Page 61 of Violent Little Thing

I was about to argue, but the sports news channel that I was searching for finally started to air Court’s press conference.

“Shhh,” I said when he started talking. “Give me a second so I can watch this horror show.”

He did.

I turned the television up and watched Court get hammered in 4K.

“…why are you making changes to a team that you barely know?” one reporter asked.

Court leaned back in his chair. “This team has had four consecutive seasons of loss. Four years ago, they went four and thirteen. Three years ago they went five and twelve. Two years ago they went two and fifteen. This year, before I took over, they were already oh and two. I think it’s time for a change…don’t you?”

There was soft laughter from the audience.

“Mr. Fox…or should I call you Mr. Navarro?”

“My legal name is Courtland Navarro,” he answered.

This dick.

“Why did you change your name?”

I heard Court’s hissed in breath from the other end of the line, as well as surround sound on the television.

That means that if I could hear his annoyance that easily, so could the rest of the room of reporters.

“After my wife died in that accident, my entire world was turned upside down. I lost my mom and dad, sister and brother. I lost Lauri’s family. My child. Needless to say, Emory Fox was no more. I’m Courtland now. It’d be nice if you respected that.”

Silence.

“What’s the significance behind the name?” someone asked. “Did you just do a search on Google and go with it?”

I wanted to punch him right in the nose.

“Courtland was the name that my wife and I chose if we had a baby boy,” Court answered. “Navarro is my mother’s maiden name.”

My heart sank.

“Oh, Court,” I said softly.

The rest of the press conference was just as invasive as the first little bit.

But it was Noe who finally got tired of the bullshit and said, “We just won the first game this season.” Noe butted in when it was obvious that they were going to continue with their line of questions. “I’m also the new head coach. Do we have any questions about actual football, or are we going to continue with this soap opera?”

I giggled.

“Noe’s very capable,” I found myself saying.

“Agreed.” Court sounded amused. “Also, the rest of the press conference is actually about football, so you can skip the rest. I know how much you hate football.”

“It’s god-awful,” I admitted. “Why do you think anyone enjoys it? I mean, how exactly can one have four fifteen-minute quarters turn into three hours?”

His chuckle sounded over the line and it felt like he’d turned the sun on inside of me.

I’d never heard him laugh before.

“I’ll do the Condors, you do the Cowgirls.”

“I’ll do both,” I disagreed, hating the idea of never seeing him. “Did Seraphina go to Seattle?”