“Duly noted,” Lloyd finally says. “Will you at least call Sylvia back?”
“Yeah. I’ll do it right now.”
I’m just eager to get off the phone with him. There are so many things Lloyd and I don’t see eye to eye on. The more I think about it, the more I’m ready to turn things over to Jared. With us getting Elevation off the ground, it’s the perfect time and ideal scenario: him managing my career as he convinces other athletes he can manage theirs.
I listen to the message Sylvia left. She invites me to do some talks for a week at the community center right outside of Baltimore where I played all the time growing up. It’s exactly the kind of thing I’d hoped to do while I was rehabbing on this side of the country.
“Thank you for returning my call, Mr. West,” Sylvia says when I dial her back.
“Please. Call me August. I’m sorry it took a minute. I’ve just started hitting the gym again and guess I hadn’t paid attention to messages for a few days.”
“No problem. Did you hear the opportunity I have in mind?”
“It’s perfect,” I say, thinking of all the times I got my ass handed to me at that community center. “I cut my teeth playing ball there. It’s not far from my mom’s, where I’m staying while I rehab. We’re right outside of the city.”
“Oh, good.” Sylvia’s warm voice comes from the other end. “I’ll email you details, but basically it’s a summer program, and we bring in someone different each week to inspire and encourage the kids. You’ll talk for maybe thirty minutes or so.”
“Sounds great.” I pause for a second, hesitant to broach my awkward question. “Um, obviously I play for the Waves out in San Diego, not the Stingers, but this is my hometown, and I really want to contribute here, too. Will any other Stingers be involved?”
“Actually—”
“I’m fine working with anyone from the team,” I cut in. “But Caleb Bradley and I aren’t—”
“I’m familiar with the, shall we say, difficulties between the two of you.”
“Good.” I blow out a breath, relieved that I don’t have to go into more detail to make my point.
“However,” Sylvia says, “his fiancée, er, sorry . . . girlfriend will be one of the volunteers. Several of the players’ partners are working at the center that week, but they—”
“Iris?” I stomp over whatever she was about to say, gripping the phone practically to the point of cracking. “Are you saying Iris DuPree will be there the same week?”
Crickets from the other line. Too eager?
“I mean, if that’s what you’re saying,” I continue, deliberately dialing it down, “let’s not mention it to Iris.”
“Um . . . what?” Confusion and reluctance pile up in Sylvia’s pause. “I won’t lie—”
“Lie?” I laugh a little to put her at ease. “Who said anything about lying, Sylvia? I was thinking just so she doesn’t feel awkward or maybe like she shouldn’t come, considering how things have been between Caleb and me. I think it’s great she’s volunteering.”
“If she asks, I’ll have to tell her,” she says a little stiffly.
“By all means. And if she doesn’t ask . . .” I shrug like she can see me. “She’ll find out when she gets there, and we’ll help the community center, which is the ultimate goal, right?”
“Right, but I don’t want any trouble.”
“There won’t be. Promise.”
It’s silent on the other end for a few moments, and I hope I’ve convinced her.
“Alright,” she finally says, her voice still a little uncertain. “I guess we could leave it a surprise for everyone. That might add some excitement.”
“Excitement. Exactly. Great idea. It’ll be fine. I have no beef with Iris.”
“Okay, well, I’ll send that email of the topics we suggest. You can modify as you see fit.”
“Thanks, Sylvia. I’m really looking forward to it.”
Once I disconnect from Sylvia, I sit on the plastic bin alone. On instinct, I walk back over to the box of my father’s things and pull out the jersey, slipping it over my head again.
