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“This campus is almost as big as the original,” Taran said as she spun. The grass and buildings that made up this school, which currently took students from third grade through high school, could have been anywhere. But the fact that it was nestled in a small town in one of the more rural areas of Guatemala was impressive.
Taran, Edgar, and two of his security personnel, or as he called them, personal assistants, had made the four-hour drive from Guatemala City to this school together. They’d been here for about an hour and had already finished touring the buildings.
“Just because I keep these satellite schools more private than the original doesn’t mean they aren’t expanding.” Edgar smirked.
The sun beat down on her. Much like in Texas, the summer here was hot, and the back of her shirt was damp with sweat. But the school buildings had fans and even a few portable air conditioning units to keep the temperature inside low so the kids could focus on their studies.
“How hard was it to get the electric and cell towers out here?” Taran asked.
“Wasn’t the easiest. That is for certain. And it was costly. However, it’s helped many of the towns around. So, the local governments were cooperative.”
What he didn’t say but Taran had learned in the past few days as they toured one school and the next was that the man was determined. And his professional athlete status greased lots of wheels to make things happen.
“This is the last one. You’ve been very quiet all week. Watching, listening, but not much talking.” Edgar wiped the sweat off his brow and crossed his arms.
Known in the soccer world for being one of the fiercest defenders of all time, his scowl supported his reputation. He was serious and hyper-focused. But he was also passionate about these schools.
“I’m here to learn about you, not talk.” Taran shrugged.
“In every article, you focus on a single point of character. Do you know what you’ll be focusing on?” he asked.
There were always two types: the one who didn’t worry about her story and let her do her job, and the ones who questioned everything. Until this moment, she thought Edgar was more in the first category, because in the week she’d been with him, he hadn’t asked for details about the article at all.
“Most people think it’s skill that got you to the top of the soccer world, but I think it was single-minded determination to succeed. It’s the same reason you’re successful with these charter schools.”
The scowl faded to an almost smile, but before he could answer, the bell rang, and kids hurried by them to get to their next classrooms. The school enrolled just over three hundred kids, and most were high school age.
Edgar waved and fist-bumped some kids, praising them for improvements that seemed amazingly detailed for him to know. He scowled at others, reminding them that he was watching their progress, almost as if he was the principal instead of the owner.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, expecting a photo from Corey. Although he didn’t text often, he sent pictures of whatever he was doing or sometimes a short video clip. But this time, he was calling.
She moved away from the chaos to pick up.
“Hey, you.”
“Chipmunk.”
Taran had hated that at first. But every time he dropped the word into post-game interviews and the way his voice took on a soft rumble when he said it had it growing on her.
“How’s Cali? Sunny and seventy-five?” Taran asked.
Corey grunted. “It’s fine.”
Taran’s stomach flipped; something was off with him. Her first thought was that he’d found out about the article, but that was impossible. Wayne agreed to let Taran handle it to ensure Corey wouldn’t get spooked and cancel.
“What’s wrong?” She tried not to sound hesitant.
“Tonight’s the all-star dinner, and I’ve been to eight of these things already.” Corey sighed.
“Not in the mood for a media event?” Taran asked.
“I’m never in the mood for a media event, but that’s not it. Where are you?”
“I’m at the last school.”
“Fuck. It’s never a good time. We can’t catch a break, even on the phone.”
