Kulti (29 page)

“These are pictures of you and one of the team’s star players on one of the most popular tabloid websites in the world,” Mr. Cordero explained in a cool voice that sounded just shy of crossing the edge into smart-ass town.

In what would begin two of the most unreal moments of my life, Kulti crossed his muscular arms—so lean, I could see veins crisscrossing his forearms and one or two running up his biceps—and shrugged. “What I see is a picture of me taking my friend to the doctor.”

“Your friend?” Cordero asked in disbelief.

“That’s what I said,” Kulti snapped back. His volume was low but there wasn’t any mistaking his irritation with the conversation.

Mr. Cordero turned to me, like I could possibly be handling Reiner Kulti calling me his friend in front of three Pipers staff, well. “You’re friends?” It wasn’t my imagination that he sounded like a bit more of an ass when he’d been speaking to me than he had when speaking to the German. Then again, I wasn’t some country’s national icon.

I nodded at the Pipers’ general manager, my emotions twisted into knots at Kulti’s admission. “Yes.” We were friends when he wasn’t getting on my nerves at least.

“Friends,” he said absently. “What kind of friends?”

Yeah, I wanted to smack him. I mean I knew what it looked like, but
seriously?
I’d given up so much for the Pipers, and he would think that I’d do something to jeopardize the only part of soccer I really had left? My face flushed red as I tried to talk myself out of saying something that could only hurt my career more than it already had been.

I knew what he was trying to do, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let this man who worked in an office make me out to seem like I didn’t take this job seriously. “We are the kinds of friends that have a lot of things in common.” Jesus Christ.

Before I could say anything else logical, the German cut in with his response. “The greatest kind. I don’t understand why that’s a problem.”

If I was one to swoon, I would have, but instead I let my brain react to his comment instead of my heart. Had I been expecting him to denounce me? Yeah, I guess I had.

All right. Okay.

He’d still been a dick a few days before. What he said didn’t change anything.

“There isn’t a problem or a reason for us to be here,” the German stated in a way that left little room to argue. “You were well aware of the media coverage my coming here would bring, and you wanted me here either way. You can’t pick and choose what people publish.”

Sheena let out a tight laugh. “Mr. Kulti, it doesn’t look good—“

“You can’t tell me who I can or can’t be friends with,” he cut her off. “It doesn’t really matter what something looks like if it isn’t what it truly is, no?”

Wait a second, that sounded sort of familiar…

Sheena turned her attention to me, her face slightly flushed. “Sal, with your history—“

This bitch started to go there. I needed to cut it short. “I haven’t done anything wrong in this case. If I had I wouldn’t have a problem taking responsibility for my actions. He’s my friend and there isn’t anything inappropriate about our friendship. I have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

The sting of guilt that I
hadn’t
told anyone about him was there, but I would swear I had only kept it to myself because I didn’t want this type of attention. There were some things people couldn’t understand, and obviously this was one of them.

Kulti uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his face even further away from the back of the chair. “This wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for the PR issues going on with me at this moment. There’s nothing here that is worth us having a conversation. She’s my best friend—“

I shot him a look out of the corner of my eye, reminding him of the shit that had come out of his mouth outside my apartment. It said
is that how best friends treat each other? Really?

Apparently he saw my facial expression and didn’t care that I wasn’t feeling particularly friendly at that point. “Nothing any of you say is going to change that. That’s the end of the story. If there’s something else you want, call my manager.”

“Sal—“

I was torn between panicking at why they were making a big deal out of this and debating whether or not it was worth standing up for myself. “They’re just pictures of us getting into his car,” I argued halfheartedly, unsure what route I needed to take.

I was a good player, one of the most consistent on the team, but the truth was everyone was replaceable. I couldn’t afford to act like a diva, but at the same time the little voice inside of my head wanted me to tell these people—and by people I really meant Cordero—to fuck off.

“Miss Casillas, I think you’ve made it clear your decision-making skills are nothing to—“ Cordero began ranting.

Kulti lurched forward in his seat, and I felt my eyes go wide at his defensive posture. “I’m going to tell you right now that you don’t want to finish that sentence.”

Gardner coughed. “There’s no reason for anyone to get bent out of shape. I believe you, Sal, if you say that you’re friends, you’re friends. You’ve never given me a reason to not trust you. I think we can all agree that we want this season to go smoothly or at least smoother than it has been going.”

“This is my fault. I will take responsibility for the negative attention, but I won’t let you put the blame on her for befriending me,” Kulti said. “Sal has done nothing wrong.”

