Page 69 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
I’m already in a bad mood, but as the ref tells us to split to our sides, I hear Gil tell one of the guys he brought in to play dirty. It takes everything in me not to cause a scene. Instead, I return to the bench and approach Hana and Ohken. Popping a squat, I look between them.
“Gil’s told his team to play dirty. I know Alkazar and the other gargoyle well enough to guarantee they won’t do that no matter what Stoneswallow says. But keep an eye out for everyone else. You two are my defense. Try not to let anyone get hurt, alright?”
“That motherfucker,” Hana hisses, crossing her arms. “I hate him so much.” She immediately blanches. “I suppose I shouldn’t be saying that, as we’re technically interviewing him.”
Ohken lets out an irritated growl. “If you hire that asshole, I’m taking my mate, and we’re moving.” I sense he’s at least partially kidding, but I level him with a concerned look.
Standing, I clap my hands together, gathering the rest of the team’s attention.
“Do your best out there, folks, and that’s all I can ask. Keep an eye out for any bullshit. We’re keeping everything legal here today, alright?”
Nods and murmurs of assent reach me. I’ve got a solid team, and I called in some favors, bringing a couple of the Protector Academy players in.
Yet, forty minutes later, I’m staring at three benched monsters with injuries and a scoreboard with a big fat zero under my team’s colors. Hana stands by my side, chest heaving as we watch yet another play where the ref seems to ignore the fact that Gil’s players are playing dirty as fuck. She scoffs as one of the other team’s players trips Ohken, who stumbles to the ground with a big thump.
Alkazar frowns as the centaur canters off, waving his hands victoriously in the air.
Hadrian pauses and reaches a hand out for Ohken, helping him up. They exchange words I can’t hear, and Ohken nods, then turns for the bench. He’s bleeding from both knees and a gash above his lip.
Fuck.
I catch the ref’s eyes and crook my finger for him to come over.
The big pixie male blushes but jogs toward me as Stoneswallow watches us. I meet the ref on the field, crossing my arms as I dip low. “The fuck is going on here? I’ve got four injured players and not a single flag thrown in the first half.”
The ref looks up, red dusting his cheeks. “Are you accusing me of not doing my job?”
I scowl. This isn’t a real game, so there’s no ruling party for me to take this behavior up with, not that it would stop me from reporting him. This dipshit doesn’t matter.
“You’re either blind or willfully ignorant. Which is it, hmm?”
The crowd starts chanting for the game to begin again, but all I can think about is this clusterfuck.
The ref blusters. “What in the…I would never!”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I bark out. “If you don’t throw a flag next time one of these motherfuckers tries something, I’ll see to it that your coaching card’s not renewed. I can do it, too. Good buddy of mine runs the renewal program.”
The pixie stands, gobsmacked, as blue wings flutter wildly at his back. “You…wouldn’t.”
I snort. “Watch me.”
Point made, I stalk back to my team where Hana’s patching up Ohken’s injuries, wrapping his knee in a thick white bandage. He glares down the field at the ref.
The game starts again with the crowd going wild. If I can say just one positive thing about this game—it’s clear the Evertons are thrilled about having skyball. They’re a fantastic crowd and it’s about the only thing keeping my players going when the ref ignores foul play after foul play.
We rally in the second half and manage to lose by a single point to Gil’s team. The crowd floods the field after the game’s done, but all I want is to make sure my folks are taken care of and then bury myself in my woman and forget this day. I can take a loss but a dirty loss sucks.
I comm her as we trudge toward the locker room. “Sunshine, meet me in the locker room, alright?”
“Be there shortly,” she chirps. Despite our loss, she doesn’t sound as disappointed as I feel in that damn game.
“Longhorn.”
I freeze as the players continue on past me toward the locker room.
When I turn, Rip Shorthorn stands at the entrance to the lower hallways, a wry look on his wrinkled face. “You got a second, old friend?”
My mouth goes dry, but I return to him and shake his proffered hand. “Didn’t expect you here, Rip.”
