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“Fuck no. I don’t do that. You know better.”
We waited impatiently for the elevator. This place was practically a city. With over ten thousand athletes staying in the village each building was like its own neighborhood.
“Do you even know her name?” He kept on with the questions.
“Now why would I bother with those details?”
“One day you’re going to wake up a very lonely and sad man, Pierce Miller.”
I laughed. “Then I’ll grab a beer and look back on all the nights I had like last night.”
The elevator dinged and the doors retracted.
I wanted to change the subject. I hated it when Scott got on me about my personal life. We couldn’t go into the tournament like this.
“Have you heard from Eric?” I asked.
“He said he’ll meet us at the at the beach. He wants to go over strategy before warm-ups.”
“Sounds good.” I nodded.
Eric had been our coach since Scott and I first teamed up. No one knew our strengths or weaknesses better. He also had a wicked way of sizing up the competition. He could scout out their deficiencies better than anyone in the sport. It was exactly what we needed going into the first match against Italy.
“We’re going to have to take some risks today,” Scott announced. “I don’t think we can play it safe the entire game.”
I chuckled. “You’re preaching to the choir, brother. When do I ever play it safe?”
The doors opened and we stepped into the lobby. It was packed. We weren’t the only ones trying to get somewhere early this morning.
We pushed through the crowd to the outside.
We had a match to win.
2
Sierra
“Push against my hand,” I instructed Paulo to move his heel into my palm for the third time.
He had another calf cramp. I massaged the underside of his leg with my free hand. The cramp was solid like a baseball under his skin. The sand was gritty on my fingers as I tried to ease the pain out of the muscle.
“God,” he cursed. He was such a baby. He had done nothing but complain since he hobbled over to the bench during warm ups.
“You have to stay hydrated and this won’t happen as often.” I si
ghed. I didn’t know how many times I had reminded him of how to keep his hydration and potassium levels up.
He never took my advice. Six months with Paulo and Sergio and neither one had adopted any of my tips. Not one.
He scowled at me and I dropped his leg to the ground. I didn’t want to help him anymore. I wasn’t even sure why I was part of Team Italy. What was the point of being the trainer when the players had their own opinions about treatment? They smiled and winked at me, but when it came to listening, they were deaf. Did they really think they could charm themselves into healing?
I grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler and shoved it in his hand. “Drink this and stretch some more. Then you can get back out there for the rest of warm ups.” I had left my bedside manner back at the village. I did feel grouchier than usual.
Sergio tossed balls into the air, volleying with the coach. He needed Paulo on the court with him. The match was scheduled to start in another hour. Paulo’s calf should be fine by then, but I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t cramp up again.
The sand kicked up around my legs as the ball bounced a few feet from me. I leaned over to toss it back into play.
I looked on the horizon as I heard the deep rumble of thunder coming from the ocean. Copacabana beach was beautiful, but it was windier than most places the team played. I didn’t like the dark clouds looming over the sea. It felt ominous and bleak as if it were some kind of omen. I wasn’t about to tell the guys that. It would only be one more thing they would dismiss from me.
