Finding my application wasn’t difficult. I’d visited it half a dozen times since I submitted it to see if the processing status had changed, and it still had not. All the way at the bottom of the page, there was a link to click and follow to withdraw the application. I sat and stared at it, waiting for it to talk back to me. My hand moved like a cinder-block as I drug my mouse closer to the link to click it and formally start the process. Emotions slithered their way back up my throat, but I took a large drink of my beer and let the bitter swill wash them back down. There was no place for them now. I placed a bet, and I lost. It was time to pay the piper. I clicked the link and closed my eyes like it was going to explode, so when I heard a knock from outside my office, I jumped.
MontRec closed at eight-thirty, and it was nearly ten o’clock now, the light outside having completely receded save for the few pinpoints of the streetlights. It was a community staple, so it’s hours were well known. I couldn’t guess who might be there, apart from Alec. I checked my phone, and though I did have a slurry of texts from him, they were all instructions to come home soon, the last one saying he was going to bed. I stood up, taking my beer with me just in case, and when I cleared my office and peeked through the glass front doors, there was a man outside excitedly flagging me down. He had short black hair in an afro cut, bright brown eyes, and an exuberant smile. He was dressed in a business suit, the light gray fabric of which contrasted well with his brown skin tone. His confidence radiated off of him, even through the glass door and metal grate.
I moved to stand just in front of the door and cupped a hand next to my mouth. “We’re closed! Come back tomorrow. We open at nine.”
He shook his head, sifted a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a card. He slapped it against the grate protecting the doors with the credentials facing me. I craned my neck, trying to read it through the holes, and when I managed to do so, my jaw dropped. It was Wright Johnson, the commissioner of the Idaho Athletics Board. What the hell would he be doing here? What would he want with me? I pointed down toward the employee entrance and unlocked the door.
“Miss Dallen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Wright Johnson. You can call me Wright. I stopped by your apartment to speak with you, but your brother informed me you were here. Can I come in?”
I wasn’t sure what the shorthand for saying, “I didn’t know you before this moment, but now that I do, I’m starstruck,” was, but I was that. I stuttered out, “Y-yes!”
I stepped aside, and as Wright passed me by to enter, I slapped the breaker on the wall to turn the lights on. MontRec’s lights started to click on in succession, and Wright watched them all as they popped on.
“Welcome to MontRec,” I said.
“Well, that is certainly a welcome.” He chuckled and walked around the main room. “Humble but well-kept.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “It’s kind of my pride and joy.”
He looked over at me. “You own it?” His eyes drifted down to the beer in my hand.
“No, but the owner is pretty hands-off. He trusts me with it.” I held up the beer. “Should I hide this or get you one?”
“Neither,” Wright replied. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a beer, but I just came from having drinks with a colleague. If I have anymore, you’ll have to drive me home.”
I let out an awkward laugh. His presence was, at the same time, domineering and whimsical. Just what was this guy about? I slid my beer behind the reception desk regardless and pulled the rolling chairs behind it around.
“Want to sit?” I asked.
“Thank you.” He settled down into one of the rolling chairs, and I fell into the other.
“So, um. What can I do for you?”
He crossed his arms, allowing me to notice for the first time that they were massive. In fact, his entire stature was large. I wondered if he played football before settling into an office, but I decided not to ask. It didn’t make me happy that I had to be an office manager when I’d rather be on the field, so if the same was true for him, I didn’t want to insult.
“Well, I would think it’d be obvious. I’m here to get you on the road to semi-pro status.”
My heart tried to break through my chest. “You…what?”
“I saw your game tonight.”
My heart receded as far back into my chest as it could go. “Oh.”
He laughed. “Yes, it wasn’t your grandest display, was it?”
I stood up, walked around the reception desk, grabbed my beer, and returned to my seat. Wright laughed as I tipped it to my mouth and knocked a good portion of it back.
Finally, I looked back at him with a grimace. “No.”
He pointed out a finger. “I’ll tell you something, though, Quinn. Things might not have gone well with the Vipers, but you’ve got yourself a good team.”
I didn’t hesitate when I responded, “I do. They’ve worked harder than most pro players. I’m very proud of them.”
“You should be. They’re a team worth being proud of, and I realize that a loss can be difficult any way you shake it, but you just found yourselves a little unprepared. Trust me, with my help, you won’t take a defeat like that again.” He smiled. “So, should we talk specifics?”
I wanted to. So badly. I wanted to completely ignore what had happened with Zeke and the Vipers and let this random savior who had wandered into my world turn my team into the semi-pro team they deserved to be.
“I can’t,” I said at last. I made a deal, and I wanted to be good to my word. “I’m ashamed to admit that the game against the Vipers was a bit of a wager between Zeke Matheson and me. If we lost, we had to withdraw our application.” I pointed back over my shoulder. “I was just doing it when you walked in.”
“That is unfortunate.” Wright frowned and shook his head, but then he sighed, and his smile returned. “Fortunately, the decision isn’t yours to make anymore. It’s mine. I’m a fan of football, and after tonight, I’m a fan of yours, as well. It would be against my good nature to allow a team such as yours to bow out. I simply won’t have it.”
The words were both exciting and disheartening. I didn’t want to go back on the deal I had made. “But Zeke—”
Wright waved a hand through the air. “Don’t you worry about that washed-up, pro wannabe.” He clapped a hand over his mouth and then shrugged. “Eh, sorry, my mouth can get me in trouble sometimes. I know types like Zeke. He’s chasing a contract he’ll never get and feels like you could be a threat to that. I’ll deal with him. You just focus on doing what it takes to meet the requirements.”
I allowed myself to smile as hope flooded into me. “Really?”
“Really. Don’t you worry. Zeke will know you didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
I nodded. “Okay.” My smile grew. “What do we have to do?”
“Well, there’s the matter of the establishment fees, but keep that out of your mind for now. We can discuss your options when the time comes,” Wright began, and I appreciated his use of the word when as opposed to if. “You will need a coach. You put one on your application, but I didn’t see one at the game. Well, I saw your brother, but I don’t believe that’s who you put down.”