“I don’t think you all understand. This doesn’t look good,” Sheena said quickly, before anyone cut her off. “Do you think you could… I don’t know, Mr. Kulti, I’m just throwing out ideas for you to talk to your publicist about, but… do something publicly to pull rumors away from… this… friendship?”

“Go on a date?”

Kulti didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“But—“

“No,” he repeated.

Sheena’s desperate eyes met mine. “Sal, what about you? Could you go on a date? Post some pictures—“

“No.”

That was definitely not me that answered her. It was Kulti who answered almost angrily. I let him.

“Sal—“

“No.” That was Kulti again. “Absolutely not.”

“But—“

“Stop asking,” the German snapped. “I’m not doing it and neither is she.”

“I’ve done just about everything that’s ever been asked of me. I don’t want to do this,” I explained gingerly, trying to ease over the hostility radiating off the man next to me.

Cordero guffawed.

Ten minutes later, I found Kulti waiting outside of Gardner’s office. Mr. Cordero had left first, with the German following immediately afterward. Sheena stayed in the office to discuss something. What else could it be besides me or the German?

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Kulti’s deep, heavy voice assured me.

I scratched my forehead, trying to urge away the frustration I felt at the conversation that had just finished up. A nasty nagging feeling had taken up residence in my belly. This wasn’t sitting well with me, and honestly I was really worried they were going to try and find something to use against me. I wasn’t sure why I felt so pessimistic, but I did.

An elbow nudged at mine. “Stop worrying,” he ordered.

I blinked at him and didn’t even think about pulling my elbow away. He’d called me his best friend; I’d give him half-credit for that… though he was still a douche. “I can’t,” I whispered to him as we approached the elevator in the office building. “Cordero doesn’t play around. He isn’t a fan of mine.”

Kulti made this face that told me I needed to chill out. “He’s like every general manager on every team. He thinks he’s a god and he’s not.” He nudged my elbow once more. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

My stomach and my head said otherwise. Nerves had started eating up my organs. “I don’t want to get traded, and I don’t want them to bench me.”

I wasn’t going to have a panic attack. I wasn’t going to have a panic attack.

This wasn’t going to be like the national team all over again. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

I pressed my hands against my hips and squeezed, willing myself to calm down.

“Sal.” Kulti stood right in front of me. “Nothing is going to happen. I won’t let them do anything, understand?”

My knees started to shake the same way they did when I was in front of a camera. Oh God, I was going to throw up. Sometime in the last two minutes I had started sweating.

“Sal,” the German’s voice got even louder, more determined. His big hands landed on my shoulders. “No one is going to make you do anything that you don’t want to do. “ He kneaded the muscle there, his voice a gentle reassuring cadence. “I promise.”

It was the ‘I promise’ that had me glance up at him; I felt this huge ugly knot of dread creep up to the center of my chest. “I like it here.”

His green-brown eyes seemed so close to mine. “Remember all that money I made?”

The urge to punch him in the gut was still there, but instead I nodded. “What about it?”

“I can afford the best lawyers.”

“You want me to sue them?” I coughed out.

“If it’s necessary.”

Holy shit. “I don’t want to. I just want to play, here.”

“I know.” He gave my shoulders a squeeze. “If it comes to it,” the German continued, “we’ll worry about it. You’re the best player on the team. They won’t get rid of you.”

Another shot to the heart. Jesus Christ. The best player on the team? I felt greedy, like I needed to gobble up all these nice things and store them for a rainy day when he called me a slow-ass, or even one day when I was older and couldn’t play anymore. I could think back and remember the day the five-time World Player of the Year, The King, told me I was the best player on my team.

He shook my arm. “Yes?”

I nodded, still the slightest bit unsure. “Yes.”

Kulti nodded and blew out a breath. There were dark circles under his clear eyes, and he looked conflicted. “When I get angry I have a hard time controlling what I say,” he said, his chin tipping down.

“Oh, I know. Trust me.” I blinked. “Or don’t.”

The German gave an exaggerated sigh. “You are my best friend.”

I started to make a face like ‘yeah, right.’ Me? His best friend? I’d take ‘friend’. I took the title in the office because it seemed like such a monumental thing to say in order to get me out of trouble.

But… as soon as I started to make a face, I stopped. Kulti wasn’t a man that wasted his words, so… “You have a horrible way of showing it.”

“I know.” But he didn’t apologize. “I’ve done a great deal of things I regret now, and it’s difficult for me at times to cope with them.”

My eyes narrowed, curiosity prickling at me. I might never get a chance to encounter an apologetic Reiner Kulti again. Taking a quick look around, I made sure there wasn’t another person within listening distance and I whispered, “Did you really get a DUI?”

Answering the question wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped it would be, but with a great gulp, Kulti tipped his chin down.

