Right. I was angry, holding a grudge. Making myenemyrivalteammate’s life as uncomfortable as possible.
“Lee, I was hoping we could talk.”
“I feel like we’ve already done a lot of that today.”
“I know, but we’ve kinda been…” She waved her arms around. “Surrounded non-stop?”
“I would rather eat a denim jacket than talk to you alone, Nola.” I huffed.
“I know, and I know that’s my fault, I just want to clear the air.”
I turned my head to get Marcello in my peripheral. He was only down to one camera hand as he texted with the other, but I couldn’t tell if the camera was recording or not.
“I’ll think about it when we’re free of an audience.” I nodded my head to his general position. Nola turned her head to confirm then nodded.
“Right.”
We made it to the end of the hallway and back out to our trucks then Nina blocked the door.
“Okay! I’ll lead y’all over to org housing right over the bridge in Wynwood,” Nina started.
“We?” Nola asked.
“Not to be rude, but aren’t you the head of marketing?”Damn I missed Perry.“Why would you be giving us a tour?”
I didn’t know if Nina was used to people who asked questions. Maybe most women were just grateful to be playing in general—let alone for a reactivated team—but between Nola and I,andour sibling/best friend agents, no one was making this easy for Nina. This was a shit position, but something told me Nina would also rather be somewhere else, and not the bearer of bad news.
I made a mental note to send her a bottle of wine to her office. Only because I kind of felt bad.
Her grimace pulled at the skin that wouldn’t move on her face, and her sweat stains seemingly grew in size.
“I promise, this is the last surprise!” Nina yelled then pivoted as the rest of the group pestered her back with questions.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bee
Four years ago
Draft Night
“Okay, remind me of the rules again?” My dad mumbled as I guided him to our designated table.
I laughed and rolled my eyes because he meant well, I just hated that I was explaining the most important night of my life for, like, the fifty-millionth time. I smoothed my hands over the plum blazer dress my mom had designed and created, the lapels bedazzled in a matching jewel tone while I teetered in my sister’s borrowed heels.
“We’re going to sit pretty while the Commissioner goes team by team to read out what teams drafted who. It’s really not that much different from every other sport,” I stated with a strained smile.
What I actually wanted to say was that it wasexactlylike every other sport my dad watched. There was something about basketball that hit his blindspot.
No matter that I’d been playing since I was ten.
Even with the over explanation, I was glad it was my dad tonight who was supporting me. Minus the part where my mom couldn’t come if she'd tried. If I had a hard time keeping my thoughts to myself, you could see everything on my mom’s face. She didn’t have a resting bitch face, it was a resting judgement face. Her presence in my outfit was enough. It was the opening night of the community’s theater version ofLegally Blonde, and her own designs had made it into the final costumes for the show too.
I was glad this was a ticketed invite with a singular plus one.
I was not in the mood to see how many of my siblings would pick her night over mine.
At that thought, my phone dinged with a text message custom to my little sister Celeste.
