“I didn’t realize you were writing poetry about Ryder,” I retort, straightening my jacket and pacing around to bleed my frustration.
“If he makes a name out of me, I’ll write poetryandpaint pictures of him.”
That actually makes me chuckle. Part of me agrees to that, even if it means painting an asshole to properly depict Ryder.
Prove him wrong and revel in it.
“Come on, let’s sign these documents. Maybe that’ll give you the motivation to work with him. Your name is right next to ‘thirty-thousand dollars’,” Andrew declares.
I shake my head and follow him to his dining table. “God, that’s so much money.”
“That dude punches harder than he did three years ago. Whatever is driving him for that cash is strong. So you can deal with his attitude. You’re getting paid to.”
I lean over the dining table, skimming through the piece of paper.
“You can sit and read the whole thing if you want.”
“Nah, Louise called me and went over it on the phone,” I tell him, referring to our lawyer.
I still give it another skim, thankful that it’s pretty straightforward. The contract mostly states that as long as I perform the listed tasks of a sports therapist and do nothing of morally conflicting interests—which our lawyer explains is akin to me moving so far away that I can’t perform, taking on a new job, or engaging in an extremely unprofessional manner—then I can’t be terminated without reasonable means that would otherwise result in a normal firing.
My favorite part is the one that says if Ryder wins, I get the money.
I date my signature, catching Ryder’s poor handwriting next to his name. Andrew’s isn’t much better.
This isreal.
My cheeks twitch with a frown. I imagine a fourth line—one with my brother’s name, but only three are printed.
Save it for later.
Facing the head coach, I say, “Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad you’re at the gym, Andrew. This is going to be one hell of a ride. I’ll need wine, though, if I have to deal with theprincessdownstairs.”
Andrew laughs, something I rarely ever witness. “I think we can be professional with this, Stevens. I know you want it, so prove it. Let’s fucking win this thing, and let the princess have his moments of drama, alright?”
He sticks out his hand, which I shake, not looking him in the eye as we hardly ever got along like this.
When I pull away, I head to his kitchen to gather my things.
My entire life is about to change.
J U L I E
* * *
It'stime to inform my parents about the gym’s new opportunity now that the contract’s signed.
I call Mom first, breaking the news about Ryder. “Yeah, Mom. Thirty grand,” I say, leaning against my kitchen countertop as we FaceTime.
Mom holds the phone below her, looking down at the screen as if it’s a book. Her dark brown hair is cut to her chin. Red lips make her white teeth shine even brighter, although her voice shakes with emotion. “Julie, that’swonderful. Oh, Jeremy would be sothrilled.”
Mom frowns and looks away, holding a tissue to her nose. Then she sobs. I avert my gaze, having expected this. I don’t blame her for being emotional, but she’s always preferred Jeremy, and she faded from my life when my brother did.
Dad tries to be a buffer, telling me it’s because my brother and I are so similar, which is apparently only a sad reminder of Jeremy to her… versus, you know, being a reminder that she still has herother kid.
They always say you can’t choose who you’re born to, but youcanchoose who you call family. Still doesn’t alleviate the burning hole in my chest singed by her.
Nodding and smiling becomes mechanical before wrapping up the call. “Anyway, I’m gonna call Dad. I’ll do what I can for Jer. You can count on me, alright?” I tell her, not sure why I even try.