Well. That wasn’t exactly shocking. He’d been blitzed out of his mind when I’d picked him up from that bar months ago. People made mistakes all the time. He had a right to make them as much as the next person. “Okay,” I told him simply. “Thank you for telling me.”

His gaze flickered from one of my eyes to the other before he took a shallow breath and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the force. “I was in a bad place after I retired,” he explained in that low voice that I liked, unexpectedly. “I was very angry and I picked up a bad habit I’m not proud of.”

I nodded slowly, still keeping an eye out to make sure no one was around. “Do you need help?” I whispered.

Kulti’s eye started to twitch, but he shook his head. “I’ve been sober for over a year.”

I closed one eye and made a face. His timeframe was debatable.

“With the exception of that one day, I have no problem not drinking, but once I start…” Kulti knuckled his brow bone. This
was
hard for him to admit. Who wanted to admit their failures? Not me. Definitely not him. “I let myself down, and I know there are people that this news could disappoint even more. There won’t be any bars in my future anymore either way. I would rather stay home.” He nudged me. “Or at your home.”

Yeah, I was a total sucker, forgiving people way too easily.

My facial expression must have said that because he nudged me again. “You and I fight, yes? It’s in our nature. I think you should get used to the idea.” The corners of his mouth tipped up just a bit. “Are we fine now?” he asked earnestly, expectantly.

Were we? I knew what the polite thing to say would be, but I wasn’t a liar. At least I wasn’t usually. I told Kulti the truth. “Mostly. You’re still a jackass for what you said, but I’ll forgive you because I know you were upset and some people say things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment. So as long as you don’t say something so stupid again, I can live with it this once, Reindeer.”

The look he gave me was blank for so long, I wasn’t expecting him to react the way he did. I thought for sure he’d argue with me some more about how I needed to get over being pissed at him, however small the amount.

He didn’t.

Instead almost a minute after I finished talking, the doors were opening to the main level of the office building; Kulti burst out laughing. I swear he said something like “Reindeer” under his monster laughs.

“
H
ey
, Gen. Good morning,” I said to Genevieve as she walked by me the afternoon of our next game, two days after the meeting in Gardner’s office.

The younger girl, who had always been friendly with me, kept on going. Her eyebrows went up as she walked by and that was that.

Now, I didn’t think too much about it. I was used to being around girls. Girls with all kinds of reactions to their periods: the ones who got unnaturally angry, the ones that cried, girls who retreated within themselves, the ones who wanted to stuff their face all day—all those and more. It wasn’t a big deal. Mood swings, been there done that.

I figured maybe she was having a crappy day or something. There was also the possibility she was on her period. Who knows.

Not even fifteen minutes later, right at the beginning of the team’s warm-up, I overheard someone behind me. “Did you see the pictures?”

I couldn’t exactly pinpoint the person speaking, and I didn’t want to turn around until I heard a little more. It wasn’t like there were any other pictures besides mine and Kulti’s, but whatever.

“What pictures?” the other voice asked in a regular volume.

A second later, the original speaker said “Shut up,” and was then followed up by “Ouch.”

Now speaking in a lower voice, the second person asked, “What pictures?” in a whisper.

“The ones of—“ there was a pause, “and Kulti.”

“What? No. What of?” the second voice asked.

There was another pause followed by “—was coming out of some building with him, and it shows them getting into his car.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s—“ pause “—for sure. I heard they had a meeting with Cordero and Gardner about it and that they didn’t deny it—“

I felt awkward, so, so awkward. Even after I made myself stop listening to what they were saying, I still felt aggravated. It had already begun, the rumors and the stretched truths. The urge to turn around and tell them that wasn’t exactly how it’d gone was overwhelming, but I had to practice what I preached.

I hadn’t done anything.

The only problem was that the longer practice went on, the more I felt the weight of multiple stares on me. I overheard a few of the whispers. It wasn’t every girl, but it was enough of my teammates to make me feel dirty,

I knew that I hadn’t done anything to be embarrassed about and Kulti knew that we hadn’t, so it shouldn’t matter what everyone else thought.

If I reminded myself of it enough, it was easier to ignore the girls that gave me funny looks.

Besides the looks and the whispers, practice went okay. The last game before our week off, on the other hand, didn’t go so well. We lost in overtime. The locker room was filled with disappointment afterward. It wasn’t until the coaching staff had left and I’d started changing, intent on showering once I got back to my place, that Jenny saddled up next to me on our way out.

The expression on her face prepared me for what was going to come out of her mouth. “Sal, I didn’t want to say anything but some of the girls are talking about you.”

I gave her a smile over my shoulder that I wasn’t totally feeling. “I know.”

