“He had no right to act like that. I was so mad, I went up to him and called him a bratwurst,” I admitted aloud for the first time since the incident.
Two howls went up. One was from my dad and the other from Marc. “No!” he cracked up on the phone.
“Yeah. I lost it. I think he hates my guts now. I’ll have to tell you later the kind of crap he’s been telling me on the field,” I said with a big grin aimed at my boss, who was shaking his shoulders with laughter.
Dad kept laughing. “Yeah, I want to hear about it,” he said before pausing. “Pero Salomé, acuérdate de lo que te he dicho. Kill them with kindness, si?”
I groaned.
“Si. Forgive him for not knowing better, okay?”
Forgive him for not knowing better? “I can try but what about Eric? You want me to be nice to the person that hurt him?” The recent memory of Kulti calling him an imbecile was still fresh, but I didn’t tell my dad about it.
“Pues si. It was a long time ago and remember Eric broke that player from Los Angeles’s arm? It happens. You know your brother. He kicks up a fit because he likes to hear himself talk.”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. I feel like I’m cheating on Eric.”
“It’s okay. You aren’t. I would tell you if you were.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at the thought, but I managed not to; instead I sighed and agreed with him. “Fine. I’ll think about it.” Boo. “I’ll call you later then. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The second I hung up the call, Marc angled his body against the seat since we were at a red light and blinked at me. “Bitch, you’ve been holding out on me. Tell me everything.”
* * *
“Well that’s fuckin’ awkward,” Harlow whispered.
It was. It really was.
For the last five minutes, the team had stood by the curb outside of the Pipers’ office building waiting for the vans that would take us to the location of our first preseason game about an hour outside of the city.
While we waited for the vans that happened to be running late, we’d all been watching Kulti arguing on the phone saying things in his native language that just sounded… ugly.
Whoo.
“What do you think he’s saying?”
“His coffee was probably too hot this morning and he’s complaining about it.”
“He’s threatening to make a coat out of their skin.”
“Or use their stem cells to lengthen his life.”
That one had me cracking up.
“He’s probably just saying ‘good morning, I’m having a great day’ and it sounds that bad,” Jenny suggested.
I shot her a smile. “You guys figure it out while I go to the restroom real quick.”
I took off speed-walking toward the restroom on the first floor. No one was there, so I was able to get in and out in just a couple of minutes after relieving my bladder. By the time I made it back out, three white vans had appeared alongside the street.
Two of them were already filled from what it looked like when multiple sets of hands hit the glass windows as I walked by them, freaking zombie-wannabes.
“Come on girl, we’ve been waiting on you!” Phyllis huffed, standing outside of the first van with two other staff members.
I nodded and jumped into the van, instinctively going for the seat the furthest away from the door.
There was only one seat open besides the front bench, and that was in the very back row with Kulti. Kulti and a mesh bag of soccer balls. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.
Fighting back a groan and an eye roll that was totally over the top, I kept my gaze even and climbed all the way into the back to take the one and only empty seat right next to him. Thigh to thigh.
I could do this. I could be a mature adult. Right.
I had a pep talk with myself yesterday as I drove home after work. I could be an adult and set my pride aside to do what my dad had suggested. Was it going to be easy? Not exactly. But I was sure as hell going to try. I could put aside the fact this ass thought I was a snitch with no morals, and I could put my personal stuff aside and at least try to be cordial.
No one could take away me calling him a bitch in my head at least.
So I took a calming breath and said to myself, patience. Patience, Sal. Kill ‘em with kindness, I’d been told. I could be a bigger person. Easy.
Right?
I pulled my bag onto my lap and watched the last staff member get in the van. The second that everyone started making a lot of noise, I braced myself, put my Big Girl Socks on and whispered, like someone who hadn’t had her career threatened or her father insulted, “Can we call a truce?”
He actually responded. “What did you say?” the man sitting next to me asked in a voice just as low as mine had been.