Page 30

“You want to manage a sports team?”

“If she doesn’t make top girl, no team will trust her capability to manage anything.”

Lowering her gaze, Kota focuses on her mom. “I still have plenty of time. I’m only a freshman and it never goes to a fresh—”

“The current top girl is a freshman.”

That sounds like second place to me but I’m not pointing that out right now. Better to keep it for a rainy day.

“It almost never goes to a freshman,” Kota amends. “Ever Munreaux’s exceptional.”

Somehow, there’s zero jealousy when she says that. Another girl beat her for a spot she should have and she’s not pissed?

“Her herkies certainly are,” Sera points out.

Other than Kota’s lips pursing, she doesn’t respond.

“What kind of team do you want to manage?” I ask.

“Sports management isn’t just about team management.”

“What else is there?”

“Representing professional athletes.”

Sera snorts before picking up her martini and taking a sip.

“You’re going to be an agent?”

“Who better to know what an athlete needs than an athlete?”

“A cheerleader,” Sera says.

Kota’s eyes return to the ceiling while mine drift to her mom.

“That’s the reality. Cheerleaders aren’t taken seriously as athletes.”

“What female athletes are taken seriously?” Kota counters.

“Elite ones. Unless you can prove to be superior—”

Kota whips her head to her mom. “I do. Year after year.”

The older Rhodes pops her eyebrows. “That’s not what I saw in Daytona.”

“What happened?” I can’t help but ask. Kota’s team took first, so how bad could she have done?

“That’s a good question. What did happen, Dakota?”

That’s what Kota’s short for? My dad didn’t tell me that. He didn’t tell me shit.

Kota sets her fork down, straightens in her seat, then drones, “My herkie was sloppy. It should’ve been tighter, my toes more pointed.”

Although the words come from Kota’s mouth, I can tell they originated from Sera’s.

I go out on a limb by saying, “I don’t think it was.”

“You weren’t there,” Sera argues. “It was. And not just that—”