“You know that we wouldn’t usually do this on a game day, Seb, but time really is of the essence here.”
I nod at Tony, who’s seated across the table from me, flanked by Roger the lawyer and Dennis Lieberman, the Cyclones GM. Up on the wall-mounted TV to our left is a slightly blurry image of Mike, who’s been conferenced in for the meeting.
I shift uncomfortably in the plush, entirely comfortable leather chair I’m currently sitting in, and eye the papers on the table in front of me.
Otherwise known as the contract of my dreams.
Apparently, the “other option” Roger was talking about yesterday was a five-year agreement with the Cyclones with a salary increase and a larger bonus, as well as both a no-trade clause and a new work visa for the duration of the agreement—and the promise of a team pursuing immigration matters of a permanent nature for me during this time, which wasn’t even on the table before. With the new year coming up in just two days, there will be a whole new quota available for special interest visas, and Roger is confident that we can get one expedited.
I should only have to miss a couple of games in January, max, while the paperwork processes. And with our team performance of late, Tony’s not too concerned about a couple of potential losses affecting our chances at getting into the playoffs.
And I say “potential” because I know the team is capable of winning without me. I realize now that I’m one piece of the unit as a whole. And I’m glad of it. There’s no need to be a hero… I want to win as a part of the team I love.
But perhaps best of all, I’d be applying for my green card independently. Which means that Maddie would no longer have to go through the arduous interview process with USCIS.
Or is that perhaps worst of all…?
Of course I want to stay with her, no matter what, and whatever way I end up filing my paperwork won’t affect that… but I don’t know how Maddie would feel about my signing this contract without talking to her. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable situation that can be avoided, of course, but we’ve made it clear from the start that we’re doing this together. I don’t want it to appear like I walked away from something that we started because a better offer came along.
Like that jerk Adam did to her.
A throat clears, and I look up to see Coach watching me. I realize I’ve been spacing out like crazy.
“I’m honored,” I start hesitantly. “And I want to make it clear, first and foremost, that playing for the Cyclones is my priority.”
“But?” Tony prompts gruffly, his gray eyes appraising me slowly.
“It’s a great offer, Slater…” Mike’s tinny drawl cuts in over the speakers before I can say anything.
The undertones in my agent’s statement are clear as day: just sign the damn thing, Slater.
But I can’t say yes. Or no.
Not until I talk to Maddie.
Tony seems to sense my hesitation, because he claps his hands, all brusque and coach-like all of a sudden. “Look, you’ve got a game to get ready for tonight, so why don’t you sleep on it. Think it over. We’ll get a copy couriered to your apartment so you can read it through again, go through the fine print with your agent, if you must.”
“But remember, Slater,” Dennis Lieberman cuts in, his dark eyes shrewd. “This offer isn’t going to be around forever. In fact, with a new year a couple of days away, I’d say we’re looking at a pretty imminent expiry date on this.”
“I understand.”
“And bear in mind, our next offer might not be so generous.”
“Sleep on it,” Torres says again, firmly this time, as he casts a side glance at Lieberman. “We’ll be expecting your answer imminently.”
“Thank you, Coach.” I meet his eyes, trying my hardest to convey my genuine gratitude. Communicate that he isn’t looking at the same player who put his own aspirations before the team’s with his initial contract last year. I’ve matured, and this hesitation is for different reasons that have pretty much nothing to do with me and everything to do with a beautiful green-eyed girl who has captured my heart.
I think he gets at least some of this, because as we file out of the room, he stops me. Claps a meaty hand on my shoulder. “Go with your gut, kid. That way, no matter what you choose, it can’t be the wrong decision.”
