Page 6 of Wild Catch
Williams freezes and gradually lifts his face to meet my eyes. It does help that I have tall genes. My father was basically a giant in his day in South Korea, and my mother is a whole runway model from Sweden. This is the one contribution I’ll thank them for.
“Whatever it is that you were going to do or say,” I mutter very low, hoping she doesn’t hear from behind me, “I advise you to shove it up your ass, and I also remind you that there are cameras here.”
“You damn?—”
“Nuh uh.” I shake an index. “Don’t say something I’ll be forced to make you regret. Turn around and go.”
He grits his teeth, which somehow intensifies the red in his face. “This is none of your damn business, Kim.”
“You’re right.” I take a step closer and lower my eyes to his. “But you’re going to make it my damn business if you keep bothering Mena. Go.Now.”
For a moment, Williams continues to breathe like a truck, his eyes blazing with all the hatred that was always living inside of him and he no longer has to hide.
Yeah, I know this guy hated my guts all two years we formed a battery—which I always found interesting when he was the one reaping the fame and the glory from my hard work—but I’m not the petty little shit that he is.
He tries to catch a glimpse of Mena behind me and I make a point of blocking his view, even though I don’t know if she’s still behind me or if she took the chance to high tail it out of here. But finally he gets the hint that nothing further is coming from this and he swivels on his heels.
Pretty rude of him to make his team bus wait for his tantrum, and I kindly hope they left his ass behind.
“Thank you, but I had it under control.”
I straighten. So she’s still here, huh?
Glancing over my shoulder reveals her annoyance. Like she genuinely thinks she didn’t need help.
I snort. “Sure, and your body language didn’t screamhelp.” At last, I put on my helmet and since no further comment comes, I hop on my bike and turn it on.
It’s only when the roar subsides to a resting state that I realize she’s talking. I turn back to her and she says, “Um, I didn’t really mean to spill all the beans like that—I was just so mad and uh…” I take one look at her wringing hands and the way she bites her lower lip, and it’s enough to deduce what she wants.
I flip my visor open. “Let’s put it this way,” I say in a flat tone of voice. “I already guessed some of this and never told a soul, why would I start now?”
Her pretty eyes widen to an impossible extent.
“You two weren’t as discreet as you maybe thought.” I check my watch. I’d have loved to be lounging at home a half hour ago. “Now, can I go?”
“Y—Yeah.”
She’s still rooted to the spot, so I have no choice but to walk the bike back out of the parking spot until I’m able to drive away. Her figure’s still in the same place when I check the rearview mirror.
CHAPTER3
ROSE
The marketing and broadcasting department of the Orlando Wild team has twenty one people, including me, and we meet every Friday morning in plenum. There’s nothing remarkable about this because, unlike the players, we don’t have off season down time.
But there’s something different today, and it’s not just because it’s my first department meeting after serving my very short suspension.
I half wonder if someone spiked the coffee with something stronger. Yet, I know it’s not because of that. The team won its first series against the Denver Riders, who are a World Series contender. Tonight is game three of the second series against a weaker team, and so far we’ve won all games.
It’s too early to get excited about what this means, but anyone who has worked for this organization for more than a year knows that we’ve never had as strong a season start before.
Like, ever.
And if anyone should be capitalizing on this, it should be this department.
“—Ramp down the mic’ed up interviews?” one of the producers is asking. “Polls from fans say they’re not very popular in the middle of the broadcast because it distracts players.”
My boss, Dave Rogers, director of social media, chimes in, “And this is what we have social media for, ladies and gentlemen.” He turns to put me on the spot. “Rosalina, what do our followers say?”
