“Is the ink dry?” I ask.
Bryant blows out a breath of exasperation. “Christ, woman.”
Coach humors me. “Yes.”
I huff. “Did you forget that I was arrested and sent to jail for trying to murder him?” True story. Real news. I went to jail for committing assault and battery, and destruction of private property. I was committing domestic abuse and destroying hundreds of thousands of dollars of windows because I caught Bryant with his pants down. My heart was crushed, shattered into a million pieces. When Bryant answered the door drunk, he was a motley of colors ranging from red welts to already forming blue bruises. I’m quite the artist. Anyhow, thank God for high-priced attorneys, right?
Coach’s lip twitches at that, but he does a good job of hiding his smile. “I bailed you out of jail.”
“Yes, you did! Do you think they’ll drop the charges next time?”
“You’re my witness if she knocks me off,” Bryant tells him.
“Ha!” I laugh. “They’d never find your body!” Coach is looking at me with frustration knitted in his brows, so I raise my hand to see if it’s still my turn to talk. He rubs the space between his eyes, and Bryant snorts. “Sir, may I borrow a pen and piece of paper?” He hands me the two items and I write out a lovely little note and hand it back to him.
To whomever it may concern:
I quit.
Sincerely,
Zhanna Hale
“Alright, smart-ass,” Coach says.
“You’re not quitting,” Bryant tells me.
I’m about to tell him what I do is none of his business anymore, but Coach interrupts before the feuding can well and truly begin. “Why don’t you two take the rest of the day and talk this out? It would be good for you to establish boundaries for working with one another. I don’t want any marital shit hindering this football team or my quarterback, and Zhanna, I need you on your toes to make sure my boys stay healthy. I need you both on top of your games. I believe in both of you, it’s why you’re here.”
When the famous Otto Bullock tells you he believes in you, it’s really something. “Yes, sir,” we say in unison.
“Let’s go before he fires us,” Bryant says and grabs my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine.
“I already quit,” I remind him.
“See you tomorrow, Zhanna,” Coach says as I’m pulled from his office.
Zina’s standing outside, grinning when the two of us emerge hand-in-hand. “What’s up, bro?”
My ex releases my hand, picks up my little sister, and spins her around. “Hey, sis!”
Those two should’ve gotten married. They get along so much better than we do.
Zina pulls on the arm of his shirt. “What’s this shirt you’re wearing?”
“My new team’s shirt,” he proudly answers.
“Holy shit!” she yells. “You’re Voodoo now?” Then the reality of the situation dawns on her. “How in the hell are the two of you going to work together and live in the same city?”
“We’re going to be fine,” he assures her, and I’m glad someone has confidence that we won’t burn the city to the ground, because I sure don’t. While Zina and Bryant catch up, I start to sneak off to make a break for it when he reaches out and gently wraps a hand around my arm. “Not so fast, Z. You heard Coach.”
I roll my eyes. “We can make up rules in my office with Zina as mediator.”
“Nope. We’re going to the lot, you’re getting in my car, and we’re going to grab a bite to eat in public where you can’t commit another felony.”
“We’re not going anywhere. I can’t take off work, I have stuff to do. You can’t just waltz back in town and expect for me to drop everything. What are you even doing here?”
“I’m trying to win my wife back!” he shouts which causes a few people to look out of their offices.
