Page 99 of High Notes & Hail Marys

“Reinhart…” he begins, his tone a warning.

You hold a hand up. “If you would, sir. I’mnotsorry. Thereissomething I want to say, though. So, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to say it.”

Coach looks skeptical, but he extends his palm. “Proceed,” he says. “You’re on thin ice.”

“I know I am,” you say. “I know that I’ve disappointed you and that my actions reflect poorly on the organization. For that part, I do feel badly. For causing you to waste time and frustration in your busy day, I also feel badly. But I’m not going to sugar-coat it, sir. You started thisconversation between us, and I’m going to end it.”

Your blood is singing in your veins, alive with the electric thrum of anxiety. Despite the confidence you can hear in your tone, you are scared shitless. You rehearsed every word of this. Now, there’s nothing left to do but say it.

“I want GoGo gone,” you blurt out.

Coach raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m a free agent,” you say. “I want to stay with Miami. And if you guys want me too, sir, it’s going to be without GoGo. You can have him or me. That’s not an empty ultimatum. If you want me to stick around and be a leader for you, I’m happy and willing to do so. But not with trash like that wearing the same colors as me.” You take a deep breath. “I have a favorable offer from the Tennessee Goliaths. And, if you don’t want to trade GoGo, I’m going to accept it. No bad blood, no hard feelings. It’s real simple, and it’s all up to you. Him or me.”

On shaking legs, you rise. On the other side of the desk, you think Coach might be speechless. From anger or surprise, you aren’t quite sure. Honestly, it doesn’t matter.

“I haven’t dismissed you, son,” Coach says, finally. His voice is tremulous. “You can’t—”

“I just did, sir,” you say. You drop your chinrespectfully. “I’m dismissing myself. That’s the end of the discussion. You have a real good day, now.”

You turn and walk out of the office.

Chapter Twenty-Four

You don’t hear anything for the next few days, but, then again, you don’t expect to. You throw yourself into training. Now that the first OTAs are done, it’s officially time for you to whip yourself into peak shape again. Egg whites and broiled chicken. Green vegetables. Endless protein shakes, and enough water that you feel like you’re sloshing. Your trainer eases you into your hardest workouts, which take you two hours a day, five days a week. Weights and cardio. Kettlebell swings, goblet squats, deadlifts, and medicine ball slams. You’ve got goals: you want to get your squat to 650 and your bench to 425. Your vertical needs work; you’ve fallen to thirty-seven inches in the off-season.

When Sterling calls you the first time, you assume it’s a mistake. He’s in Los Angeles. It’s 7 AM in Miami, and it’s three hours earlier over there. He gets up early, but that’s fucking ridiculous. You’ve just got to the gym, and your trainer is waiting. The phone buzzes again, and you frown at your Apple Watch.

“Just a minute,” you murmur to Leo. He gives you a thumbs-up, and wanders in the direction of his smoothie.

You have to sprint across the room to get your phone, not wanting to answer on the watch. In that space of time, the call has rung through and Sterling is already trying you again.

Something is very wrong.

Your heart in your throat, you swipe to answer the call.

“Ster?” you say. “I’m at the gym. What’s wrong?”

To his credit, Sterling is not crying. You’ve never seen or heard him cry, except a couple times from happiness on stage or after coming so hard that he probably communed with Jesus. But this is not one of those occasions. Heisn’tcrying, and you are glad, because that might break you. But he’s about to. You can tell.

“Kai?” he says, his voice unsteady. “Are you alone?”

“I’m at the gym,” you repeat. “Leo’s the only one here with me. He’s across the room. What’s up?”

“Google me.”

At first, you don’t think you heard him right, so you ask him to say it again.

“Google me,” he says, his voice breaking. “Or lookup the trending hashtags on Twitter. Just… do it now, Kai.”

You frown. “Do you want me to do it right now? With you on the phone?”

“No, you would have to put me on speaker. Just hang up. But call me right back.”

“O-o-kay,” you agree, mystified. “Give me a sec. Love you.”

He doesn’t reply, and the phone beeps to let you know that the call was disconnected.

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