Reiner Kulti was standing by my in-desperate-need-of-a-carwash Honda, saying…. What?
“Umm…excuse me?” I asked slowly, carefully. I didn’t usually imagine hearing things.
“If you,” his tone sounded a little too ‘you’re-stupid’ for my tastes, “tell anyone about yesterday, I’ll make sure you’re watching the season from the bench.”
I could count on my hand the number of times I’d gotten in trouble for something that wasn’t me playing too roughly on the field.
Once when I was in second grade, I got caught copying my friend’s homework.
Twice I lied to my parents about where I was going.
Then there was that thing when I was on the national team, which was me being plain stupid rather than really trying to deceive anyone.
The point was I didn’t like to do bad things or disappoint anyone. Honestly, it made me feel about two inches tall and that was the absolute worst. It was for me at least. Throughout my life, most people had called me a goody two-shoes because I didn’t like to do things that would get me into trouble. I had better things to do, anyway. Pushing around a few players didn’t count because they gave as good as they got.
So it seemed absurd to me that he would think I’d do something like that.
Immediately after I got over how surprised I was that he’d assume that, I got pissed. Really fucking pissed. Bench me?
Indignation, a blast of anger that rivaled freaking Krakatoa and disbelief made my heart start pounding and my chest get tight.
I was panting. Was I panting?
My face got all hot and a knot formed in my throat.
For one half of a split second, I forgot who was in front of me.
It was just long enough for me to ball up my fists, rage making me jut out my chin, and say “You—,” I don’t know what I was about to call him because I was so pissed off—so pissed off—I couldn’t think straight. But just as my hand began to make its journey toward the German’s face, I caught Gardner and a couple of the players that hadn’t left yet just behind him, walking toward their cars.
And common sense mixed with that little voice in my head that kept me going when I felt like quitting this dream, reminded me to think about what I was doing.
The air went out of my lungs like I’d just been punched. A vein in my temple throbbed in response. Don’t do it. Don’t you do it. The hair on my arms prickled up.
Slowly, I let my hand drop to my side and made my mouth close itself.
This dipshit wasn’t going to be the reason I had to sit out a season.
He wasn’t.
The urge to open my mouth and tell him to go suck a cock was right there, but I reeled it in slowly and steadily like it was a barracuda fighting for its life. But I did. I kept it deep in my chest, in my heart and locked it up.
He wasn’t going to take this away from me.
In what was probably one of the hardest things I’d ever done, I kept my middle fingers tucked in, my knee straight and away from the general vicinity of where a groin on a six-foot-two man would be, and pivoted around before sliding into my car. I closed the door without saying anything, made sure I wasn’t going to run over anyone, and backed out of the spot I was in.
I didn’t look in my rearview mirror once. I was too pissed.
I made it as far as the light before one single tear came out of my eye. Just one. How could he threaten me after what I’d done? I couldn’t understand. I took a deep, ragged breath and told myself that I wasn’t going to waste my tears on him. Whether it was humiliation or being insulted or plain being angry, it didn’t matter. His stupid-ass opinion didn’t matter to me. I knew who I was and what I was.
He could go suck a big dick.
And I hoped he gagged on it.
* * *
“Are you okay?”
I tied the knot on the big black bag I’d just finished dumping the grass catcher into. I nodded at Marc and gave him a tired smile. “I’m okay. Are you?”
He pulled his hat off his head and ran a hand over his short black hair. “A little hung-over, but I’ve been through worse.” He fidgeted with the duffel bag he had thrown across his body before following after me. “Was, uh, everything okay last night?”
“Yeah. He made it to practice this morning.” I said that so casually I thought I deserved a gold star. “Thanks again for calling me.”
He shrugged off my thanks and picked up the edger waiting on the driveway. “What the hell do you think he was doing there anyway?” He asked the question quietly.
“I have no clue.” He hadn’t said anything besides threaten me. Fantastic. “It seems pretty stupid to me, but at least we got him out of there.”