Brienne flushes, and I want to kick Drake under the table. That was unbelievably rude, but he’s also not wrong.
An apology is quick from Brienne’s mouth. “I’m sorry, Mr. McGinn. I didn’t mean it as a reflection of your parenting abilities. I meant it as a lead-in that we can help you find resources here to help.”
“Poor lead-in, if you ask me,” Drake drawls, and I’m wondering if he’s trying to get fired before he’s even offered the job.
This time, Brienne’s cheeks flame red, but I can see by the flash in her eyes it’s from anger and not embarrassment. “As owner of this team, I have the right to ask questions to make sure you’re a good fit—”
“Why don’t you just ask what you really want to ask?” Drake growls, cutting her off midsentence.
I pinch the bridge of my nose against a headache of epic proportions starting to form. I glance at Matt Keller, and he’s smirking. Callum looks uneasy.
“Fine,” Brienne snaps, leaning toward Drake. “You’ve had some serious allegations leveled against you. I’d like to know how you’ve handled those attacks because—”
Drake interrupts her again, this time snarling in fury. “I handled those allegations by telling people to go fuck themselves. I’m going to tell you the same thing, so—”
“Okay,” I exclaim, jumping from my seat and putting a restraining hand on Drake’s shoulder. I’m confused as hell about how this went so bad, so fast. “Let’s calm down.”
“I’m calm,” Drake asserts as he stands. “But I’ve quickly ascertained that this team”—he looks directly at Brienne—“is no different from the others and certainly nothing special. I’m out of here.”
He pivots and marches for the door.
“Drake,” I call after him in frustration, but he doesn’t halt.
I peek back at Brienne, and she’s rubbing her temple with her fingertips. She must have the same headache as I do.
I take off after my friend, catching him at the elevator. “What the fuck, man?”
Drake looks at me, then back to the elevator where he stabs at the button. “Don’t start,” he growls.
“Were you even interested in this job?” I demand.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he retorts.
“That clearly is at odds with the fact that you were just rude as hell to the owner of this team. You essentially told her to go fuck herself.”
Drake shrugs, a sad smile on his face. “Regrettably, I didn’t get those exact words out of my mouth.”
“Jesus,” I snap at him. “What is your problem?”
Drake steps toward me and lowers his voice. Eyes locked onto mine, he says, “My problem is that this league abandoned me and so I really have zero fucks to give about my attitude right now.”
“You’re unbelievable.” The elevator doors open, but Drake doesn’t enter. I take his hesitation as perhaps regret, so I offer, “Do you want me to try to salvage this?”
Drake shakes his head, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, Baden. I thought maybe another shot, a fresh chance would be good. It’s not.”
“Don’t say that,” I beg of him.
He sticks out his hand. “Take care of yourself.”
I shake Drake’s hand, and then he enters the elevator. The doors close on him, and the first chapter of my coaching history with this team has concluded in failure.
CHAPTER 9
Sophie
I’m crossing the Fort Pitt Bridge when Frankie calls me back.
“It’s about damn time,” I growl teasingly. We’ve been playing phone tag since I lost my job yesterday.
Frankie was the first person I called after James fired me. Unfortunately, I had to leave a voicemail, but I didn’t tell her the news. That wasn’t something I could just drop in a voicemail, or she would’ve chucked her entire day to come over and commiserate with me.
Next started a volley of missed calls and subsequent voicemails. Our go-to message is always, “Tag. You’re it.”
My last message to her was just before lunch, and I injected a bit more urgency into it. “I have some earth-shattering news. Tag. You’re it.”
Frankie laughs at my dramatic jab. “You better have some earth-shattering news. I passed up the opportunity to talk with a really cute guy after my last class just so I could call you back.”
“I’ll one-up you,” I reply with a sly tone. “I just had lunch with a devastatingly gorgeous guy, and I drove myself to meet him downtown. Oh, and I got fired.”
“Shut the front door!” I wince at her shrillness. “Tell me everything. No, wait… don’t tell me a thing. I don’t have another class until this evening. I’m on my way to your house now.”
This is no surprise. I would’ve expected no less. Frankie has watched me withdraw from society these last several months, and I know she wants to sit down face-to-face and hear everything.
“I’ll meet you at my house,” I say, and we disconnect.
There is no one better than Frankie Dillard. We were roommates during our first year at Penn State, and she was the total opposite of me. I was calm, reasonable, and had solid common sense. I was studious, but I knew how to let my hair down on occasion. My grades were important, so I worked hard—I wanted to make my parents proud. My goals after college were to find a stable job, work hard, save money, and have a family one day.
Frankie was flamboyant and highly intelligent but had very little common sense and was driven by emotion. Because she’s so smart, she didn’t have to put a lot of effort into her studies and spent all her extra time having fun. She liked to party, and I was often the one making sure she got back to the dorm safe at night. Frankie liked pretty things and was motivated by money and ambition.
We were two young women who should not have clicked, and yet we did. When we set aside our inherent personality characteristics, we found we’re both grounded in the same values. We love our families, and we’re equally passionate about helping others.
When I wasn’t head down in my studies, and she wasn’t at a random party or weekend road trip, together we tackled mutual projects that brought us so much joy. We would help build houses for Habitat for Humanity, work in soup kitchens, visit nursing homes, and volunteer at dog shelters. Frankie would always tease that she did these things so God would forgive her many sins, but I knew she did it because that’s where she derived the most pleasure in life.
We graduated six years ago, and I followed her to Reynis. She worked there for the money, and I worked there because I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do for a career.
Over the years, I haven’t changed much. Sure, post-attack, I’m a little closed off and overly cautious with security, and yes, I’m afraid to go out of my house and I haven’t been able to muster up the guts to fly anywhere by myself, but I’m still the same calm, rational person who makes decisions based on careful thought.
Frankie is not the same person. She is still one of the kindest, most generous people I know, but she gave up her partying ways and her drive to earn money. In a move no one saw coming, she quit Reynis the year before last and became a yoga instructor. While she can still at times be driven by emotion, she’s now mostly peaceful and introspective, and she makes decisions based on a gut feeling the universe seems to impart upon her. She’s scaled back her materialistic ways because she makes nowhere near the money she used to, and I’ve never seen her happier.