Wright crossed his arms. “Trust me when I say this, Quinn. No publicity is bad publicity. You want my advice? Continue letting Lila run rampant out there. The more people that see the show, the more clout your team will gain.”
“That doesn’t sound like clout. It sounds like negative energy,” Christine responded, and she got a smile from Wright that had nothing but malice behind the eyes.
“This is my business, dear. Believe me on this one.”
Christine looked over at me, and I mouthed, “Sorry,” before I turned back to Wright. “Um, Mr. Johnson, if you’re not here for that, why are you here?”
“I actually was here for that. I wanted to let you know that Lila’s display was huge for your team’s presence on the internet. I think we’ll live stream your next qualifier match.” He closed his eyes in satisfaction. “If we monetize the stream and allow ads, the revenue will be insane.”
I liked that our games hadn’t been televised up to that point. I was nervous enough that the Vipers game was going to be live. “I don’t know about that.”
Wright looked at me, now giving me his evil gaze masked behind a toothy grin. “Quinn, you can leave all of this stuff up to me. Don’t worry yourself with it. You just worry about getting out there and winning that next game. One more loss, and your journey ends. Do it for the fans!”
I’d been trying to put that thought out of my mind. Four out of five games was an uphill battle as it was, but I was hoping not to have to legitimately try to win against the Vipers. If we could have gotten more teams to agree to play us for semi-pro status, it wouldn’t have been so difficult, but we’re mid-season and just a little podunk team from Idaho. Not many people were willing to help out. Thanks to Lila’s actions, we had to win our next three games in a row, including the one against the Vipers. I’d be lying if I said those odds didn’t make me more than a little nervous.
“Whoa. Lots of people in here.”
All of our eyes shot over to the door, and my heart did a backflip. Zeke was standing there with a glass vase in his hand. The contents looked like flowers, but upon closer inspection, were actually tiny foam footballs on sticks, black finger tape spun to look like roses, and a few sprigs of lavender, which any athlete worth their salt could use for muscle treatments. There were small vials of greasepaint gathered around the bottom like rocks, and there was a red bow tied around the vase— black and red, the Widows colors.
“Hi,” I greeted.
He smiled at me. “Hi, yourself.”
Christine looked over at me, eyes wide. “Oh.”
I giggled and gave her a tiny shrug. She turned her back entirely and pulled her hands up to do a quiet clap and then turned back around. She said, “You’re right. It’s getting a little crowded in here, so I’ll go. Quinn, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. Thanks for this morning,” I said.
Christine winked at me before sliding past Zeke out the door. She looked down in the direction of his ass and then held out a thumbs-up before scuttling out of sight.
“Zeke,” Wright announced. He eyed the vase of flowers and then looked over at me before his ever-present smile started to fade. “What are you doing here?”
“You know what they say, sir. If you can’t beat ‘em”—Zeke looked over at me with a warm smile—“join ‘em.”
Wright was quiet for a long time after that. He kept looking at me, then back at Zeke, then at me, then back at Zeke, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He almost seemed annoyed, but I couldn’t figure out what about Zeke’s being there would bring him any kind of strife. I had experienced the odd commissioner enough to know better than to interrupt his thoughts. It seemed Zeke had a similar knowledge because he stood there in silence, as well.
Finally, Wright looked over at me, turning his back to Zeke. “Well, I suppose I’ll take my leave. Give the cameras a good show next week.” When he turned to leave, he shoved past Zeke without any form of manners. “See you around, Matheson.”
Zeke watched him go and then turned back to me. “What was that about?”
“I don’t know. He said he loved the way Lila acted because she’s trending, and now he wants to live stream our next game.” I leaned my head back against my chair and closed my eyes. “I don’t know what to do now. If I whip her into shape, he could get upset, but if she acts like that again and we lose our next game, we’re done.”
I didn’t hear Zeke move, but suddenly, there was a pair of soft lips against mine. I reached out, and my hands found Zeke’s sides. I pulled some, and his hands combed into my hair. All of the tension I’d been feeling moments ago faded away while Zeke’s hands fled my hair and came to rest on either side of my neck. When he finally pulled away and I opened my eyes, he smiled down at me, and my whole body shuddered. He had to have a superpower. That was the only explanation for the way he made me feel when I wouldn’t have minded hitting him with a car not that long ago.
“Don’t play your game to please Wright,” he said after a while. “Play your game how you would play it, and everything will be fine.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He grabbed the vase from my desk and handed it to me. “For you.”
I took it from him and pretended to smell them. The strong, unmistakable scent of greasepaint intermingled with the lavender was an oddly pleasing smell. I couldn’t believe how thoughtful the fake flowers were. They were perfect for an athlete while still getting the point across that roses usually communicated.
“I love them. Thank you.” I set them back on the desk and put my hands on his sides again, and he immediately leaned down to kiss me once more.
If I wasn’t careful, I would throw everything away for more opportunities to kiss Zeke. Having his lips on mine gave me the same rush of adrenaline that walking out onto the field at the beginning of a game did. All the anticipation and excitement, a hint of nerves, and tons of passion and determination. Zeke brought things out of me that I didn’t realize I’d buried. It was, at the same time, terrifying and exhilarating.
“I meant it, you know,” he started. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. If you would let me, I’d love to take you out on a proper date.” He snickered. “One we’ll both remember the next day.”
The joy I felt when he said it was overwhelming. “I’d love to.”
20
Zeke
The following Sunday was Quinn and my next shared day off, so we picked that day for our date. I hated how nervous I was. I’d taken women out before, even if dating wasn’t something I cared much about before. I wasn’t an animal who would just sleep with women for the hell of it. When I need to satisfy certain urges, I would take them out first, at least, even if they were well aware of what the end goal was. Those never made me nervous, maybe because it was just a means to an end. Things with Quinn were very different. I wanted this to work. I wanted this to be the first of many dates.
I told her to dress comfortably, which she did, but her gray leggings, gray and yellow Nikes, and yellow and gray long-sleeve compression shirt were still very fashionable, and I thanked all the gods for the way it clung to her curves. She had braided her hair, to the left so that it hung over her shoulder, and though I’d seen her plenty of times without makeup and still found her stunning, she now had on a full face that accentuated her eyes and made her face shine in the late morning sun.