“I was really sad to hear you ladies lost last night,” the front desk employee said as he handed me a visitor’s pass.
I’d have to give myself a pat on the back later for not even wincing at the reminder. Somehow I managed to shrug, pinning the pass to the bottom of my T-shirt. That damn Pipers and Wreckers mural above the desk taunted me. “Me too.”
“I’m sure y’all will get ‘em next year, don’t you worry about it,” the nice man suggested as I put my bag over my shoulder to go through security and up the elevator.
“Hope so. Thanks,” I told him before giving him another smile and continuing up the stairs.
Really, I did hope the Pipers would win next season. It would be great for them.
All right, I’d be fine if they didn’t, but I wouldn’t be mad if they did.
I’d been doing a lot of thinking since talking to Rey the night before, and even though I wanted to vomit at the insecure point my life was in, I realized I really was doing the best thing for me by leaving the WPL. If it were up to Cordero and the rest of the coaches who hadn’t given me a second thought, I would never play for another Altus Cup.
Or screw it, for a gold medal. Why not?
If I moved, played somewhere else and got my nationality…
Why not?
If I moved. But I wasn’t going to worry or psych myself out too much. Things happened if they were meant to happen and if they didn’t, I’d figure out something else.
What I was doing now was moving on with this stage in my life, and I was surprisingly more than okay with it.
I found the equipment manager’s office halfway down the hall on the Pipers floor. She was inside and looked a little surprised to see me, but she took my things and said she’d see me later. So apparently, the news hadn’t gotten around that I was out.
This was all was totally fine. There was only one other person I’d want to see before I left, and his office was two doors down. It sure as hell wasn’t Cordero either. I had no interest in seeing that miserable man ever again. Plus I wasn’t sure if he was aware Rey had lied about rejoining the team or not, and I didn’t want to hear about it. His part with me was done. The German had already assured me once more that I didn’t have to worry about him. His money gave him a great legal team, so he said.
Legal team. Jesus. That’s what I’d gotten myself into. He didn’t just have a lawyer, but a whole legal team. God.
You only live once, right?
Gardner was in his office with the door open when I stopped by. I knocked twice. He looked only slightly frazzled as he typed away on his keyboard, frowning when he saw it was me. “Sal. Come in,” he waved me forward. “Shut the door.”
I closed the door behind me and took a seat across from him, hands on my knees.
“Where were you last night?” he asked first thing.
“I left right after the game. Sorry. I just wasn’t in the mood,” I explained truthfully, taking in his tired features. “Are you all right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Same old hell as usual from Cordero, it’s nothing I wasn’t expecting. You? Hold on, what are you doing here?”
I gave him a small smile. “I came to drop off my things with the EM, and to tell you bye.”
Gardner leaned forward. “Where are you going?”
This was the whole reason I was here. I really did like Gardner, but I didn’t want to be a blubbering mess. “I’m leaving the team. My contract was bought out a few days ago. As of midnight, I’m a free agent.”
The man, who had coached me for the last four years and ninety-eight percent of the time been fair and understanding, looked like I punched him in the gut. Sure he’d tried to bench me in the semi-final, but I knew that was Cordero’s doing. I wouldn’t forget four years of friendship with Gardner for one moment. “I don’t understand. You had a year left with us. Are you that angry about the semi that you bought your contract out?”
He knew damn well I couldn’t afford to buy my contract out.
“I’m not leaving because of you, G. I swear.” I’d already decided not to tell him about Cordero trying to trade me because really, what was the point? It didn’t matter. “It’s just time for a change of pace. Cordero hates my guts more than ever and half the girls on the team…” The word robot bounced around in my head for a second before I thought of this new opportunity in my life with green-brown eyes. “It hasn’t been easy for a little while. I can’t stay when they don’t respect me.”
“Fuck, Sal.” His hands went to rest flat on his desk. “You’re not kidding?”
“Nope.”
It took him a long time to finally say something else. “Do you know what you’re going to do now?”
I would have loved to have told him I’d already gotten signed with another team. I really would have. The fact was I hadn’t. I had no solid clue what I was doing. “I’m not sure yet, but this isn’t the end. I just wanted to drop by and tell you thank you for everything. Keep in touch. Good luck. I’ve loved working with you, and I think you’re great.” I raised my shoulders up and let them drop. “Promise to email me even if it’s just to complain about the girls?”
Later on I’d realize that Gardner took it about as well as Marc had: plain shitty. That’s how well he took the news. He took it really shitty.
He promised to keep in touch and wished me the best as always. That was the last thing we said to each other before I left his office.
I made ten feet before a feminine voice called out, “Sal!” and Sheena came barreling out of the assistant coach’s office she’d been in a second before.
“Hey, Sheena,” I greeted her.
“Hey, hi. Sorry to come running out, but I wanted to talk to you before you left. You are leaving, right?” I nodded, unsure whether she was talking about leaving the team or leaving the office. “I won’t take your time then, but these pictures popped up last night of you and Mr. Kulti after the game. They aren’t good—“
“I’m sorry, Sheena. I don’t mean to cut you off but,” I gave her a tight grin, “it doesn’t matter. The pictures don’t matter.”
“They look bad, Sal. I know the league, and they’re going to be giving Cordero a call to complain pretty soon if they haven’t already,” she explained. “They’re more than likely going to want a statement from you apologizing—“
Apologizing? I shook my head. “No. I’m not doing it and they can’t make me.”
“But—“
“No.” Dear God, I sounded like Rey. “I’m not going to.” She’d find out soon enough why. In the meantime… “I have a question for you real quick. Whatever happened to that video of the press conference you were going to release? You never said anything to me about it again.”
From her facial expression, it looked like she wanted to keep going on about the pictures of Rey and I, but decided to answer my question instead. “We didn’t release it. Mr. Kulti had final approval and he demanded we shelve it. He said we would be humiliating you and he didn’t want to do that. I thought you knew? He bought the footage from the news stations so no one could do anything with them.”
