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"God, I hope not."
Talia gives me an evil smirk, one dimple appearing. "You think Aidan Sullivan would be cool with you poaching one of his players?"
"The only thing I'm sure Aidan Sullivan can do is kiss my ass."
She nudges me; my cheek twitches in annoyance.
"Aha!" Talia huffs. "I knew there was some unresolved tension between you two."
I let out a breath and cross my arms over the oversized Seattle Storm jersey I'm wearing just for tonight. "By 'unresolved tension', you mean he's an arrogant jackass who can't see past his self-inflated ego?"
"Exactly. Tension. Look it up in the dictionary. Below the definition, there'll be pictures of both your faces." She nudges her chin toward the VIP suites where all the big-wigs sit—team owners, sponsors, and likely, Aidan Sullivan. “That time you two met, I thought you were going to bite his head off."
"Bite? No. But a swift kick to his nether regions seemed like a good idea."
I glance up at the VIP sky boxes, recalling the night we met.
As the owner of the Seattle Storm, Aidan attended the cocktail hour for a local Seattle charity, Penguins for Progress—a non-profit dedicated to providing sweaters for chilly Antarctic birds.
Alton's company, Hare & Holeton, co-sponsored the event with the Storm organization. Instead of mingling, Alton introduced me to his 'friend' Aidan.
During our introduction, the six-foot-three team owner snorted into his drink when I mentioned the charity's mission.
"Penguins in sweaters? You can't seriously believe in this, can you?" He scoffed, beer in hand. "My PR team thought it was altruistic, fun. Sounds like a colossal waste of time and resources to me."
My cheeks burned, but I stood tall. I had convinced a reluctant Alton to attend.
"Well, Mr. Sullivan, just because you don't see its importance doesn't make it silly. It's about awareness and conservation."
Aidan just stared, clearly not used to being challenged, especially by someone in a penguin-themed cocktail dress.
Shaking off the memory, I focus on why I'm here tonight—to get through the game and meet the employer Alton is introducing me to.
Without this job, there's no money. Without money, Papi remains stuck in the rehab facility for his hip, his meds barely covered by insurance.
We've refinanced the house to the max and maxed out all our credit cards. The financial situation is almost bad as it was the one year Papi lost his job, and we stood to lose everything. I was just a teen, but I remember every dollar saved, every sacrifice.
It’s almost tougher now.
One more fall, one more injury, and he'll never work again. My parents will lose everything. I can't let that happen.
I blow out a long breath, sipping more of the nasty beer.
"To be honest," I tell Talia and Ayo, "I'd rather not think about Aidan Sullivan at all."
"Forget him," Talia says. "You don't need the team owner's permission to work for the players."
"Damn right," Ayo chimes in. "And you know what they say about pro athletes. Big egos, bigger—" She laughs, her eyes sympathetic as she pats my hand. "Listen, don't worry. It's just until you find something more permanent. You'll be fine. We'll make sure of it."
I return her smile, glancing at the scoreboard where the San Francisco Furies trail. Sipping my beer, I try not to look at the owner's box high above. By the time the announcer calls the game, I'm buzzing from the beer.
Ignoring the cheering crowd, I text Alton.
ME: Great game ??????
ME: Still meeting in the VIP lounge?
ALTON: Change of plans
