What a smart-ass.
* * *
We were at the airport in Seattle on the way back to Houston, following our second game a few days later, when I spotted the crowd surrounding our sensation of a coach.
Not again.
I hadn’t said anything about the crowd around the Audi after the first game, and I hadn’t heard anyone else say anything about it either. To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought. Since then, I’d played softball with the German and even joked around with him for a little bit, at least as much as his dry humor was capable of.
On the other hand, nothing had changed while we were on Pipers time. He still ripped me a new one each chance he had. I hadn’t given him another ride home, either. The black Audi was always there after practice, its tint so dark I’d bet a dollar it was illegal.
Everything seemed to run normally, not bringing any unwanted attention to this new buddy I had. No one had a clue, with the exception of Marc, who wasn’t speaking to me unless he had to because I’d brought Kulti to softball and hadn’t warned him. He’d get over it eventually.
Besides that, everything was fine. The Pipers played another game and won, and now we were heading home. I’d gotten a ride in the last van to the leave the hotel along with Jenny, my hotel-room buddy.
The chunk of the team that had arrived before or with the German, was scattered throughout the gate. Several airport security stood close by, while the people who recognized Kulti stood in front of him, staring. Oblivious to his audience or simply settling for pretending they weren’t there, Kulti was looking down at his iPad like he didn’t have people treating him as if he was in a fishbowl.
Why wasn’t he in the colonel’s lounge, or whatever it was called, like he’d been on the flight over?
Kulti looked up and around. His face was expressionless, but he caught me watching and something passed between us, something that only my gut understood. He was doing the same thing he had back during the preseason game when that fan had stopped him. So he knew that he was surrounded. He was looking for help.
I could have ignored him. I was well aware of how easy it would be to pretend I hadn’t seen him. Damn it.
“Jen, do you have your Uno cards with you?” I really hoped this didn’t backfire on me. I wasn’t sure my pride could handle it.
Standing right next to me, as she sipped on the Americano she’d purchased on the walk over, she nodded. “Always.”
“Are you ready to do your good deed of the day?” I asked her, knowing damn well what her answer would be.
“Sure. What are we doing?”
“We’re going to see if Kulti wants to play.”
Her almond-shaped eyes didn’t even blink once. “We are?”
“Yes.”
It took her a second to catch up when I made my way over to the lonely German, but she followed, without an argument. He looked up as I took the open seat on his left, his backpack was on the other seat, and Jenny took the open one on my other side. His eyebrows made a funny line, like he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on and was undecided about whether or not it was a good thing.
Jenny passed the deck of cards over to me—sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.
I raised my eyebrows as I moved the cards onto my lap for him to see. It didn’t escape me that his crowd of onlookers was watching us curiously, but knew better than to say anything. I kept my attention on Kulti the entire time, watching as his eyes went from the cards to my face and then back to the deck again.
Part of me expected him to say no.
He didn’t. He took his iPad and slid it into his backpack, raising his own thick eyebrows. “I haven’t played in a very long time.”
Jenny popped her head in from around, smiling wide. “We’ll teach you.”
I snorted and pushed her face back with my hand on her forehead.
Not fifteen seconds later, the three of us sat on the floor at Sea-Tac, playing Uno with a small group of Kulti fans standing around. It made me feel awkward. I couldn’t help but glance up every so often and smile at the people watching us because I didn’t know what else to do. But it didn’t stop the three of us from trying to beat each other.
And exactly six hours later, when our plane landed in Houston, I had an email from my dad that said: You’re famous.
There were pictures of Jenny and I sitting with Kulti, laughing our asses off during one of our games. Someone had posted the picture on a fan website. Below the image was an italicized caption: If one of these lesbos is his girlfriend, I’m gonna kill myself.
Chapter Fourteen
Exactly one week after the softball game, days after pictures had gone on the internet of Jenny, the bratwurst and I playing Uno at the airport, I had Kulti pull me aside after our cool-down following practice.