Page 38 of Play Me
The line goes dead.
I squeeze the phone so hard that something crunches. I’m not sure if it’s the device or my bones—and I don’t really care which one might be broken.I’m so fucking pissed.
Ideas, situations, and probabilities spin around in my head, trying to land on the reason this is happening. Surely, it’s a mistake. It must be. Because if it’s not … I’m fucked.
A cold sweat trickles down my back despite the cool temperature.Why is Renn doing this? What’s the point?I jerk the collar of my hoodie away from my neck, clawing at the fabricto make room to breathe. When I turn around, Jory is holding the door open and watching me.
“Are you okay?” he asks with genuine concern written on his face.
“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” I exhale and shrug, frustration setting up residence in my shoulders. “You good?”
He motions for me to enter the lobby ahead of him. “Better than you, by the looks of it.”
“At this point, it wouldn’t take much.”
The building is quiet with just a few bodies shuffling around this early. The first rays of the sun beam in, illuminating the space with a promise of a bright day. It would be inspiring if my day hadn’t just taken a nosedive into the fiery pits of hell.
“I’m gonna grab a protein shake before we head back,” Jory says. “Want one?”
“I …” My gaze shifts to movement at the elevator bank. Renn is stepping out, his attention focused on his phone. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“See ya back there,” Jory says.
My feet move toward Renn before my brain makes the decision. I clutch the strap of my bag at my shoulder and remind myself to stay calm.It’s probably just a mistake.
“Good morning,” I say, struggling to keep from clenching my teeth.
Renn’s head snaps up. There’s no smile, no offer of a handshake.
Fuck. “Hey, I just got a call from Chuck …” I’m not sure how to explain my question, or what words to use to get the point across.
“Yeah. Why don’t you come up to my office?”
“Sure.”
We stand shoulder to shoulder in the elevator as Renn types away on his phone. His nonchalance about this, like takingthousands of dollars out of my hands is no big deal, makes me want to punch something. Because the longer the ride to the top floor takes, the more panicked I become. He knew what I wanted to talk about without me saying it.
Something is very, very wrong.
He leads me past cubicles and staff members having breakfast at their desks. He’s cordial to everyone who speaks to him—but few do. It’s clear he’s focused on business.What is happening?
“Come in and shut the door,” he says, walking into his office and rounding the corner of his desk.
I shut it softly and drop my bag beside the same chair I sat in the last time I was here.
“Have a seat.” Renn sits behind the stately desk and rocks back in the leather chair. He waits until I get comfortable before speaking. “I invited you up here because I don’t discuss financials in front of players, and I assume that’s what you were talking with Chuck about this morning.”
“Yeah. With all due respect, what the fuck?”
“Hey, the contract conditions were very clear, and you and I went over them together.”
I nod, bewildered. “I agree.”
“You broke the contract, and I’m not in the business of paying out that kind of money for no reason. So the bonus is recalled.”
I grip the armrests, holding myself steady.“You broke the contract.” What?
I’m speechless. Disoriented. I replay the sentence again, like I can roll it over repeatedly, and it’ll eventually be polished and make sense.
