by Rebel Hart
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I walked him back over to the employee door and let him out. Before the door closed fully, he looked back over his shoulder at me.
“Good luck, Quinn. I’ll be rooting for you,” he said, and he left.
10
Zeke
I was glad for a day off to take my mind off of the nonsense of the past couple of weeks. It didn’t matter how much I tried to put it behind me, every time I thought about Quinn or the battle against the Black Widows, I got angry all over again. I was only able to flip out on a call with my brother, Daniel, twice before he told me to come over for dinner and not to mention it, or else he’d hit me. And he would, and it would hurt, so I had every intention of keeping my mouth shut on the matter.
I walked into his apartment and was immediately smacked in the face with a melody of delightful smells—spices, searing meat, fresh vegetables, something sweet. Daniel was a world-class chef. He could go anywhere if he wanted. He could probably hit it big in a tourist city like New York or Los Angeles, but he was never able to get out of Idaho. He claimed it was because he liked living near me, but I knew the truth. He had fallen in love with someone he met back in high school. He stayed, hoping to one day reunite.
“Holy shit, it smells good in here.”
“Hey!” Daniel called from the kitchen. He walked out of the kitchen in his apron reading, “Kiss the cook.” It looked hilarious over his designer-ripped black jeans and black button-up. With his black hair and black eyes, he almost looked like a modern version of the grim reaper. “What’s up?” He held out a hand, and I did the cliche bro clap and shoulder bump.
“Well, certainly not things that I won’t mention because I don’t want to get hit,” I said with a grin, and he smiled.
“Good.” He pointed toward his living room, which was to the right of his apartment door. “There’s already a beer on the table. Make yourself comfortable. Dinner’s almost done.”
Daniel was my best friend. We were two of five brothers in my family and were the youngest two, with Daniel being about a year and a half older than me. All through school and into our adult lives, our preference was to hang out with one another. We had similar interests, ideals, and personality types, so we rarely argued. I’d been through more than one problem that he had helped me with, and my friendly-at-best relationship with my parents was because of the way they treated him when he made a passing mention to my parents about not knowing if his eventual life partner would be female. Homosexuality is not accepted in Judaism. Daniel was quick to tell them that he wasn’t gay, he just didn’t feel like he was entirely straight, but anything other than a woman was a problem for them.
Fortunately, my parents’ commitment to their children was greater than that to their faith, but the way it forced me, Daniel, and our older brother Uri away from the religion created additional problems. Our oldest brother, Adam, wouldn’t even speak to us. We got through it together, though. We always had each other, and that would never change.
I sat down in the living room, grabbed one of the beers, and took a deep breath. I was glad to kick back some. I didn’t do it often. I grabbed the remote off the coffee table and clicked on the television. It was sitting on a news channel, and I was just about to flip it off when something caught my attention—a clip of my game against the Widows.
“What the hell?” I turned the volume up on the TV and leaned in.
“Despite the Black Widows losing in their game against the Vipers, their official Twitter account announced that they are on the road to semi-pro status. The team’s captain, Quinn Dallen, is currently working with Commissioner Wright Johnson to get semi-pro games scheduled.”
“What?” I barked. “That snake!” My blood was boiling as whatever camera had captured the footage zoomed in on Quinn running with the ball.
“Hey!” Daniel walked into the living room and turned off the TV. “I said no!”
“Stop, Danny! This is important.” I used the remote to click the television back on, and Wright was on the screen with that same car-salesman look on his face. “This guy met with me yesterday and told me he was in agreement that the Widows should withdraw.” I picked up my phone and unlocked it. “I’ve got a tweet of my own. Let’s see her get around her fans knowing she’s a turncoat.”
Daniel turned to face the screen. “He thought they should stand down? That doesn’t seem to be his opinion now.”
“The Black Widows are a resilient team,” Wright saidon the TV. “I was impressed with what I saw yesterday. Quinn Dallen is an astounding captain, and I’m certain that under her leadership, they will have no problem achieving their semi-pro dreams!”
“He called her a child at the bar,” I growled. I started to Tweet, but Daniel snatched my phone out of my hand. “Hey, give that back.”
“You can’t. Look.” He pointed at the screen, and the Vipers logo was now splashed next to Wright’s face.
“I’ll admit, I was surprised myself when the Vipers agreed to a rematch, but that just goes to show you that this rivalry is already well underway. The Widows will need to win four of the five semi-pro games Quinn and I have lined up, the last of which will be against the Vipers in a showdown rematch. It’ll be televised, but tickets are already on sale for those who want to see this match live in action.”
“If they make it that far,” the reporter quipped.
Wright’s grin got wider. “They will.”
“Shit.” I held out my phone, and Daniel raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m not gonna tweet anything. I need to call my coach.”
Daniel gave me a warning glance before handing my phone over and walking back toward the kitchen. I quickly navigated to Tyler’s number and dialed it.
“I swear, I had no idea,” Tyler said as soon as the line picked up. “He never talked to me. Did he talk to you? Some of the guys said they saw you talking to him.”
