Kulti (50 page)

I sat up completely, wrapping an arm around my breasts as I sat there, taking in his breathless, handsome face almost twenty years after I’d first fallen in love with it. The sun, time and life had made him classier.

The thought weighed my conscience down.

Kulti stroked my arm with one hand. “It’s been a long time,” he apologized, tracing a pattern only he saw on my skin. “And you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

I screwed up my face and snorted a little, not letting myself think of all the gorgeous women he’d been with over the years.

He slid his index finger straight up between my collarbones, a thoughtful look on his features that didn’t make me feel any better. Was he remembering all of the amazing boobs he’d seen in his life? Gross.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his fingertip curving over bones, tendons and scars.

“About all the boobs you’ve seen before,” I told him honestly, my throat clogging up in anger I had no right to feel.

He glanced up quicker than I thought was possible, his mouth tight at the corners in a frown.

“I know I don’t have a right to say anything about things that happened before we met, but it’s a little hard for me. If something isn’t to par, think about my scissor kick. I’ve heard some guys tell me it’s boner-worthy,” I offered with a smile.

The frown on his face melted right off. “Sal.”

“I’m just kidding. Mostly.” I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. What was I doing? I needed to tell him the truth.

With a sigh, I stood up and pulled my bra on.

Fingers touched my lower back. “What’s wrong?”

What was wrong? Bah. Why hadn’t I told him yet? He needed to know. It made me feel like a fake after everything that had happened. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

I started to reach for my shirt when he swung his legs off the couch and stopped me with a hand to my arm.

Sitting up straight, I tucked my hands between my thighs, elbow tight to my sides and focused my gaze on my knees. I tried to think of the words I’d planned since my dad had accused me of being a chicken. Not sounding like a stalker was a lot harder than it seemed, especially when I could still taste him in my mouth.

What if—

No what-ifs. I just needed to do it. I really did.

“I used to have a huge crush on you when I was a kid,” I started, warming him up. “Up until I was about seventeen, there were posters of you all over my room. “ In for a penny, in for a pound. All right. I could do this. Honesty mattered. “I was in love with you. I told everyone I was going to marry you someday.

“You were my idol, Rey. I kept playing soccer because of you.”

I rubbed my hand over my eyebrow, still keeping my gaze forward on the coffee table. It wasn’t like I was telling him something crazy. Every girl I’d ever known had crushed on a celebrity at some point, but… I’d just had his penis in my mouth. I should have told him earlier. I should have told him a long time ago.

Pressing down on my eyebrow, I kept going. “I should have told you before but I didn’t want to. It took me long enough to talk to you, and by the time I could do it like a normal person and not like a fan-girl, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want you to look at me differently. I
don’t
want you to. I’m sorry. It was a long time ago and I’d been just a kid back then.”

There was silence. Total silence.

And I thought to myself,
this is over.
Our friendship was done. Any hope I had of… well, that was done with too. But what could I do? Nothing. I couldn’t take it back. When I was a kid, I had no idea I’d ever meet Reiner Kulti, much less become friends with him. I definitely had no idea that I would ever fall in love with the human version of him, the real man. Unfortunately, you can’t turn back time and change the past.

Then again, would I want to? I’d gotten to where I was because I’d idolized him, because I had wanted to be him. What the hell else would I be doing if it hadn’t been for him and that damn Altus Cup when I was seven?

Goosebumps rose up on my arms as I sat straight and lunged for my shirt again, pulling it on as the German shifted in his seat right next to me.

I had just tugged it down over my stomach when he shoved his cell phone into my hand with a single order. “Look.”

Big Girl Socks on, I cast a single glance at his face but he had that same blank expression, the cool one. I looked down at what he was showing me on the screen. It was a picture of something.

“Take a closer look.”

I took the phone from him and brought it up to my face, enlarging the image to see what he wanted to show me. It was a picture of a picture. Well, of a drawing to be exact. It was an orange sheet of construction paper with big, black words written in a little kid’s handwriting.

Wait a second.

I looked even closer, blowing up the image more.

It was the little kid version of my handwriting.

Dear Mr. Kulti,

You are my favorite player. I play soccer 2 butt I’m not good like you are. Not yet. I practice all the time so 1 day I can be just like you or beter. I watch all of ur games so don’t mess up.

Ur #1 fan,

Sal

<3 <3 <3

P.S. Do u have a girl friend?

