Neela reached for a pen. She checked the WILL ATTEND box and inserted the response card quickly into the stamped envelope.
One day in purgatory won’t kill me.
Family obligations now out of the way, she gasped when she saw the clock: ten minutes before she had to leave the flat to get to work on time. It was the usual midweek break from training, but Wednesdays were her longest days at the art store.
After signing with RugNZ, she’d had the option to quit working. The precious contract—still all too rare for those in her profession—would ensure she had a decent living wage. However, she was well aware of how fleeting financial stability could be for a professional athlete. Plus, she still had a couple thousand dollars more to go before her debt to Kyle was finally paid.
A shiver went through her body. At least he stayed away while the checks kept coming. Once a month, she sent a significant part of her salary to a P.O. box in Auckland. She was more than halfway to repaying the debt. Whatever it took to keep him away.
Or so she had hoped.
She thought she’d seen him at one of her games. After the final whistle blew, she’d searched the crowds, but she hadn’t found him among the scattered groups of strangers.
Maybe it was never him, but she was looking over her shoulder more often these days. She’d caught herself scanning the stands before her last match, wondering with nervous anticipation if her gaze would settle on a man whose face she had once memorized because she was in love.
The same face now haunted her, and she hated him for that.
She grabbed her backpack and helmet before running out of the building to her parked motorcycle. The traffic gods were good to her as she made it to the art shop in record time.
Before entering, she took a minute to admire the new window display. A collection of artworks in various media, sharing a similar color palette, was creatively curated and hung. Neela smiled when she spotted the small painting of a vase full of sunflowers in the corner. It was that same painting that had first drawn her into the “Karen’s Art Shop” a year ago. Mum had something similar hanging in her kitchen.
Is it still there? Or did Laura replace it?
Dismissing the questions, she tapped on the glass door. A head popped up from behind a table, followed by a wave.
“Good morning!” Karen Liu said as she opened the door, dressed in her signature red smock covering her black top and pants. She locked the door again after Neela came in. “I’ve got six people booked this morning to try out some of the new colors for glazing. The pink is especially divine! Could I borrow you for a few minutes to help set up? Running late as always!”
Neela smiled, accustomed to last-minute setups on the first Wednesday of each month. She returned from the back room with the stools, then unwrapped the smocks from dry-cleaning bags and left one on each seat.
“Did you have a chance to look at the calendar for January? It’s quite a long trip, I’m afraid.”
Karen waved her hand dismissively. “No worries! My niece will be here right after Christmas, so I’ll have extra help.”
“If I haven’t mentioned it before, thank you for being so flexible with my playing schedule.”
Karen beamed. “You’ve mentioned it plenty, Neela. Of course! You’re a good worker, and I’m delighted it’s working out for the two of us. Besides, how many people get a chance to say they have a silver medalist working for them? I’m the only person I know, and you being here has given me some credibility with my sons.”
As soon as the first artists had arrived for the morning’s workshop, Neela excused herself to the back room.
Karen had already turned on the small desk fan, and its low hum kept the small, functional room from being completely silent. A radio had been brought in a week after she started, but Neela never needed it. She preferred the sound of solitude. It was a nice change from the physical exertion that took up so much of her week.
She could sink into the world of numbers quickly. They were logical and understandable. Everything fit into neat columns. Things had their own places.
When she next spoke to Karen, the day had already flown by, and it was close to five o’clock.
“Neela? Mano’s here to pick you up. How are the numbers looking?” Karen asked as she stepped into the room.
Neela glanced up at the clock wall. He was early.
“Good,” she said as she closed the spreadsheet she had been working on. “Last month’s accounting is saved. I have your checks ready to go out. We’re up to date on everything.”
“Lovely! It’s been a while since I’ve seen your cousin. Anything special I should know of?” Karen paused, then frowned. “Please tell me it’s not your birthday.”
Neela smiled. “It’s not my birthday.” She gathered her things and reached for her backpack. “No, just a quick catch-up. He leaves for a month’s tour soon.”
“My son said Mano may be leaving for good.”
“Your son knows more than I do at the moment.”
“Lawrence would be devastated. Mano’s his favorite player.”
“Yeah,” Neela said softly. “He’s mine too.”
As she entered the central part of the store, she spotted the significant figure of her cousin. Hunched over slightly, he signed the back of a t-shirt, whispering unknown words to the young fan still wearing it. The young boy’s face lighted up as they both followed a woman’s direction for a photo. “Over here, please!”
Her cousin’s smile softened the harsh planes of a face which belonged to a man known to be merciless on the field.
Mano spoke briefly to the woman before taking the young boy’s hand and walked towards her. “And this, Tommy, is my cousin, Neela. She’s one of the first rugby players in New Zealand to ever win a medal from the Summer Games.”
“Wow,” Tommy said, his eyes widening even further. He swallowed. “May I have your autograph? Next to Mano’s?”
“Of course,” Neela said, taking a pen. “There you go. Are you a rugger, too?”
“I’m trying, but I’m the smallest in my class.”
