Page 10 of Vexing the Viper

Oh, fucking hell. The one person who's supposed to help me is someone who apparently hates me.

5

NIKO

Dad: Hey, can you stop by my office when you have a chance? I have a favor to ask.

I look downat the text again and sigh, not knowing what type of favor Dad wants to ask me. My dad and I are close, but we don't have anything in common. When I was growing up, he always wanted me to be just like him: all about sports. But that's not who I am. It took him a little while to realize it, but he didn't let it affect our relationship. It didn't hurt that my younger brother was much more into sports, so Dad was able to pour his love of baseball into him.

As I walk through the locker room toward his office, I plug my nose at the putrid smell that's radiating from the area. Fuck, athletes stink. My vipers react to the scent as soon as I do because they start to shrivel up and hide under my beanie. If only I could do the same.

Keeping my head down, I head straight for my dad's office, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone there. There are whispers and mutterings, but most of the players on the teamknow who I am, and they know to leave me the hell alone. There were a few who tried to talk to me the first few times I showed up, but they learned quickly I wasn't the chatting type. At least, not to them.

While sitting down on the chair in front of dad's desk, I wait for him to get off the phone. I glance around the space, loving what he’s done with it. There’s multiple family pictures all over the light gray walls, along with team pictures throughout the years. I snicker when I see he has a mascot of a Cockatoo on the top of his filing cabinet. There’s Cockatoo decor everywhere. Definitely a proud coach.

"You summoned me?" I raise my eyebrow, throwing out a quick smile so he knows I'm joking with him.

"Yes, and thank you for coming, Nikolai." I roll my eyes at his use of my full name but keep my mouth shut. As many times as I ask him to just call me Niko, he never does.

"I have a favor to ask, and I know you’re going to want to say no, but know that I never ask you for favors. Ever. So it must mean I need this badly." He lifts his cap off his head, setting it down on the desk. He’s always wearing athletic clothing with a baseball hat. We’re similar in that I’m always wearing my beanie.

"Oh, my Medusa, what's the favor? It has to be pretty big if you're buttering me up."

"I'm not buttering you up," he tries to argue, but sighs loudly when I narrow my eyes. "Fine, I was. But I really do need this Nikolai."

"Okay, tell me what it is."

"I need you to tutor one of my players."

"No." It's more like “hell no,” but I don't want to cuss in front of my dad.

"Nikolai.” He sighs, rubbing his temples. “I didn't tell you this earlier, and I haven't told your mom yet, but I'm pretty sure my job might be at risk."

Sitting up quickly, my feet land on the floor with a thud. "What are you talking about?"

"The team hasn't won a championship in a while, and there's been talk about replacing the coaching staff if it doesn't improve this year."

"Wow." I don't follow the team all that well, but I know they've won a few games here and there. Apparently, not enough. "What can I do though? How is tutoring one of your players going to help?"

"I think he and our new pitcher are going to make a difference on the team. But he's not that good academically. He doesn't fail his classes, but he gets pretty close. If he does poorly, I can't play him, and I need him to be my catcher this season."

"Ugh," I moan loudly, tossing my head back and closing my eyes.

As much as I really don't want to tutor this person, I also don't want to upset my dad. And if I can help him keep his job, or at least help his player stay on the team, then I need to do it. But I don't want him to know I'm going to give in. I’ll let him stew in the uncertainty for a few seconds.

After a minute of silence where neither of us says a word, I lift my head and lock eyes with him. I laugh when I see he's not even paying attention to me, but is petting one of his snakes. I'm pretty sure it's Mikey–that one has always been feisty.

"Fine," I tell him, chuckling when he smirks at me. "You knew I would say yes, didn't you?"

"No, but I know you, and you would want to help me."

"So, who am I planning to tutor and what am I tutoring him in?"

"His name is King—" I cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

"King Porter?" I ask, secretly hoping I'm wrong and there are two Kings on the baseball team. Even though I know those chances are slim. There’s a better chance of a Dryad working as a firefighter.

"You’ve met?"

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