good as she was getting from me. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t know that most of us were unable to give her any juicy gossip. No one knew anything about the German, except maybe Grace. Maybe. She was the only one on the team he seemed to ever speak to, but Grace was too professional to ever spill the beans anyway.
We quickly said goodbye to each other and went our own way.
But I couldn’t shake off the annoyance at being asked stuff like that. More than likely, I just couldn’t shake off the fact that they were questions about such a fucking asshole.
I will make you regret it.
Okay, Scarface. Cheese and fucking crackers. Jeez.
I had to tamp down the inner scream that went on inside of me.
Did he have any idea what he’d meant to me when I was younger? Of course he didn’t. But that was beside the point. I was where I was because I thought he hung the moon when I was a kid. Because I thought he was the greatest player ever and I wanted to be him—okay, and be with him, but whatever. I used to get into arguments with people who talked badly about him.
That’s what it was like. Even now, I defended his skills like an objective unbiased player because you couldn’t argue the statistics. He had been amazing and there was nothing emotional behind that statement.
He’d been an incredible player above the layer of assholery he wrapped himself in.
Freaking jackass.
“How’d that go?” Jenny asked with a smile when I sat down next to her.
I didn’t bother to hide how I rolled my eyes. “They asked me if he was single.”
She snorted.
“I should have said, ‘no, I met his life partner a few days ago. He’s great.’” I gave her a little smile as I pulled my things out of my bag. “Maybe one day.”
“Yesterday I had one of them ask me if I thought he was preparing for a comeback. Then, I was getting my mail when my neighbor asked, ‘Hi, Jennifer, do you think you could get me tickets to your next game?’ I don’t even know his name! ” she exclaimed. “The day before that, my aunt asked me if there was any way for her to drop by during practice. She doesn’t even like soccer.”
Jenny wasn’t one to ever complain, so for her to mention it said something.
I settled just for nodding at her. I didn’t trust the words that could potentially come out of my mouth.
“Genevieve told me that her boss said he’d give her a raise if she brought him back something that belonged to you-know-who.”
Not surprising. On the other hand, I was sure that if I gave Marc Kulti’s underwear, he’d probably tell me to take a week off and still pay me my half. “I heard Harlow tell a reporter this morning that she came to play, not talk about her coach.”
We both snorted.
“But what are we going to do? Complain about all of the attention? I already told them about the weird emails I’ve been getting about Eric, and they’re trying to turn everything around to work out positively. Eric told me Kulti was offered some huge deal from a European team, and he turned it down. They aren’t going to want to risk losing him.” I thought of the night at the bar again and his threat, and felt that familiar bolt of frustration streak down my back before I pushed it away. “Oh well.”
She nodded in resignation. “I hope everyone calms down as the season goes on.”
“Me too.”
Chapter Seven
P ractices and life just went on for the next few days.
There’d been at least a couple of reporters by the field every morning. It was usually the same ones for a couple of days before the rotation changed and other people showed up. Gardner led practices with the assistance of the fitness coach and one of the other assistants while the infamous frankfurter did what he always did: a whole bunch of nothing.
Eventually after a couple of days, I stopped giving a shit about the German—I had other things to worry about—and ignoring him became second nature, even when he was right there .
Like the day of the team
We quickly said goodbye to each other and went our own way.
But I couldn’t shake off the annoyance at being asked stuff like that. More than likely, I just couldn’t shake off the fact that they were questions about such a fucking asshole.
I will make you regret it.
Okay, Scarface. Cheese and fucking crackers. Jeez.
I had to tamp down the inner scream that went on inside of me.
Did he have any idea what he’d meant to me when I was younger? Of course he didn’t. But that was beside the point. I was where I was because I thought he hung the moon when I was a kid. Because I thought he was the greatest player ever and I wanted to be him—okay, and be with him, but whatever. I used to get into arguments with people who talked badly about him.
That’s what it was like. Even now, I defended his skills like an objective unbiased player because you couldn’t argue the statistics. He had been amazing and there was nothing emotional behind that statement.
He’d been an incredible player above the layer of assholery he wrapped himself in.
Freaking jackass.
“How’d that go?” Jenny asked with a smile when I sat down next to her.
I didn’t bother to hide how I rolled my eyes. “They asked me if he was single.”
She snorted.
“I should have said, ‘no, I met his life partner a few days ago. He’s great.’” I gave her a little smile as I pulled my things out of my bag. “Maybe one day.”
“Yesterday I had one of them ask me if I thought he was preparing for a comeback. Then, I was getting my mail when my neighbor asked, ‘Hi, Jennifer, do you think you could get me tickets to your next game?’ I don’t even know his name! ” she exclaimed. “The day before that, my aunt asked me if there was any way for her to drop by during practice. She doesn’t even like soccer.”
Jenny wasn’t one to ever complain, so for her to mention it said something.
I settled just for nodding at her. I didn’t trust the words that could potentially come out of my mouth.
“Genevieve told me that her boss said he’d give her a raise if she brought him back something that belonged to you-know-who.”
Not surprising. On the other hand, I was sure that if I gave Marc Kulti’s underwear, he’d probably tell me to take a week off and still pay me my half. “I heard Harlow tell a reporter this morning that she came to play, not talk about her coach.”
We both snorted.
“But what are we going to do? Complain about all of the attention? I already told them about the weird emails I’ve been getting about Eric, and they’re trying to turn everything around to work out positively. Eric told me Kulti was offered some huge deal from a European team, and he turned it down. They aren’t going to want to risk losing him.” I thought of the night at the bar again and his threat, and felt that familiar bolt of frustration streak down my back before I pushed it away. “Oh well.”
She nodded in resignation. “I hope everyone calms down as the season goes on.”
“Me too.”
Chapter Seven
P ractices and life just went on for the next few days.
There’d been at least a couple of reporters by the field every morning. It was usually the same ones for a couple of days before the rotation changed and other people showed up. Gardner led practices with the assistance of the fitness coach and one of the other assistants while the infamous frankfurter did what he always did: a whole bunch of nothing.
Eventually after a couple of days, I stopped giving a shit about the German—I had other things to worry about—and ignoring him became second nature, even when he was right there .
Like the day of the team
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