I’m not sure I would have recognized him. Until he speaks, of course.
“Hello, Andrew.”
That’s it. I’m outta here. I’ll take out a full-page ad inThe Looking Glassif I have to. I’m not doing this. I stand up. “This is stupid. It will never work. Hannah, I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
Brandon Nix holds up his hands. “What about me? I drove all the way up here. Do you know what traffic is like this time of day? I think you owe me an apology, Andrew. Or at least a steak.”
I grind my teeth together. “Stop calling me Andrew. My name is Andi.”
He shrugs. “Potato, pah-tah-toe.”
Hannah stands up, completing our Mexican standoff. We stare at each other for a long moment. Finally, she says, “Guys, this is not going to work if you’re going to act like children. My babysitting days are long done, now sit down.”
Slowly, without breaking his gaze, I sink back onto the upholstered bench. Brandon sits down casually like he doesn’t have a care in the world—like his career isn’t on the line—and flags the waitress over. He orders a double whiskey, neat. We continue to stare at each other until the waitress returns. Still without breaking eye contact, he picks up his glass tumbler and drains the amber liquid. He puts the glass down and slowly drags the back of his hand across his mouth.
I cave. “You know that’s why they invented napkins.” I pick up the piece of cloth from the table and toss it at him. I swear, it’s as if he’s never been out in public before.
“Okay, well, this has been fun, but let’s put the childish games aside, put our grown-up panties on, and get to work.” Hannah pulls out a folder and begins riffling through papers. “As best I can see it, the both of you have an image problem. That’s the common ground.”
Brandon looks at Hannah and then me, surprise in his eyes. “What’s your problem? I mean, aside from the obvious stick up your ass?”
I sigh. “Thanks to your antics during the Buzzards–Terrors game, the viral video clips have inspired the internet to ship us.” I look at Hannah. “Did I say it right?”
She laughs. “For the most part.”
I continue. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the USSLRA is an ole boys’ club. They don’t take too kindly to us womenfolk showing that we’re capable. It’s why I was the first ever woman to be the head official in a MUSSL game.”
Brandon stops me. “MUSSL? What’s that?”
If I sighed every time he exasperated me, I’d be hyperventilating. Instead, I give him my best bored expression and womansplain it to him. “Well, you have the United States Soccer League. The USSL. Under that, you have two divisions. TheMen’sUnited States Soccer League and theWomen’sUnited States Soccer League. The MUSSL and the WUSSL.”
He laughs. “Sounds like muscle and wuscle. Or wuss. Like for the strong men and the wimpy wo—” He stops mid-sentence. “Oh. Is that what you mean by the ole boys’ club?”
I raise my eyebrows, completely shocked that he got it. I thought I’d need a whiteboard and marker to spell it out for him. “Yes. And when referring to the men’s league as the USSL, you’re making that the default and automatically making the women less or second-class.”
Brandon doesn’t come back with a smart-ass reply. I pull out my phone to check the weather app to see if Hell has frozen over.
Nope. That’s weird.
It’s almost as if Brandon and I might see eye to eye on something.
Hannah says, “And Brandon, you’re on thin ice with the Buzzards. They’re not going to deal with much more from you, on or off the pitch. There’s an incredible wealth of young talent in the minor leagues chomping at the bit. Pro-teams in the MUSSL aren’t going to put the energy—or the money—into someone who’s a P.R. disaster.”
He shrugs. “I can always go play in the British Football League. That’s the upper tier anyway.”
Hannah levels her gaze at him. “Edmund Jones will not put up with it either. Think of how he treated Xavier Henry.”
If I’m not mistaken, Brandon pales slightly. Xavier was big news this past winter. He’d been expelled a few years back from the BFL after a situation with Edmund Jones’s daughter. Turns out, Xavier did nothing wrong, and she set him up. Even though his name has been cleared, he’s still on a lifetime ban from the BFL.
We all know the BFL isn’t a viable option for Brandon.
“So why are we here? It’s not like Andrew is running for president of the Brandon Nix Fan Club,” he grumbles.
Hannah sighs. “No, Andi is not.”
Brandon sits back with a smug smile on his face. “So if she’s not going to be a Nixen, what does Andi need from me? I’ll ask again. Why are we here?” He cocks an eyebrow under the black frame, his dark brown eyes twinkling.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was enjoying this.
