Kulti (27 page)

H
e prodded
at the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Just because I’m not attracted to women old enough to remember the last Great War, doesn’t mean my list is made up,” Kulti said.

O
h my God
. That made me burst out laughing. “You make it sound like I hit up retirement homes for dates. Those men are probably only a couple years older than you are, so think about that, creaky knees.”

A
nd that got
his mouth to close. “You are the most insolent person I have ever met in my life.”

S
miling
, I took a bite out of my sandwich.

W
hat felt
like five minutes later, Kulti finally turned his attention back to the television, one cheek pulled back like he was biting down on.

W
hen the episode was over
, I got up slowly and took my dishes into the kitchen, grabbing Kulti’s right along the way. “I have to leave in thirty. If you promise not to steal anything that you could easily afford on your own, you can stay here and watch more TV.”

T
here was
a pause as he scrolled through the DVR recordings. “My driver is downstairs. He can take us.”

U
s
? My plate clattered into the sink. “You want to come?”

“
I
have
nothing else to do.”

T
hat wasn’t
the first time he’d said something along those lines. I walked back around the couch and carefully sat down, eyeing him. I knew what I was about to ask was completely out of my league, but whatever. “What exactly do you do all day?”

I
t was an honest question
. He didn’t have to have a normal job, but I figured he had other things to keep him busy. He had a few projects, some businesses I’d heard about throughout the years, but apparently he also had a lot of time to spare. So what did he do when he wasn’t at practice?

H
e kept his attention forward
, but I could see the way the shoulder closest to me tightened. His answer was simple. “Nothing.”

“
Y
ou have nothing to do
?”

“
N
o
.” He amended his answer, “A few emails and phone calls, nothing significant.”

“
D
on’t
you have businesses and other stuff?”

“
Y
es and I
have managers that handle everything so that I don’t have to. I’ve minimized my obligations recently.”

T
hat sounded
… awful.

“
Y
ou could do
things if you wanted to,” I offered lamely. “Community service, get a hobby…”

K
ulti shrugged his shoulders
.

T
hat didn’t help
me feel any less weird about how bored he must be. Not having things to do drove me nuts. How could it not drive him crazy too? To stay in his house all day…

I
suddenly remembered
the night I picked him up from the bar. All right, so maybe he didn’t stay in his house all day. Regardless, a lot of things suddenly made sense. Why he played softball, asked me to play soccer with him, why he was in my apartment.

T
his sense
of obligation stirred in my chest. But I didn’t say anything or do anything. Mainly because I wasn’t planning on forgetting what he’d admitted.

T
here was
such a thing as too much too soon, wasn’t there?

L
eaning back
against the couch for a few more minutes, I kept the thought in my head. “In that case, you’re going to have to grab one of my hats before we leave.”

“
W
hy
?”

“
B
ecause my doctor
is a fan of yours.” He had a framed jersey in his office.

H
e cocked an eyebrow
.

“
Y
our picture will be
all over the internet before you leave,” I explained. “Then everyone will ask what you were doing at a doctor’s appointment with me, and the next thing I know everyone will say I’m pregnant with your baby.”

K
ulti huffed
. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

H
e was right
. I could remember at least a few times over the years that some tabloid or magazine reported that he’d impregnated someone he’d been seen with. They speculated on a new relationship every time he stood next to a woman.

T
hen there had been
his divorce.

I
t’d been bad
.
Bad
. People had put a timeline on his marriage from the moment pictures had been released, which at the time, I thought had been one of the worst days of my life. My first love—this asshole who now called me Taco now—had married some tall, skinny, beautiful bitch.

A
ll right
maybe she wasn’t a bitch, but back then you couldn’t have paid me money to think otherwise.

E
xactly one year
after his huge spectacle of a wedding, his divorce papers to the Swedish horror-flick actress were filed. Rumors of them cheating on each other, of him starting and ending relationships before things were finalized, talk of an insane pre-nuptial agreement, flooded tabloids and entertainment channels alike. The real kicker had been that the team he’d been playing for that year hadn’t even qualified for the finals. People had ripped Kulti apart. I mean,
ripped his ass open
.

W
hile I’d initially forced
myself not to follow his career, not to look him up on websites, or even pay attention when his name was brought up, it’d been impossible to ignore all the drama, despite how much I wanted to.

T
hen he’d come back
the next season and won a championship.

I
hadn’t watched
or paid attention to the European League that year, or the two following. By that point, I was too focused on myself and my career. Reiner Kulti had become someone who had nothing to do with me.

“
T
hat’s
the price of fame, huh?” I asked, feeling a stab of pain right through my chest. It really shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. It was weird how even now, when I was fully aware there would never be anything between us, my body still had a severe possessive streak in it. He’d gotten married to someone, and pledged his life to another person.

