Page 1 of Matched with Her Athlete Boss

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KENZIE

Cleaning Enthusiast is my middle name. Or at least it should be.

My roommates would agree that this title fits. Aside from hiding chocolate bars in random places around the house for emergencies, I like to keep things in order. I went down an internet rabbit-hole a few days ago, surprised by how much can go into the psychology of cleaning.

I did a spring cleaning on the house back in April and now, mid-way through July, I’m starting over again. There’s nothing wrong with a cleaning overhaul every three months, right? And not just the deep clean kind. My brother let me use his truck to take a bunch of bags to a donation center from all of the Spice House roomies.

Growing up as the only daughter of Brian Sullivan and Felicia Tomlinson, with a slew of half-brothers, my life has been an adventure for sure.

So, as of six days ago, I started an organizing business. Do I have clients yet? No. But I’ve got business cards and that’s the true start of being an entrepreneur, right?

How does a girl who can’t keep a job claim to be an expert in organizing a space?

But the overriding issue in holding down a job is that if it’s boring or they don’t keep things clean, I have a hard time focusing on anything but the mess.

Because my dad is a hoarder at home but the epitome of neat and tidy when it comes to the ice rink he manages. How he can manage both makes me wonder if it’s a superpower, like Superman and Clark Kent.

The hoarding increased over my middle school and high school years. His need to keep everything caused so many fights between my mother and father at the beginning of their marriage that while there were still other things wrong, I think it eventually led to their divorce.

Mom is on marriage number four and Dad has a girlfriend, last time I heard.

Their relationships alone should’ve been a key indicator for how my love life would go. No, I’ve never been married, but I was close once. The breakup was devastating at first, but looking back, I call it a blessing. Other than that, I usually go on a few dates with men—not at the same time of course—land then end up sliding into the friend zone.

I wish I didn’t understand why. Guys want a woman who’s sexy and coy, not someone like me who slinks around in workout clothes or sweatpants every chance I can.

It’s the by-product of growing up a tom-boy. I love anything to do with sports, or things that are high adrenaline. And my competition level is off the charts. Chances are high I’m not letting a man win just to save his ego.

And after my last relationship with Johnny where he slowly ghosted me, then magically reappeared three months later to ask for advice on what to do with this new girl he liked, I might as well start an advice column for guys. It would be calledGirl Talkor something like that.

Does every one of these guys break my heart? No, but the one that hurt the worst left me for a woman with the title of Princess.

There is a unicorn, the one guy I can never have because I’m not at all like the models he has on his arm at all the big fancy events he’s invited to. If there was a Guinness Record for longest crush, it would probably have my name in there soon when it comes to Treydon Hatch, Boston Breeze center who should be the right wing.

At least I’m trying to cure myself of that. It’s nice to think about someone I don’t actually know, well aside from meeting him after one of his games a few weeks ago. There are no attachment issues, or wondering where the relationship will go in a few weeks.I’m the fan girl.

I straighten my shoulders and smile. That’s why I’m going solo, a lot like that song that was popular a few years ago. I’m not going to worry about guys and I’m done dating.

My biggest problem right now is telling Dad that I’m going to be my own boss. I called my mom last night, mostly because she’s living in Europe and I needed something to talk about with her.

I can still hear her voice saying, “MacKenzie, that sounds like a lot of work.” The woman was laying out in the sun at a private resort her newest husband owns. I’m not good at sitting still for that long.

A banking alert pops up on my phone. Three dollars and fifty-seven cents are all that’s in my checking account right now. I still have to pick up my last check from the ABC You Better Drugstore, but that will go toward gas and food.

And now I’m wondering if starting my own business is a bad idea. That seems to be the common thread in my life lately. Excited to doubting every little thing.

The Kenzie from thirty minutes ago thought the plan was solid, excited to hold the business cards she designed. Now I’m thinking this dream might not get me through the month.

I take a deep breath before entering the rink my father manages. He’s been at the Alvey Ice Arena for nearly three decades and some of my favorite memories are from the ice and the people, the smell of burnt popcorn and stinky skates. I know those aren’t the typical details normal people would give to remember a place fondly, but as an awkward teen, I thought I could take over the world when inside its walls.

Starting a new business isn’t something I’ve had on one of my many lists, but after going through jobs like a pack of Double Stuf Oreos, maybe it’s time to become an entrepreneur.

“You’ve got this, Kenz,” I whisper to myself. “You’ve got a lot of experience and can make a difference in people’s lives. Or at least their sanity level.”

Doubt creeps in that people will actually pay for someone to organize their home. I’m also nervous my dad won’t get behind it. He loved telling people I worked in marketing, but that was six jobs and nine months ago now.

This twenty-five-year-old ex-collegiate athlete still can’t figure out what to do with her life. A career, a relationship, whether or not I should accept the newest diet plan into my regime. I’ve checked the undecided box on all those big decisions. My parents try to guide me in all the areas of my life, but either I’m stubborn or I have perpetual bad luck. Honestly, I’m leaning toward the second one.

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