Bay.”
“That means I’ll be big news. Not what I want.”
Coach Rufini held a hard glare. “Not necessarily. They don’t really understand how it’s possible. It’ll be your chance to blend in.” His words weren’t of encouragement but a full-scale push.
“What’s the offer? Nine?” I grumbled out the questions with attitude.
Not that I was a greedy son of a bitch, but after living like a pauper for a very long time, I was eager to make a few changes. If I was forced into a shitty trade like this, I might as well get everything I wanted.
Once again, the three men silently conversed with each other. I’d walked into the three men who controlled my career already in an animated conversation.
That they’d abruptly stopped the moment I’d walked in.
“Six hundred.” Gabe was none too happy providing me with the contract number.
I burst into laughter. “I didn’t know you were a comedian.”
“I’m not joking.” His expression was dead serious.
“For one year? What happened to the typical million to start?” I shrank back, my skin clammy. This wasn’t possible. Unless you were being tossed to the bottom of the barrel, there was a financial protocol everyone followed.
“You need to prove yourself. Again.” Assistant Coach Scanlon had never been a fan, which meant today he was positively gloating. “Which might take an act of God to do.”
I resisted lashing out. “Three-year contract?” While lower than I’d expected, the money was certainly much more than I’d made the last couple of years.
“Hell, no. A one-year contract, to be renegotiated if all goes well.” Gabe was matter of fact, which meant there’d been more conversations about the offer, very difficult conversations.
What the hell was going on? I tried to shove aside the crap from theToday Show. Whatever this deal was, it had been in the works for days if not weeks, so the smoking gun had nothing to do with the decision. What other reason?
Sure, I had a bad boy reputation, but I was nowhere near as bad as a few of the dudes in the league. This had to be about my status as a werewolf. The word grated on my nerves more than if I’d been called a serial killer. I wasn’t a goddamn werewolf!
I might as well toss everything out. There was no time like the present.
“Is the shitty term because I’m almost twenty-four? That I’m a playboy? Or because I’m a shifter?” The eighteen- to twenty-one-year-olds received the three-year terms. In some coaches’ minds, I was already an old man for the sport. However, I could tell by their smug looks that was the least of my problems. “Just another wave of discrimination. Right? I’m a shifter so I’m an automatic danger to the team and the fans. Goddamn it! That isn’t acceptable.” I pounded my fist on the coach’s desk to make a solid point.
Gabe cringed as if I’d punched someone.
They certainly knew the cause and effect of my bouts of anger.
If the team was really using age as a factor in the short contract, that was all bullshit. I was in excellent shape. The best of my life and certainly a hell of a lot better than the other members of my team and theirs too. Maybe I should start some additional rumors about my attributes. I was nine feet tall. I could fly like Superman. I could leap tall buildings. Without breaking a sweat.
And sex.
Well, with two cocks, I could certainly go all night.
Shifters had heard it all.
“Theshittycontract term is because you’re a hothead with questionable ethics. Plus, you have anger management issues.” Coach Rufini kept his voice low, which was odd for him. He was the real hothead of the team, always yelling from the sidelines.
I’d heard enough about my bouts of rage to last me a lifetime. Weren’t wolves supposed to be hot-blooded?
I wanted to argue with him, but what was the point? I used manifested anger as a tool when it suited me.
“And let me guess, you’re even happier with the possibility of me leaving with the news that broke this morning. Right?” I threw out the question, laughing as soon as I did. I could tell by their faces I was dead on. “You do realize that crap is bullshit. Right?”
