Page 29 of Play Along

The only two things I’m thinking as I hang up the phone are that I’m about to be unemployed and that I never want to hear someone call me “Mrs. Rhodes” ever again.

The halls of the Warriors’ front offices are empty. The click of my heels against the marble floor is the only thing I can hear in my ringing ears as I walk to my fate. I cannot believe that after three years of putting up with Dr. Fredrick’s sexist bullshit, after grinding and waiting for a position to open somewhere else in the league, I’m going to be fired when I’m only months away from final interviews for my dream job.

I was so incredibly irresponsible this weekend. I’m never rash or reckless.

But the man who fits those adjectives perfectly is standing at the end of the hall, waiting for me.

“Damn,” Isaiah exhales when I meet him outside of Denise’s office. “You look...” He whistles.

He, on the other hand...

“Really, Rhodes? Your socks don’t even match. You couldn’t have tried to at least look presentable to watch me get fired?”

Looking down, he studies his socks in confusion before returning his attention to me.

“You’re not allowed to be a brat right now. I’m still pissed at you about the other morning. And you’re not going to get fired, Kenny.”

“Don’t.” I hold my hand up to stop him. “Don’t try to make me feel better about this. We both know what’s about to happen in there. We both know one of us is going to lose their job and seeing as you have the team’s best batting average, I’d make an educated guess and say it’s not going to be you.”

An annoying smirk tilts on his lips. “Keeping an eye on my stats, huh?”

“This isn’t funny, Isaiah. Everything I’ve worked for is about to get ripped away from me, so for once in your life, can you grow up and realize there are consequences to your actions?”

“Oh, here we go.” He scoffs a laugh. “My actions? I don’t remember forcing you to walk down the aisle or say, ‘I do.’ If I recall, you seemed pretty fucking excited about the prospect of telling your stepsister and your ex that you tied the knot before them. So don’t you dare put this all on me, Kennedy.”

I knew that’d piss him off. Maybe that’s why I said it. He’s never been mad at me. I don’t think I’ve seen him get mad at anyone. It’s nice to know that he’s got a bite to him.

“Our actions,” I correct. “And I moved our meeting back with my lawyer to eleven. We can go straight from here.”

“Great.” His voice is even, frustrated.

“Isaiah, I didn’t mean that you were the reason—”

“It’s fine, Kennedy. We’ll go get the annulment papers drafted as soon as this is over, and you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.” His jaw flexes. “How the hell did Remington find out anyway?”

“I thought maybe someone from the team told him.”

“Only Trav and Cody know, but they’re not going to snitch. And Kai, but he didn’t even want to tell Miller.”

How the hell am I ever going to look at those three again? Travis and Cody I can handle, but Kai... God, what is he going to think of me?

I’ve always respected Kai. He took care of Isaiah when they were kids. He took care of his son when Max was left at his doorstep. He’ll probably hate me for this. Isaiah is not only his little brother, but also his best friend.

Before I can think deeper into it, the door to Denise’s office opens. “Mr. Remington will see you now.”

We silently enter and I don’t breathe as Isaiah pulls the chair out for me to sit across from the team’s owner, and the oxygen still doesn’t come when he takes the seat next to mine.

The clock on the wall ticks, making it the only sound in the otherwise silent office, which only adds to the overwhelming tension filling the room.

Mr. Remington sits in silence, fingers steepled under his chin and watching us.

The clock ticks its timely beat, grating on my fragile nerves.

His desk is large and overwhelming even in his giant office, which includes a wall of windows with a million-dollar view above one of the most iconic parks in the league. His other wall is full of banners from the years the Warriors have won it all. There’s a single framed photo of him and his late wife, his son and daughter-in-law, and his only granddaughter, who is rumored to be taking over the family legacy as team owner soon, seeing as Arthur Remington is in his seventies and would be retired already if his son had any desire to work with the team.

“I heard you two had a great time in Las Vegas this weekend,” are the first words uttered out of his mouth.

Shit.

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