P.P.S. Why don’t u cut ur hair?

“I was nineteen when that showed up to the club’s offices. It was my third fan letter ever and the other two were topless pictures,” he said in his low, steady voice. “That letter stayed in every locker I used for the next ten years. It was the first thing I looked at before my games, and the first thing I saw after I played. I framed it and put it in my house in Meissen once it started to wear out. It’s still there on the wall of my bedroom.”

Oh my God.

“You didn’t put a return address on the envelope, you know. It only had your street’s name and Texas on it. I was never able to write you back because it wouldn’t have made it, but I would have, Sal,” he said.

Looking at the picture reminded me so clearly of writing it, so many years ago.

He had kept it.

“I still have the three others you sent me.”

If I was someone who swooned, or whatever kind of crap happened to people when they were in shock, I would have been doing it. This was… there was no word for what this was. “Did you know it was me when you took the position here?” I asked, still looking at the picture.

“No. I didn’t realize it until you introduced yourself in Gardner’s office. I couldn’t believe it. I knew your last name from the videos of your playing but I didn’t know your first name,” he explained. “I only remembered your first name from your letters.”

Good grief.

“So you’ve always known?” My voice cracked a little at the last word.

“Did I know you’d been my number one fan once?” he asked, nudging my rib enough so that I looked up at him. A gentle look replaced his harsh, usually brooding features. “Yes, I knew. If I would have paid attention the first day of practice, I would have figured it out sooner. And then you cussed me out—“

“I did not cuss you out.”

“—and I understood that you’d grown up.” Kulti rubbed my lower back. “I take so much pride in knowing you’ve become the player you are because you looked up to me, Sal. It’s the greatest compliment I’ve ever been paid.”

Bah.

He kept right on going, oblivious to my heart shooting off fireworks. “I’ve met enough people in my life that I can recognize who wants to know me for the right reason and for the wrong reason. I have trust issues, you know that. It took me time to figure out that you were someone I could trust, but it didn’t take that long. I know
you
. I know that someone who will defend her father and risk losing her career is someone I can trust, someone that I can respect. Loyalty is one of the most precious things I’ve ever encountered. You don’t know the things people would do to get ahead, and I would bet my life you would never turn your back on anyone that needed you.

“Every single thing that has ever happened in my life has led me here, Sal. Destiny is a ladder, a series of steps that takes you where you’re supposed to go. I am the man that I am, and I have done the things that I’ve done, to get me to you.”

What do you say to that? To a man that kept your childhood letter for half a lifetime and mentioned you and destiny in the same sentence?

I bit the inside of my cheek and leveled a look at him. “Are you sure you don’t care? I used to kiss your posters. Now that I think about it, I’m really surprised no one in my family spilled the beans and said something.”

Rey palmed my face. “Not at all.”

“
I
was really
sad to hear you ladies lost last night,” the front desk employee said as he handed me a visitor’s pass.

I’d have to give myself a pat on the back later for not even wincing at the reminder. Somehow I managed to shrug, pinning the pass to the bottom of my T-shirt. That damn Pipers and Wreckers mural above the desk taunted me. “Me too.”

“I’m sure y’all will get ‘em next year, don’t you worry about it,” the nice man suggested as I put my bag over my shoulder to go through security and up the elevator.

“Hope so. Thanks,” I told him before giving him another smile and continuing up the stairs.

Really, I did hope the Pipers would win next season. It would be great for them.

All right, I’d be fine if they didn’t, but I wouldn’t be mad if they did.

I’d been doing a lot of thinking since talking to Rey the night before, and even though I wanted to vomit at the insecure point my life was in, I realized I really was doing the best thing for me by leaving the WPL. If it were up to Cordero and the rest of the coaches who hadn’t given me a second thought, I would never play for another Altus Cup.

Or screw it, for a gold medal. Why not?

If I moved, played somewhere else and got my nationality…

Why not?

If
I moved. But I wasn’t going to worry or psych myself out too much. Things happened if they were meant to happen and if they didn’t, I’d figure out something else.

What I was doing now was moving on with this stage in my life, and I was surprisingly more than okay with it.

I found the equipment manager’s office halfway down the hall on the Pipers floor. She was inside and looked a little surprised to see me, but she took my things and said she’d see me later. So apparently, the news hadn’t gotten around that I was out.