That didn’t make her look any less concerned.

“It’s fine, Jen. I promise. I haven’t done anything I shouldn’t have, and I’m not going to run around defending myself.”

“I know.” Her dark almond-shaped eyes were long. “I don’t like hearing them say things about you.”

My neck got all hot. “Me neither. It doesn’t matter though.” I looked my friend in the face, understanding that she really did believe me when I said I hadn’t done anything with the German. At least someone knew better. “You know I didn’t and I know, and I’m okay with that.”

Jenny pressed her lips together and nodded stiffly. “If there’s anything I can do—“

“Don’t worry about it, really. There’s nothing to get mixed up in. They’ll get over it.” Or they wouldn’t. Blah. But I wasn’t about to let people who would so easily talk about me behind my back get me down.

And wasn’t that kind of shitty? I would have done just about anything for the girls on the team, even if it was someone I wasn’t close to. Yet here they were, gossiping like I hadn’t worked with most of them, trying to help them improve, or trying to motivate everyone when we needed it. On top of that, someone within that group was the person that had thrown me under the bus with Cordero weeks ago.

Whatever.
Whatever
. I’d been through this before, but this time I wasn’t going to let guilt get the best of me. I had nothing to feel guilty about.

My friend made a face before slipping an arm over my shoulder as we walked. “I know who’s gotten a nose job,” she offered. “I also know who has a yeast infection. What you do with that is up to you.”

I started laughing and hugged her back. “That’s all right, but thanks anyway.”

Jenny eventually dropped her arm as we got out to the parking lot. Her face still held worried lines at her mouth but she changed the subject. “Are you still going home for the break?”

“Yeah, it’s my dad’s birthday and I haven’t been back in a while. You?”

She undid her high ponytail and let her long, black hair fall down her shoulders. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. We have a couple of exhibition games coming up in a few days. I won’t be back for almost two weeks.” The ‘we’ she was referring to was the national team.

I was a supporter of Jenny and Harlow, and I always rooted for them. But for once in a long time, I felt a twinge of something like grief.

“Fun,” I told her, only half-meaning it. I mustered up some enthusiasm for the person that was always supportive of me. “I’ll make sure Harlow tells Amber I said hi,” I said with an evil smile that made Jenny snort.

“You’re bad.”

I smacked her butt. “Only when I need to be.”

T
he familiar knock
that I’d come to associate with Kulti started up at seven-fifteen the next morning. I’d already been awake for almost an hour and a half, finishing up my morning run and making it home to pack my bag before showering so that I could head out on my drive to San Antonio. The last thing I expected was for the German to show up on my doorstep, especially not at seven in the morning.

I grabbed a sweatshirt off the pile of clothes on my bed with every intention of putting it on when the knocking became even more persistent.
Impatient ass.
I carried it to the door with a sigh, not even bothering to check the peephole.

“Bratwurst?” I asked as I undid the deadbolt again.

“
Ja
.”

I swung the door wide and started to wave him in, only slowing down my movement when I noticed what he was wearing—a shirt, jeans and scuffed brown leather boots. It was the first time I’d seen him in something that wasn’t workout pants or shorts. Huh. A second later, I noticed something else.

There was a backpack was over his shoulder.

And he was staring at me.

I didn’t miss the tic in his jaw as he looked from the seven-year-old tank top I had on over my sports bra to the stretchy shorts that looked more like underwear than anything else.

I also didn’t miss the way his eyelid started twitching right before his gaze finally slipped upward and the twitching got worse.

“What?” I asked him when he hadn’t moved his body or his gaze.

Those murky green eyes flicked down to what I was wearing again. His voice was too steady and slow. “You open the door half naked all the time?”

Oh dear God. “Yeah, Dad.” I blinked at him and stood off the to the side to give him room to come in. “You coming in—“ I eyed his bag again “—or are you leaving?”

“I’m leaving,” he said even as he walked into my place, still giving my workout clothes this disapproving scowl.

“Where are you going?” I closed the door behind him.

Kulti dropped his bag right by my work boots. “To Austin.”

“Really? Why?” I mean, I liked Austin as much as anyone. I’d been there a hundred times in my life, but it wasn’t my favorite city in the world. I wouldn’t expect this guy to want to spend his days off in Austin when he could afford to go just about anywhere.

The German made his way toward my kitchen and straight to the cupboards, pulling out a mug. “I have an appointment this afternoon.”

Why the first thing I thought he was referring to was plastic surgery, I had no idea. I planted my hands on the counter between us and leaned forward, giving him a disbelieving look. “
No
.”

He glanced over his shoulder as he found a small pot and began filling it up with water from my fridge. “Yes?”