I let out an angry sigh as I realized I’d been set up. “We talked, but he didn’t mention any of that.”
“Someone in the bar had to overhear you talking about it, right?”
I set down the beer bottle in my hand, afraid I was going to shatter it under my tightening grip. “He had the bar cleared out. Said I shouldn’t be enjoying a beer with laymen.”
“Jesus, Zeke. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to talk business alone?”
“I didn’t think we were talking business!” I stood up and started to pace the room. “All he said was that he’d seen the game and wanted to buy me a congratulatory beer.”
“You didn’t talk about the game at all?”
“We talked about it, but only about why we would be playing against them in the first place. He asked if someone on the team had cancer.” I shuddered as the wrath inside me threatened to bolt out and smash something. “Fuck! He played me!”
“Don’t talk to him alone anymore. We’re fucked enough as it is.”
“Yeah,” I replied.
“And don’t you fucking call me to complain, either. I have to do damage control, so I’m having PR tweet out that we’re excited about the rematch.”
My open hand balled into a fist. “Fine.”
Tyler sighed. “Well, try to enjoy the rest of your weekend. We’ll deal with this clusterfuck on Monday.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t say goodbye. I just hung up. I considered myself a relatively intelligent person, so how could I not see that Wright was gassing me up?
“Come eat.” Daniel walked back out of the kitchen and set a pair of plates down on the dining room table. He looked over at me, saw I wasn’t moving, and sighed. “If you come to the table, I’ll lift the ban so that you can get it all out.”
It was enough of a motivator. I walked over into the dining room and took my seat behind one of the plates. In front of me sat a large steak with a side of potatoes and charred vegetables. It was simple as far as Daniel was concerned, but I knew without tasting it that it was perfectly cooked. I lifted my fork and knife and started t
o cut into the steak, so Daniel didn’t breach the topic. He walked into the living room and grabbed my beer. He set it down in front of my plate and then sat behind the other plate with a beer of his own. I took a few bites of my food, and in spite of its deliciousness, it did little to still the angry beating of my heart. I didn’t like being fooled.
“He tricked me,” I grumbled. “And she backed out on her deal.”
“Poor you,” Daniel replied between bites, and my gaze shot up to him. He rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t give me that look. You do this every time. You expect everyone in the world to have your best interests in mind at all times. I blame you. Maybe it’s your being the youngest.”
I held out my fork in irritation. “Did you want me to get on the ground so you can kick me, too?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…it’s the oddest form of trusting people too much. Humans are naturally selfish and protect their own interests.” He pointed at the TV. “It’s clear that guy is just worried about making a buck off this rivalry he’s blowing up, and you put way too much faith in this woman, who I’d like to point out you haven’t stopped talking about once since you met her.”
I hunched my brow. “What does that mean?”
He rolled his eyes. “Nothing. Just, the point is, everyone is looking out for themselves. You should try it.”
“You’re saying it’s a bad thing that I expect people to do what’s right?” I asked, confused.
That question softened Daniel a bit. “No. That’s a wonderful thing, but unfortunately, you live in a world that will eat virtues like that alive. It’s fine that you expect the best from people, but you have to practice a little bit of discernment. It’s better to assume the worst and be proven wrong than to assume the best and be proven wrong.”
“I guess.” I stabbed my fork into a piece of my steak. “I just don’t want to be that jaded.”
“How you ever made it to twenty-three without being jaded by this world is anyone’s guess.” He took a few more bites of his potatoes before looking up again. “I just don’t like seeing you so frustrated.”
“I thought Wright wanted to help me, okay? He said it seemed like a shame I was shackled down by the semi-pros.”
“Sounds more like a threat than a compliment to me.” I tilted my head to the side in confusion, so he continued. “He wanted you to know he had that power. He had every intention of pulling this switcheroo on you, so he made sure to mention that he had the power to do something about your pro status so that you knew he was just as capable of giving it to you as he was of taking it away.”
My head was starting to pound. “I didn’t even think about it like that.”
“Jaded may suck, but it breaks any rose-colored glasses, that’s for certain.” Daniel scooted my beer a little closer to me. “Sorry, Zeke.” He looked over my shoulder at the TV. “Maybe he played her, too.”
I looked over, and Quinn was standing on the screen, smiling blindly as an interviewer talked with her about her new opportunity.
“Maybe,” I agreed.
It didn’t change anything for me. If I didn’t hate her before, I certainly did now. Anyone who made a mockery of my sport and couldn’t be trusted—to me, that person was lower than dirt.
11
Quinn
Standing on the fields of Mont High School felt like being transported back in time in the best way. I stared out over the field, now awash with players locked in a heated game, and smiled. It had been almost seven years since I first stormed out onto that field and demanded that I be allowed to try out for the team. Several of the players laughed at me and told me to try out for the girls’ powderpuff flag football team that only played amongst themselves. I had no problem with those girls, but they weren’t playing the kind of football I wanted to play. I wanted the nitty-gritty. I wanted to feel the weight of someone else toppling beneath me when I crashed into them. I wanted that stinging pain that came with being barreled down myself, the kind that hung on long after the final whistle and reminded me that I still had work to do. I wanted the men’s team, and I wouldn’t settle for less.
