Exactly fifteen seconds later Mr. Cordero’s ancient guardian was standing at the doorframe, holding the door wide open and waving us forward. “He’ll see you now.”
The general manager of the Pipers was sitting behind his desk as we walked in, Kulti ahead of me, still holding my hand. I knew what it would look like, and I didn’t find it in me to care. Not even a little. The German took the seat furthest away from the door. I took the other one, watching Cordero, who looked completely undisturbed.
“How can I help you?” the man asked with a distasteful expression.
“I’ll take the job if you let her play the next two games,” Kulti went right out and said it.
My head swung around to gape at him. What?
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one surprised by his words. Cordero’s eyes widened. “You will?”
“On two conditions. The first is that you let her start,” he stated evenly.
The oldest man in the room seemed to think about it, almost stupefied. “That’s your compromise?”
“One part of it.”
He didn’t want to take the job. He’d told me so. What in the hell was he doing?
“Rey,” I whispered.
The German turned to give me another look; that look that reminded me I had promised to trust him.
Damn it.
“Yes or no?” he demanded from Cordero.
“I…” he stuttered. “I can’t have you both on the field at the same time. There have been complaints from other players—“
The King raised a hand, shooting me a meaningful long look I wouldn’t understand until after he finished speaking. “I’ll sit out both games,” he offered, watching me while he did it.
For that brief moment, time stopped.
Cordero had no idea what had just come out of Kulti’s mouth. He heard the words, but he didn’t understand the meaning behind them. I heard the words and understood, but … but…
“No,” I told him.
He didn’t once break eye contact with me, confirming that he wanted me to really get what he was implying, what he wanted me to understand. “Yes.”
“Rey. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
The German gave me a hard look, his face both intense and serene at the same time. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Oh bloody freaking hell.
“You will sit out to let her play?” Cordero asked surprised, obviously not as oblivious as I had thought.
For Kulti to sit out a game…
With no hesitation and still staring directly at me, the pumpernickel said to the Pipers’ general manager. “Yes. Do we have a deal?”
The other man seemed to only think about his answer for a minute. “Okay. You’ve got a deal as long as your next demand isn’t preposterous.”
I couldn’t help but stare at Kulti. My entire body was zeroed in on him, on his words, on his face and on that swell in my chest that wanted to squeeze my vocal pipes until they burst.
“Good. The other thing I want is for you to take a look at Sal’s contract. I’m buying her out, and I need to know how much to write the check for,” the bratwurst explained. Before I could argue, he made sure I knew he was talking to me and not the general manager. “Don’t argue. You would do it for me.”
“Just because I would—“
“I would do anything for you.”
Ahh shit.
I flung up my common sense into the air and held my imaginary ovaries out in sacrifice. My heart was pit-pit-patting a beat it had never known before. I was going to have a heart attack at twenty-seven. Holy crap.
Kulti was going to sit out the last two games, and he wanted to buy out my contract for me.
He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, I repeated to myself, trying my best not to lose it right then and there.
“Cordero, do we have a deal?”
Neither one of us was looking at the weasel, so we both missed his scoff and the incredulous look on his face. As much as this old idiot was essential to what was happening that moment, it didn’t feel like it. This was me and Kulti, and Cordero was just background noise to get to where we were heading. “You want to buy out her contract?” Cordero’s laugh had an edge to it. “You’re more than welcome to.”
If I wouldn’t have been in such a daze over what Kulti had implied, I might have been offended at how easily this ass-wipe sold me off.
“Not together,” Cordero mocked under his breath.
The thing I would realize later was that I could have argued with him and defended myself. I could have told him nothing ever happened between Kulti and I. At least before we went into his office, he’d never been anything but platonic toward me. Fatherly, brotherly, friendly, Kulti had been all of those things throughout the course of our friendship. But what was the point in trying to convince someone who would believe whatever he wanted to believe otherwise?