“It’s never only about size,” Neela said. “It’s about technique. And heart. Mano always told me that when I was growing up.”
After a few more pictures and another wave to their new fan, Neela turned to Mano for a hug. “How was your trip?” she asked. It’d been a few weeks since they’d last seen each other.
“Good enough,” Mano said. He touched the bruise on her cheek. “From training?”
Neela shrugged. “An elbow got in the way. No big deal.”
“Watch out for elbows.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Mano gently squeezed her shoulder. Soft-spoken and careful with his words, her cousin was always the odd man out at the family gatherings. The only time anyone would see Mano Palua yell was on the pitch.
When she was younger, her older brother Joe had once commented that watching Mano play was like seeing Bruce Banner become the Incredible Hulk. “Like two different men,” he said when their cousin made a particularly vicious tackle during a Test match.
But Mano was never uncomfortable among the din that their extended family would create. He just sat in the corner, usually with their grandmother, content to observe rather than participate. He’d speak when spoken to but never more. If he were asked to play some footy with the family, he’d join in, but a passer-by would be hard-pressed to identify who among the mess of bodies was the professional player.
“Shall we pick up some takeaway and go back to my place?” Mano asked.
“Your place?”
Mano narrowed his eyes. “Why the surprise?”
“You’ve never invited me before,” she said.
“Sorry. I’ve not been there a lot with Margot being sick,” Mano said. “I should have done so when you first moved back. Blake brought it up, but he would turn our place into a pub in five minutes if I let him. Fella has a thousand friends.”
Neela smiled. She didn’t thin
k Mano was exaggerating. “I rode my bike over. Why can’t we just eat out? Save you from cleaning up.”
“I’ll drive you back here after dinner. There’s something we need to talk about, and I’d rather not have that conversation in a public place,” Mano said.
“This sounds serious.”
“After dinner.”
She knew better than to push for more information. After she’d said her goodbyes to Karen, they walked a couple of streets down to a pita restaurant they both liked and had frequented before.
She asked Mano about his upcoming tour—his farewell tour.
“It’ll be bittersweet,” he said. “Being on the National Team has been the focus of my life for so long, but it’s time. I’m ready for a change.”
“I read that you had a few offers from abroad?”
He kept his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah.”
Neela smiled at Mano’s reluctance to share details. “Oh, come on. What does that mean?”
“Thinking about them. They’re all good offers.”
“But?”
Mano glanced at her. “Margot’s here.”
“You’d be set for life.”
“Not quite, but yeah, the salary some of the teams are tossing about will give me some breathing room to help Margot’s family. They’re still recovering from all the treatment costs. I won’t lie—a higher salary would be attractive. Being away from Margot isn’t.”
“What other things are you looking at if you’re not playing overseas?”
Mano frowned. “Your father offered me a job at his company.”
Her heart sank, as it always did when she heard of her father. “You spoke to him recently?”
He paused before responding. “I speak to him every week.”
She knew she shouldn’t feel betrayed by that knowledge. Of course, Malcolm Smyth would make an effort to be in touch with his favorite nephew. Mano had lived up to everyone’s expectations.
“Neela, he’s a good man.”
She inhaled sharply. “I never said he wasn’t.”
She could hear the anger in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Almost ten years after leaving home, she still didn’t give herself permission to understand when — or why — she’d stopped feeling like Malcolm Smyth’s daughter.
“You’ll like working for him. He’s fair,” Neela said, digging deep to be gracious. She meant what she said, although her voice sounded hollow.
Mano put his arm around Neela’s shoulders and drew her close. “I know. He’s family. He’ll always be family. And family look out for one another.”
She didn’t want to hear it. She shook off Mano’s arm, walking a step ahead. She’d heard that all her life: family first, family first.
But only if you fit in the family.
When they returned to the townhouse, Tim greeted them at the door.
“Took you long enough! Hello, Neela! Long time no see! How are you? I think it’s your first time here, ever. Where’s your medal? Are you joining us for dinner?” Tim bent to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before he grabbed the bags of food out of Mano’s hands. “I’m starving. I hope you bought the one with the mint sauce.” Then Tim turned around and yelled, “Scott? Blake? Are you two done yet? I want to get into the kitchen.”
Neela followed Tim inside. She recognized Blake’s physique immediately. He stood with his back to her, leaning against the kitchen counter. The man he was speaking to glanced up at her entrance and did a double-take. His action caused Blake to turn around, surprise showing on his face. He looked past her to Mano, then back at her. He raised his hand in greeting. “Hi.”
Before she could say anything, Scott moved in front of her, eliminating Blake from her sight.
“Neela Smyth!” Scott exclaimed. “You being here has just made this day fantastic again. You’re on my top five list of people I hope to meet this year. You were brilliant in Rio.”
Neela returned his firm handshake. “Thank you. Top five? I guess I’m honored. But who are you?”
“Sorry. I’m Scott Warren, Blake’s agent. You’re not working with an agent now, are you?”