“Rey, buddy, don’t do it. You’re still really handsome, and honestly you can always tell when someone’s had surgery done to them. I don’t care what the plastic surgeon says, it’s noticeable,” I told him totally seriously.

He set the pot down on the stovetop but he didn’t turn the burner on. His broad shoulders slumped forward as he lifted a hand and pinched the tip of his nose. When he turned around to face me, his eyes were closed and the tip of his tongue was at the corner of his mouth. “Burrito.” He opened one eye. “I’m getting my tattoo worked on.”

“Ohh.” Well, I felt like an idiot.

He nodded, the movement all smart-ass.

“The one on your arm?” It was the only one I knew of.

He nodded again.

Why he was going all the way to Austin when there were about a million tattoo shops in Houston was beyond me, but whatever. “That’s neat. I’m going back home.” I then realized he didn’t know what ‘home’ was to me. “San Antonio. It’s close to Austin.”

Kulti shocked the shit out of me when he said “I know. I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to take me to Austin.”

“What?”

“I will pay you a thousand dollars to take me to Austin.” He gestured with his head toward the bag that had been left by the door. “Gas as well.”

I scratched my nose, trying to make sure he wasn’t joking. My gut said he wasn’t. He definitely wasn’t. “You want me to drive you to Austin for your appointment?” I couldn’t help but ask.

The German nodded.

“All right.” I narrowed my eyes at him, debating how to go about this and deciding there was no pretty way. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a bad friend who doesn’t appreciate your generous offer, but… why don’t you have your driver take you?”

“His daughter’s birthday is today,” he explained.

“And you want me to drive you, even though you could just pay someone else less money to take you?” I asked slowly.

“Yes.”

Oh brother. The lazy part of me that was dead set on spending four days with my parents, didn’t want to drive Kulti around. Then the other half of me felt bad telling him no. “I was planning on spending the weekend at my parents’, I can’t drive you back here right after your appointment.”

He lifted up a single bulky shoulder. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Score one for Sal being a fucking douche bag.

He didn’t have anything else to do.

Why did that make me feel so shitty?

But I couldn’t let him make me feel bad. I couldn’t back out on my parents. “Rey, I’m spending the weekend there. I can’t drive you back. I already promised them I would go.”

“I heard you the first time,” he replied in a tone I was not a fan of. “I said I don’t have anything else to do. I’ll stay with you.”

He’d stay—

He’d stay with me?

An image of my dad fainting flashed through my mind.

“Stay with me at my parents’?”

He lifted another lazy shoulder. “Yes.”

“For the weekend?”

The smart-ass rolled his eyes. “
Ja
.”

Snarky bastard.

“Is that a problem?” he asked after a moment of me not saying anything.

I cleared my throat and thought of my dad again. “Remember my dad was a big fan of yours?” He nodded. “He’s a huge fan, you have to understand that if you want to go and—“ I gulped, “stay with them. He might faint and act like he doesn’t speak English the entire weekend.” Then I thought about it. “And stare, he might stare at you and not say a word.”

The German seemed to think about it for all of five seconds before he shrugged, like none of what I said would bother him at all. Not even a little bit. “Yes. Fine.”

I took a deep breath because I suddenly couldn’t comprehend what I had just signed myself up for. “Are you sure?” I asked him slowly.

He gave me a look right before turning back to grab the pot again. “Yes. Now go shower and put on something that covers you up more.”

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Not a single freaking clue.

“
S
o
, why did you decide to come here instead of some place in Houston?” I asked nearly nine hours later as I pulled my car into a parking spot in front of the nice building Kulti’s phone had directed us to.

We hadn’t left my place until a little after ten, since there was no point in us rushing around because his appointment wasn’t until four. The drive was a little less than three hours. To kill time we stopped for lunch at one of my favorite barbecue places along the way, stopped and walked around the Capitol and visited a dollar store. Kulti had asked in the office supply section, “Everything costs one dollar?” Then he proceeded to inspect every item we came across.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he gave me another look still clearly insulted that I had assumed he was getting cosmetic surgery earlier. “I saw their work in a magazine.”

That was all the information he gave me. All right.

We got out of the car and made our way toward the door inscribed with ‘Pins and Needles’ in classy simple font. Kulti reached forward and opened it. In the back of my head, I’d figured the German wouldn’t have chosen some seedy place where you’d probably get crabs if you sat on the toilet, so I wasn’t surprised by how clean and modern-looking the tattoo parlor was. Heavy metal played softly in the background.

A redheaded man was sitting behind the black desk at the front, working on something with a pencil. He looked up when we went in and gave us a friendly smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”