This was all was totally fine. There was only one other person I’d want to see before I left, and his office was two doors down. It sure as hell wasn’t Cordero either. I had no interest in seeing that miserable man ever again. Plus I wasn’t sure if he was aware Rey had lied about rejoining the team or not, and I didn’t want to hear about it. His part with me was done. The German had already assured me once more that I didn’t have to worry about him. His money gave him a great legal team, so he said.

Legal team. Jesus. That’s what I’d gotten myself into. He didn’t just have a lawyer, but a whole legal team. God.

You only live once, right?

Gardner was in his office with the door open when I stopped by. I knocked twice. He looked only slightly frazzled as he typed away on his keyboard, frowning when he saw it was me. “Sal. Come in,” he waved me forward. “Shut the door.”

I closed the door behind me and took a seat across from him, hands on my knees.

“Where were you last night?” he asked first thing.

“I left right after the game. Sorry. I just wasn’t in the mood,” I explained truthfully, taking in his tired features. “Are you all right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Same old hell as usual from Cordero, it’s nothing I wasn’t expecting. You? Hold on, what are you doing here?”

I gave him a small smile. “I came to drop off my things with the EM, and to tell you bye.”

Gardner leaned forward. “Where are you going?”

This was the whole reason I was here. I really did like Gardner, but I didn’t want to be a blubbering mess. “I’m leaving the team. My contract was bought out a few days ago. As of midnight, I’m a free agent.”

The man, who had coached me for the last four years and ninety-eight percent of the time been fair and understanding, looked like I punched him in the gut. Sure he’d tried to bench me in the semi-final, but I knew that was Cordero’s doing. I wouldn’t forget four years of friendship with Gardner for one moment. “I don’t understand. You had a year left with us. Are you that angry about the semi that you bought your contract out?”

He knew damn well I couldn’t afford to buy my contract out.

“I’m not leaving because of you, G. I swear.” I’d already decided not to tell him about Cordero trying to trade me because really, what was the point? It didn’t matter. “It’s just time for a change of pace. Cordero hates my guts more than ever and half the girls on the team…” The word robot bounced around in my head for a second before I thought of this new opportunity in my life with green-brown eyes. “It hasn’t been easy for a little while. I can’t stay when they don’t respect me.”

“Fuck, Sal.” His hands went to rest flat on his desk. “You’re not kidding?”

“Nope.”

It took him a long time to finally say something else. “Do you know what you’re going to do now?”

I would have loved to have told him I’d already gotten signed with another team. I really would have. The fact was I hadn’t. I had no solid clue what I was doing. “I’m not sure yet, but this isn’t the end. I just wanted to drop by and tell you thank you for everything. Keep in touch. Good luck. I’ve loved working with you, and I think you’re great.” I raised my shoulders up and let them drop. “Promise to email me even if it’s just to complain about the girls?”

Later on I’d realize that Gardner took it about as well as Marc had: plain shitty. That’s how well he took the news. He took it really shitty.

He promised to keep in touch and wished me the best as always. That was the last thing we said to each other before I left his office.

I made ten feet before a feminine voice called out, “Sal!” and Sheena came barreling out of the assistant coach’s office she’d been in a second before.

“Hey, Sheena,” I greeted her.

“Hey, hi. Sorry to come running out, but I wanted to talk to you before you left. You are leaving, right?” I nodded, unsure whether she was talking about leaving the team or leaving the office. “I won’t take your time then, but these pictures popped up last night of you and Mr. Kulti after the game. They aren’t good—“

“I’m sorry, Sheena. I don’t mean to cut you off but,” I gave her a tight grin, “it doesn’t matter. The pictures don’t matter.”

“They look bad, Sal. I know the league, and they’re going to be giving Cordero a call to complain pretty soon if they haven’t already,” she explained. “They’re more than likely going to want a statement from you apologizing—“

Apologizing? I shook my head. “No. I’m not doing it and they can’t make me.”

“But—“

“No.” Dear God, I sounded like Rey. “I’m not going to.” She’d find out soon enough why. In the meantime… “I have a question for you real quick. Whatever happened to that video of the press conference you were going to release? You never said anything to me about it again.”

From her facial expression, it looked like she wanted to keep going on about the pictures of Rey and I, but decided to answer my question instead. “We didn’t release it. Mr. Kulti had final approval and he demanded we shelve it. He said we would be humiliating you and he didn’t want to do that. I thought you knew? He bought the footage from the news stations so no one could do anything with them.”