“Knock it off, Scott. Pay attention to me,” Blake said as he walked out of the kitchen. He smiled at Neela. “I didn’t know you were coming over. We would have had dinner ready if we knew Mano was bringing guests.”
“Last-minute change of plans,” Neela said.
Scott reasserted himself in front of Neela. “You know, I’ve had a few companies contact me, wanting some high-profile female athletes to represent their products.”
“Watch out for him, Neela. He’s a bit of a shark, this one.” Blake’s voice came from behind Scott.
Scott didn’t turn at Blake’s interruption, his study of her continuing. “That’s why he has all those sponsorship deals,” he said. “You’re really far more beautiful in person. The camera is going to love you. If you’re not working with an agent—and I’m surprised no one has snapped you up yet—we should talk.”
His hand held on to hers. She smiled. It had been a while since anyone had flirted with her so blatantly.
“Scott? How about we talk more tomorrow?” Blake said.
“I have no plans for dinner. Why don’t we finish our discussion tonight? There’s enough food for one more, isn’t there, Mano?” Scott said as he kept his eyes on Neela.
Mano suddenly appeared in front of her, his massive body now blocking Scott from her. He put his large hand on top of Scott’s and broke the long handshake.
“Why don’t you help set the table?” Mano said, his voice low and cold.
“Of course! Everyone dining together? I love a good family gathering!”
Mano rolled his eyes at Scott’s enthusiasm.
Scott was apparently not a stranger in the townhouse. He found the plates and flatware without asking for help and set the table as he continued to talk with Blake about the fallout from the hot tub video. But he was clearly still interested in talking to her. He pointedly asked Tim to move over so he could sit next to Neela, which elicited another unfriendly stare from Mano.
“Anyway, most of your sponsors aren’t worried,” Scott continued as he helped himself to one of the stuffed pitas. “The underwear people, even if they didn’t say it exactly, probably liked that this was a pretty sexy video.”
“It’s not sexy, it’s embarrassing. Mum saw it,” Blake said, then glanced at Neela. “We have a guest. How about we save this conversation for later?”
Neela waved a hand. “Don’t mind me. This is being talked about all over the country. I get it.”
Scott smiled widely. “I like you.”
Mano’s growl startled Neela and caused Scott to turn red.
Blake cleared his throat. “Any feedback yet on the statement we’d sent out?”
Scott wiped his mouth with a serviette. “Overall, it was received very well. It had the right tone. It was apologetic but also emphasized that your privacy had been invaded. Still, you’re going to need to do some work on polishing up your public image.”
“Is that what RugNZ wants?” Tim asked.
“Yes and no. Well, not in those exact words. No one doubts you can play, but it would be smart to change how people think of you. It’ll keep more sponsorship options open for the future. You don’t want to be known as the bloke who had a good time in a hot tub. The hot tub market isn’t particularly... uh... hot right now.”
Blake groaned at the pun.
“Blake, maybe you should consider doing something with Neela?” Tim said.
“Me?” “Neela?” Blake and Neela exchanged looks.
“Why not? Scott just said the market’s ready for more female athletes out there,” Tim said.
“I wouldn’t say no to doing endorsements, but why would Blake do one with me?” Neela asked.
“To add a fun angle to it,” Tim explained. “Liana and Mitch were recently approached to do something together. Liana was keen. Said that years ago, there was a famous coffee
commercial that followed the story of two people falling in love. Went on for years and increased coffee sales by hundreds of millions of dollars. But you know Mitch. He wouldn’t do anything like that.”
“Would Liana do it with someone else??” Scott asked.
The silence that accompanied Tim’s, Mano’s and Blake’s dark looks brought a deeper shade of red to Scott’s face.
“Scott, we’ll save your ass by not mentioning this to Mitch Molloy,” Mano muttered. “Just this time.”
“As I was saying,” Tim continued, shaking his head at Scott. “Something sweet, not sexy. Something quite different from hot tubs.” He looked at Neela. “Didn’t I read somewhere that you’re one of the most admired athletes in the country?”
Neela scrunched up her face. “I think I made that list as part of the team.”
“Good enough. You two should think about it. It’d be good for all female athletes, and people will start seeing Blake in a whole new light.”
Scott nodded at Tim in approval. “You think like an agent. If you ever want to drop that animal degree...”
“AgriScience,” Tim corrected him.
“Whatever. Let me know.”
“I don’t think we need to force Neela to be seen with me just to clean up my reputation,” Blake interjected.
“Why not?” Tim asked. “I think reuniting two people from one of the most liked sports videos ever seen would be very popular. It could give that coffee ad a real run for its money.”
“What video?” Scott asked.
Tim stared at the agent. “You don’t know about that video? What kind of agent are you?”
“Do we have to do this?” Blake moaned.
“It’s still on YouTube,” Mano said quietly.
All eyes now turned to him, but Mano’s face remained passive. “It’s a good video. It brought a lot of attention to girls in rugby.”
Scott pulled out his phone. “What do I search for?”
“Use this phrase: ‘Girl tackles Blake Stanton,’” Tim said excitedly, getting up to stand behind Scott.
Always You Page 7