AllFreeNovel
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“She did what, now?” my voice inflates with disbelief.
“She did the numbers, Coach. At most, we’ve only ever sold twenty-five percent capacity at a game. Now, even if the whole stadium filled up with buy-one-get one’s, that’s still twenty-five percent more sales than we usually ever get! Plus, Delaney figures that if we hook them in now, we can also offer some sort of season ticket exclusively to those at the opener—keeping our numbers up all season.”
For the first time since she arrived, I’m actually taken aback. Frankly, I had no idea any of this was going on. I suppose somewhere along the lines, she’d taken matters into her own hands. I’m not sure whether or not to be angry or happy. I settle on a little bit of both as Wilks carries out the remainder of his thought.
“To top it all off, the first hundred people at the gate on game day are going to get free merch.”
My brows furrow in question. “Free merch? What kind of merch? We don’t have free merch to just give out.”
“But we do,” Wilks corrects me, raising a finger up. “Laney said she was digging through the storage closet and found some old scarves and hats. She said the box was labeled misprint, but after we took a further look at things, we noticed that it was just the coloring that was slightly off. Remember? Ira said just scrap it.”
I’m not sure what shocks me more, Wilk’s use ofLaneyor the fact that Delaney actually went into the storage closet.
Wilks phone goes off before I can debate the thought. “And there’s thatsomeonenow.” He smirks, patting my shoulder. “Gotta run, Coach. See you tomorrow!”
As Wilks darts out of my line of view, my dumbfounded thoughts guide me back into my office, even though it's half past nine, and the only place I should be right now is back at my flat.
I swear I spend more time here than anyone else.
“Goodnight, Warren!” I hear a familiar voice shout out from outside my door.
It’s Delaney.
“You’re still here?” I lean over in my chair to catch a glimpse of her as she wraps her coat around herself.
“Persistence,Coach,” she reminds me of our conversation from earlier. “Persistence.”
ELEVEN
D E L A N E Y
“Hi,Miss Matthews. This is Mr. Cunningham. I’ve tried to reach you a few times, but I suppose the time difference is working against us. Can you give me a callback? It’s regarding your share of your grandfather’s will?—”
“Are you ever not on that thing?” Alf makes me jump back in my seat as he creeps up from behind me, planting himself in one of the chairs to my right as I pull my phone away from my ear and close the voicemail.
I break into a smile. “That’s like me asking if you ever stop coaching,” I respond cheekily. “My phone and my laptop…” I gesture to the device on my lap, “are a part of me. Without them, I wouldn't be able to work, norwould I have gotten five thousand followers on Instagram in the span of a few weeks!” I squeal, prompting the boys on the field to turn their heads in my direction at my outburst, Warren included.
“Can we have some quiet from the sidelines?” Warren coldly bites back.
“Sorry,” I mouth, sinking into my chair as he blows the whistle, forcing everyone back on track.
We’re days away from the season opener, and with a sold-out crowd, I’m working full steam ahead at making this start of the season the best one yet.
Not only have I spent the last 48 hours bundling together these merch giveaways I so diligently promised, but I’ve also taken the liberty to plan a series of events outside of the stadium before the game even begins.
I’ve learned that Crawley is a small family town and that when the word gets out that an event is happening, let’s just say you need to put your money where your mouth is.
Thankfully, money has never been something I’ve been short of. I’m learning that more and more as I secretly dip into my own allowance to cover the costs for the vendors that I’ve gone slightly overboard in booking. I can’t allow Warren to see the bill I’ve accumulated.
We’ve got a couple of food trucks, face painting, a live DJ, tons of pre-game activities, and much more—things are really starting to shape up, which means I need to work at twice the speed.
The sound of Alf chuckling to himself prompts me to break free from the tornado in my mind. “If no one’s told you yet, Laney.” He pats my shoulder. “You’re doing a great job. Really, you are.”
Alf is totally the dad of the team. He knows exactly how to lift you up in moments where you hadn’t known you needed it. His introduction of “Laney,” a nickname that seems to have stuck amongst everyone in the group but Warren, is just another indicator of that.
“I appreciate it.” I softly smile over at him, watching as he carefully analyzes the players on the field whilst Warren directs them on the pitch. “But is there a reason why you’re not down there?” I can’t help but wonder why Alf is sitting on the sidelines with me.
“Ah, Warren is in one of those moods today.” He waves his hand in front of him.
