Page 8 of Thunderstruck
I know how to lead a team, and my last year as a quarterback got the Badgers to the Super Bowl, but I can’t do anything for a team who still sees me as an outsider.
My frustration must have been clear on my face, and Moxie seems to think playing tour guide will help me cool off.
I’ve nearly reached the try-zone before I look back to see if Little Miss Paxton followed me, though I wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to stay back and flirt with the guys instead. She was giving them all sorts of eyes, and I don’t want to even think about the trouble she’s goingto cause. A distraction like her is the last thing we need, especially with Coach getting flakier every day.
As far as I know, he didn’t even give an excuse this time.
To my surprise, Carissa is hurrying after me, her face red from the exertion needed to keep up with my long strides. I’m guessing she’s not from around here if she’s wearing a hoodie in May, though I can’t decide if she’s cold or stupid.
She answers my question by tugging the sweatshirt off as soon as she reaches me. “It’s so much warmer than I expected!” she breathes. “Is it always like this in LA?”
I can’t answer because I’m too busy staring at the technicolor unicorn printed on her body-hugging tank top. Little Miss, indeed. She looks like she’s barely out of college, if that, and she’s nothing but skin and bone.
Turning an even deeper red, she tucks her arms around her middle after tying her sweatshirt around her waist. “I didn’t realize I would be coming to the practice grounds today,” she mumbles.
“I didn’t realize we were getting another trainer,” I mumble back. Does she have a clue how to do her job? My money’s on no.
Carissa shrugs. “From what Da—Tamlin told me, I’m more like an intern. Here to help Mel out for the next little bit.”
I didn’t miss her slip, and though I don’t know of any Paxtons connected to the team, things are starting to make sense if Daddy pulled some strings to get her a job. Whoever her father is, he probably gives his little girl anything she wants.
And she islittle. I’d put her at five foot four at most, and she looks like she might snap in a light breeze. Hardly the kind of person who could handle some of the things Mel does as our athletic trainer.
I grunt, not sure what to say to her. She shifts her stance, and light catches on an impressive diamond sitting pretty on her finger. Ah, so maybe Paxton isn’t her daddy’s name after all. And if she’s married, her flirty eyes with the guys are even more annoying than they already were.
“We’re a fairly new team,” I say sharply, making her jump with my sudden words. “Just a few years old. So our facility isn’t anything special.” I point to the building behind us. “Locker room and weight room are in there, and Mel’s got her training room inside and to the left, next to Coach’s office.” Not that that last bit matters, since Coach has been picking and choosing when he wants to show up this season.
I’m pretty sure he has decided we’re not going to make any waves this year, so he’s not going to waste his time on a losing team.
“What’s the schedule?” Carissa asks. “Is Mel here for every practice?”
“If she can be.” She just had another nanny quit on her, which is why she isn’t here today and might explain why the team hired another person to fill the gaps she leaves. Though, it’s hard to believe Carissa could actually be useful when she looks like she can barely lift five pounds, assuming she would even want to try. If she has any knowledge about sports medicine, I’ll be flabbergasted, which means she’s just another person sucking limited funds out of the team budget.
I swallow my negative thoughts. I don’t own the team, so it’s not my decision on who gets hired and why. I should keep talking.
“We practice every afternoon, but not all the guys make it to every one because of day jobs.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my words with that one. When I was in the NFL, the worst player in the league was still making over seven hundred grand to sit on a bench all year. Most of my Thunder teammates are lucky if they make over twenty. Even Moxie, arguably one of the best players in MLR, only makes forty thousand, and that’s in part because I refused to be paid more than the bare minimum despite getting signed at a higher salary. With a limited amount of funds allocated to the team, my lower salary meant more could go to his.
If this were a hockey romance, most of these guys would be millionaires.
I growl at the thought. Apparently my brain is still on that kick even though Freya spent all of Sunday trying to distract me by making me go through foreign policy documents with her. It was interesting but notas diverting as she hoped because I didn’t understand a lot of it. I have some business knowledge, but politics are beyond me.
“I think Tamlin shares your opinion on rugby salaries,” Carissa says, smiling as she studies me.
I glance down the field to where Moxie is laughing at something Tamlin must have said. He has relaxed in the last few minutes, which hopefully is a sign that the devious reporter wasn’t lying when she said she wasn’t here to cause trouble. I already get enough of that from the tabloid siteHollywood Hot Scoop, and I don’t need it on the sports side too. Tamlin Park made her career by taking down players across a variety of sports, including rugby. She’s dangerous.
“That’s surprising,” I say. “Especially considering she ran a story about overpaid athletes just a couple of years ago.”
Carissa’s smile grows, and I glance up at the sky in confusion because it feels like the world gets brighter. It’s sunny. As always. Not a cloud in the sky. “My brother-in-law is Houston Briggs,” she says. “And he was one of the highest paid athletes in the country before he retired. He hated it and thinks the money could and should be used elsewhere. Like education or healthcare. Or maybe rugby.” She winks.
“Huh.” I met Houston once, back when he was dating my actor friend, Bonnie, but I wouldn’t have pegged the pitcher for a philanthropist. I glance at Carissa’s ring again, trying to fit all the pieces together. Houston only has one brother that I know of, who is also a Briggs. Not a Paxton. “How did you say you’re related to Houston?”
Somehow, she brightens even more. Her tank top is already blindingly pink, and soon she’ll be impossible to look at. “He married my sister back in March.”
Oh. I’ll admit I wasn’t in the best of moods when that wedding happened—that was when I found out Sage was dating her soon-to-be husband and my never-to-be-again friend, Javi—but I vaguely remember Bonnie mentioning Houston’s bride’s name as Something Paxton.Bonnie was at the wedding and had plenty to say about it when she came home afterward.
Again, I wasn’t paying much attention and didn’t care to know about someone else’s happy ending, but she might have mentioned someone named Carissa at one point. It doesn’t explain the ring or her last name, though. Maybe it’s just an engagement ring?
I grunt again, though it makes me feel cavemanish, and fold my arms. I don’t know where to put my misplaced annoyance when I was expecting Carissa to respond differently to the money thing. “You met my friend, Bonnie, at the wedding?”