B
ah
. I didn’t have time for this crap.

K
ulti’s cheek
ticked like he was remembering everything he’d been through too. It wasn’t like he was a talkative forthcoming person to begin with, but when he answered with one word, I figured it was still a touchy subject for him. “Yes,” was the only thing he said.

A
ll right
. I cleared my throat and sang under my breath, “Tough shit, frankfurter.”

T
here was
a pause before he let out a snicker. “Sal, I don’t know how you haven’t gotten elbowed in the face yet.”

I
opened
my mouth and pressed the tip of my tongue behind my upper teeth for a second. “One, at least I tell you things to your face and not behind your back. And two, I have gotten elbowed in the face. Multiple times.” I pointed at a scar right smack on my cheekbone, then the underside of my chin and lastly right above my eyebrow. “So, suck on that, pretzel face.”

T
o be fair
, he was fast, but I also wasn’t expecting it.

T
he couch cushion
hit me right in the face.

“
S
al
, I haven’t you see here in forever,” the receptionist on the other side of the window said as I handed her a clipboard with my paperwork, driver’s license and medical card.

“
Y
ou make
it sound like that’s not a good thing,” I told her with a smile.

S
he winked
. “We’ll call you in for your x-rays in a few.”

I
nodded
at the older woman and smiled at the couple waiting patiently behind me. I walked back to my seat in the corner of the room where the German was sitting with the television remote in his hand, flicking through channels on the mounted flat-screen. I muffled a groan as I sat, my hands gripping the armrests on the journey down.

H
e was eyeing me
, only slightly shaking his head.

“
W
hat
?”

H
e looked down
, whether at my hands or the v-neck T-shirt I had pulled on I wasn’t sure, and then returned his gaze to my face. “You.”

“
B
e quiet
. The last time I took time off from training was when my grandfather died. I don’t play hooky without a good reason.” I blew a long breath out of my mouth and stayed upright, back straight, hands braced to help me up when they called my name.

H
e reached
over and smacked the side of my knee with the back of his hand. “I’ll be back.”

I
opened
my mouth and let a huge grin take over my face, the action halting him halfway up. The only reason I didn’t laugh was because it would hurt, but I still snorted. “Okay, Arnold.”

K
ulti didn’t look particularly impressed
. “He’s Austrian, not German, you little shit,” he deadpanned, his face saying I was annoying him, but his eyes said thought I was a little funny.

B
esides
, I hadn’t meant that I thought Arnold was German, but if it annoyed him, it was all the same.

S
tretching
up to his full height, he hit my knee with his and made his way out of the small reception area in the direction of the restroom. I pulled my phone out of the black leather purse my parents had bought me for Christmas and started typing a message to Marc. I let him know I made it to my appointment, and I’d be going in for an x-ray pretty soon. I hadn’t screwed him over too bad today by taking the day off, there wasn’t anything terrible on the schedule, but still. I felt bad, even if he was the one who told me I better not tag along until I knew for sure I wouldn’t be doing more damage to myself by working.

“
D
o
you mind turning the volume up?”

I
glanced
up from my phone to see the man who had been behind me checking in with his wife, looking expectantly from his seat across the room. He was referring to the television. “Sure,” I said, taking the remote from Kulti’s empty seat and absently raising the volume on the television.

I
t took
me a second to realize what the topic on television was for today.

“…
i
t isn’t
the first time money’s bought one of these guys out of trouble. How many times do their handlers hide things that they don’t want the public to find out about? There are employees for every big sport you can think of, who follow these superstar athletes around, dragging them back to their hotels after an entire night spent at a strip club or partying. Some fans don’t want to hear about their favorite athletes doing normal, human things. Honestly, I’m not surprised if there is a DUI on Kulti’s record that no one can find solid proof of it. The guy is a German national hero, even if half the country hates his guts. After the two seasons he spent with the Men’s American League, he’s practically an American hero—“

I
changed the channel
, my heart beating up in my throat.

J
esus Christ
. They were discussing him having a DUI on freaking
Sports Room
? Didn’t they have anything better to talk about?

“
E
xcuse me
. You mind putting it back?” the man across the room asked.

I
was suddenly unbelievably
thankful that I’d told Kulti he needed to put on one of my hats before we left my apartment. Feeling like a little bit of a dick, I shook my head. “In a minute. I’m sorry.”

T
he stranger couldn’t believe
I said no, and honestly I was surprised I’d said it too. But when it came down to it, I would rather this stranger think I was rude than Kulti walk over and see that crap playing. He hadn’t been acting weird so I didn’t think he knew he was being talked about on cable television, but what did I know?

“
A
re
you the TV police or something?” the stranger asked with a frown.