I had stomped onto the field with a chip on my shoulder and a full speech prepared. I had done the research. I had looked at Mont High’s entire football history. I was ready. I marched right up to the coach, looked him in his eyes, and said, “You need to let me try out for this team.”
It almost shocked me more when he simply said, “Okay,” than it would have if he had complained. Then, he said something that changed my life. “Don’t expect special treatment.”
It sent chills racing over my skin and down my spine. No one had ever said something like that to me before, not even my dad. That was exactly what I had been fighting for. I didn’t want special treatment. I wanted someone to look at me and give me an opportunity to prove myself, without handicaps or judgment. I ran the same drills as everyone else, and when I took one of his largest guys down to the turf, I looked up and saw the coach had a small smile on his face. It wasn’t a pitying one or one like he was surprised at what I had accomplished. It was the smile of someone who was inspired by what they saw. I promised myself that for as long as I played football, I wanted to inspire people in that same way, and I did for the next three years.
When the final whistle blew, I glanced over at the clock and scoreboard. The game had ended thirty-six to twenty-seven in Mont’s favor. I looked over the fence that kept those in the front row of the bleachers from falling over, and the coach was there, high-fiving and slapping the helmets of his team as they filed off. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the smack take me back. I remembered the feeling vividly. I always felt so accomplished. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I saw it again.
I stood up off the bleachers and walked down onto the field. A couple of security guards stood around the field, but none of them paid me much mind as I strolled past the barrier separating spectators from the players and coaches. I sifted through a few of the players and walked over until I could tilt my head and smile at the coach.
“Hey there, stranger.”
The coach looked up, and when he saw me, he got the biggest grin on his face. “My girl!”
“What’s going on, Coach?” I asked Coach Cal Carter, Trip C, as some liked to call him. He had dark skin and black hair done in shoulder-length microbraids. His green eyes glowed off his face and shined nearly as brightly as the smile he flashed me. “Still bringing in Mont High victories, I see.”
“Yeah, but they’re not as much fun without my Bulldallen,” he responded, and I jumped up and down excitedly at hearing my old high school nickname.
He dropped what he had in his hands, and I threw my arms around him in a huge hug. When he stepped back, he put his hands on his hips. “I heard about you on the news. Semi-pro, huh? You leave Ol’ Coach Cal, and suddenly you’re doing big things.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did big things here.”
“That’s true, you did.” He swatted my arm. “What’s goin’ on, girl? Do you have anything after this, or can we go to Hattie’s?”
“Um, yes, please,” I laughed.
Hattie’s was Coach’s favorite restaurant. He shoveled us there any time we went to eat as a team. Eventually, most of the team got sick of it, but I never got tired of watching him light up when we walked through the door. I would later learn he was going for one of the waitresses, who he ended up marrying, but somewhere in there, he started to love the food, too.
“Meet you there?” I asked.
“See you in twenty.” He clapped his hands. “All right, Bucks, let’s wrap this up. I’ve got a date!”
I giggled and couldn’t help but blush. Cal was happily married and about ten years my senior, but he was too good looking not to be flattered by when a simple meal was referred to as a date. I walked back off the field and out into the parking lot. I’d taken my brother’s car for the trip because Idaho was deep into autumn temperatures and was ge
tting pretty chilly at night. Hattie’s wasn’t a far drive, and within ten minutes, I was in a booth, browsing the same menu that hadn’t changed in years and warming myself up over a cup of hot cocoa.
“Hey, Cal!” I heard some of the waitresses chorus after another ten minutes or so.
“What’s goin’ on, ladies?” I looked up, and Cal was off his feet, hanging over the bar that wrapped around the kitchen. “My baby back there?”
“I am.” A woman walked out of the kitchen in a simple blouse and skirt. Melanie was a waitress at the family-owned diner when I was in high school, but I heard she was the general manager now. She had long brown hair and light brown skin. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss, then swatted him on the head. “Get off my counter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cal backed off and then pointed over toward the booth I was sitting in. Melanie looked over, and her face lit up.
“Quinn!”
“Hey, Mel!” I smiled and waved. “Long time, no see.” Melanie walked around the bar and out, and I slid out of the booth to meet her with a hug. “Glad to see you’re still keeping the fries crispy around here.”
She let out a barking laugh. “I don’t go anywhere near the kitchen now. Good to see you.”
“I’m gonna borrow Coach for a bit if that’s okay?”
She nodded. “Of course. Take him for as long as you want. I need a break.” I giggled, but Cal pouted. Melanie rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop, you know I love you.”
He smiled like a puppy who’d just been told he was a good boy. Melanie walked away, and Cal and I settled in the booth. We gave a waitress our orders, and then Cal folded his fingers into each other on top of the table.
“All right, so to what do I owe this honor? Did you just miss your coach?”
“Well, I did, but I actually have kind of a huge favor to ask of you.”
Cal shrugged. “Oh, anything, Quinn.”