Page 24 of Set Play

I have no idea what I am confirming, but I definitely agree with the last sentiment. “Yes, sir, it is true. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Wonderful. You’ll start on March 1st. That’s one week from Monday. Until then, we recommend watching as many games as you can, in person, if possible. Use them to familiarize yourself with the team. You know, put names to faces and what not. And you’ll need to come by to complete the HR onboarding and sign the forms I mentioned.”

My nerves jitter in excitement causing my hands to shake as we hang up and my phone clatters to the floor.

I’m one step closer to reaching my dream!

I scoop my phone back up and quickly open a new message to my longtime hypeman to share my exciting news: Henri. He’s going to be so fucking happy for me!

Except my thumb hovers over the send button as reality crashes over me. The message is deleted before I even consciously think about it. He’s not going to be happy for me…not about a job with the Storm.

I can’t tell him. At least, not yet.

1. (a)/(mo) stóirín = my little treasure

Chapter 13

Élise

Thank goodness I got here so early .

My meeting is in five minutes, and I’ve spent the last twenty-five minutes wandering through the stadium parking lots, searching for the security desk. Yes, I’ve been here for games, but the front desk isn’t exactly a part of the average ticketed experience. So, when I finally find the damn thing, I swear I practically weep in relief. The lone security guard sitting behind it doesn’t bother looking up at my approach.

“Appointment?”

I place my hands on the counter between us. “Yes, sir. Élise Clément, here to see Brenda in HR.” I wait as he calls to inform them of my arrival and look at his name tag. Once he hangs up, I rap my knuckles on the counter, giving him a bright smile. “Thank you, Earl. Hope you have a lovely day.”

His eyebrows jump at that. “You sure are a friendly one, ain’t you?”

Despite the warmth in his voice, I bristle. He’s not mocking me. He’s not trying to be rude or belittling.

I repeat the words, but echoes of being called “too much” silence my attempts at reassurance.

That same deep voice pierces my rising panic, its southern drawl more pronounced, “Please don’t feel bad. I don’t mean nothing by it. Most folks who come in are the ‘money first, business second, people ‘n’ feelings last’ type. It’s nice to see someone genuine.” Earl pats my hand in a fatherly gesture right as the elevator dings, signaling its arrival. “G’luck in your meeting, Ms. Élise. Hope to see you aroun’ again.”

Before I can thank him for his kindness, the click of approaching heels on tile has me turning to see an imposing, impeccably dressed woman walking toward me. “Ms. Clement?” she checks, her tone as clipped and sharp as her dirty blonde bob.

I nod, swallowing my sudden unease, and try to respond, but she’s already turning toward the elevator, ordering me to follow her without looking back. With one last shaky wave to Earl, I scurry after the woman I assume is Brenda.

She stays silent until I’ve settled across from her in a cramped conference room, a plethora of papers laid out on the mahogany table between us. The tinny hum of the fluorescent bulbs above us do nothing to ease my discomfort, either.

“Now, most of this is your standard job onboarding,” she states, repeatedly clicking her pen and looking at me over the brim of her glasses.

On anyone else, the move would look like a librarian, but on Brenda, it adds to the commanding aura that radiates from her. Definitely not a sexy librarian.

“It’s just the I-9 process and all that. But due to your…ahem, circumstances, you’ll need to sign a few extra documents. I believe Mr. Hughes mentioned them.”

“He mentioned some forms, yes, ma’am. But I’m sorry, what do you mean ‘my circumstances’?”

The blank look she gives me makes me feel like I’ve made a grave transgression, but I refuse to look away. I genuinely don’t know what she means.

“I mean,” she enunciates slowly, as if I don’t speak English, “that your pre-existing relationship with a player requires us to take extra precautions to avoid any legal issues that may arise.”

My mind blanks for a moment as she pauses for a sip of water. Wait, a pre-existing relationship with a player? She slides a small stack of forms over before fanning them out for me to see. “Mateo already signed a copy of these forms, so we just need you to sign and then we’ll be right as rain.”

Did she just say MATEO?

No, surely I heard that wrong.