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 to 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