Page 7 of Just Say (Hell) No
Marko pulled out his phone. It was a challenge to find his spot on this squad after thirteen years with the Highlanders, and if his role was entertainment? At least it made a change after a decade as the enforcer. He said, “Hang on. I’m reading. Ahem. ‘Sometimes you need an ending in order to create your next beginning. Change is always a shock to the system, but a reality check can be just what you need most.’” He looked up. “There you have it, though I’ve already made my fair share of changes, and I wouldn’t have said I needed a reality check any more than the next man.”
“Course you do,” Koti said. “You’re single. Hugh and I get our reality checks the old-fashioned way. At home.”
“Speak for yourself, mate,” Hugh said.
“Yeh, right,” Koti said. “You forget I know Josie.”
Could be. Hugh had recently married Jocelyn Pae Ata, one of New Zealand’s most glamorous TV stars. Marko had barely met her, but since her most famous role was as the most beautiful Black Widow a man had ever lost his mind to, he found he could believe it. He said, “Much as I’d love to hang about and hear more, I’ve got this PR to see.” He zipped up his bag, found another ball of pink knitting wool inside to go with the tangled streamers that had festooned his cubicle when he’d arrived, and chucked it in the bin on his way out with a look for Hugh.
“Don’t blame me,” Hugh said. “I didn’t even give them the idea. Some scenes write themselves.”
When Koti stepped into the lift behind him and stood looking at the floor indicator, his hands clasped before him, Marko could only look at him and sigh.
“Can’t wait,” he said. “What.”
“What?” Koti asked, the picture of innocence. “Nah, bro. Just along for the ride, you could say.”
He followed Marko into the open-plan business office of the Blues, waving and calling his hellos as they walked past the mostly female staff, and Marko said, “Do you ever turn it off, mate? And don’t they get sick of it?”
“Yeh, nah,” Koti said. “Don’t seem to. And it’s this way.” He took the lead, stopped in front of a desk with a seating cube in front of it, and said, “Brenda, meet Marko. He’s been bad.”
“Geez, Koti,” Brenda, a lively-looking blonde, complained. “I was going to tell him that we wanted to introduce him to the public up north. Useful for sponsorships and all. New blood, because you’re getting old. That was meant to be the idea. Positive, you could say.”
Koti laughed, cheerful as ever. “Nice try, but Marko was born older than I’ll ever be. Serious, that’s the word. No show pony to take over my spot. Just another boring forward. Now, if you’d brought Kors up here instead, the contest would’ve beenon.Right body, right tattoo, mad skills.”
As he said it, a tiny brunette came around her desk and said, “Hey, buddy. It’s not nice to talk about yourself like that.”
“Nah,” he said. “Talking about Kors. I’m too old and got too many kids to be the glamour boy. Time for the old master to step aside.”
She sighed. “Fishing expedition. How many times have I told you that foreplay works best the other way? You’re supposed to tell the girlshe’spretty, not thatyouare. And I told you five o’clock.”
“Nice,” Koti said. He put his arm around her, lifted her off her feet, gave her a kiss, and said, “Could be I missed my wife.”
“Inthe office,” Brenda said to the air. “Lovely.”
“Never mind,” Koti said. He set his wife down and said, “We’ll do a contest, hey. Who can point out the highest number of wonderful attributes in the other person. I’ll win. You’re a better counter, but I’m a better noticer. But right now, you’re distracting me at work.” He grabbed another seating cube from in front of his wife’s desk, shoved it over to Brenda’s, and said, “You remember Marko. And Marko, this is my wife, Kate, who’s as thrilled as ever to see me. I’m just here to help my mate, baby. Moral support.”
Markohadmet Kate. She and Koti had been married some years. But she worked for the Blues? That was unusual. “Uh-huh,” Kate said. “Your insatiable curiosity. Nice to see you, Marko. I’m going back to work.”
“You do that,” Koti said, then put an elbow on Brenda’s desk and said, “Let’s have it. The dirty deal.”
Brenda said, “Always the drama. No worries, Marko. Easy-peasy. Like I said. Introducing you to Auckland. Showing your softer side.”
“Doesn’t sound good, cuz,” Koti said, which Marko didn’t need to hear. He could have decided that for himself.
“I thought about ballet,” Brenda said, and Marko’s world may have gone a little dark. “Gave me such a giggle. But Koti, we need you for that as well. You, and a couple forwards. Marko’s too pretty to be one of them, unfortunately, so that idea’s out for now.”
“I am not,” Marko said, “pretty. And I’m not doing ballet on camera. There are limits. That’s mine.”
“Too pretty for this,” she said, unfazed. She studied him dispassionately. “Though you shouldn’t be. You’re not actually handsome, at least not in any way that would bring Hollywood to the door. Your nose is too big, your jaw’s weirdly squared off, and you have too much brow ridge. And up close, your arms are too long and your hands are too big. You don’t look normal. You’re too intense as well. Frightening, even.” She considered him some more, then shook her head. “And you won’t work for my ballet idea. Pity. I need a couple big boys. The good-natured ones, though. The kind who’ll lumber about amiably, not somebody who looks like he’s about to start smashing the place up. A lock, maybe, and a prop. Some reallygoodmashed noses and ears. And Koti—or Nic, maybe—anyway, a pretty back who’ll be able to dance and will make the others look bad. Never mind. Project for another day. For you, Marko, it’s simple. Animals. You aren’t allergic, are you?”
“Uh… no,” Marko said. He didn’t looknormal?He was thankful beyond words all the same that the conversation had shifted from ballet. He couldn’t dance. He could get to a rugby ball, and he could get there fast. He could tackle hard enough for a man to feel it all the way through to his spine. But he couldn’t dance. “Not allergic.”
“Good.” Brenda tapped a couple sheets of paper in front of her, banged the corner briskly with her stapler, and handed them over. “Any day this week, and then—oh, call it once more over the next couple weeks, and you’re all done. They said they’d like a couple sessions to get everything they need. Easy-peasy, like I said. A hop, skip, and a jump away, and you’re off home again. Just give them a ring and set it up.”
Then she waggled herfingersat him. In dismissal.
Koti was right. He was clearly replaceable. A cog in the machine.
