Page 80 of Broken Play
Concentrating on technical information about robotics serving drinks or codes on certain seats for social media marketing drains the life out of me. So freaking boring. Can it make us money? Can it fill a void where we're lacking? I don't want to spend money without a clear goal.
"I don't know, Steve. Part of coming to the stadium is the human interaction. Guys talking and bonding while they wait in line for food and drinks. Having more employees is better, in my opinion."
Steve Watts, the owner of the Seattle team, lifts a brow. "And how many games have you been to, Ms. Anders? Before your father bought the team."
"None, but I have been to hundreds of tennis tournaments. There are certain things that tennis does well. Quality food. Quality seating. And most tournaments have places tosit and watch the matches while they're eating instead of at their stadium seats. Next week, we're implementing a place like a food court where you can sit out of the cold, rain, or heat to eat. I don't want a robot handing me my drink. I want a kid working his way through school or an older person who's doing it just to be around fans of their favorite team."
My phone buzzes on the conference room table. I flip it over and see if it's Ten. It's not. It's Marlon.
Our quarterback is missing.
"Excuse me. I need to answer this."
Me: What do you mean, missing?
Of course, I haven't heard from him, but surely he's not missing as in no one knows where he is.
Marlon: He's not at practice. I overheard J.D. talking to our newest O'Ryan brother, who started today.
For a hot second, I had forgotten that their brother Parker is starting today.
Me: Maybe his truck broke down. Or maybe he's sick.
Marlon: He didn't fly home with the team and was supposed to be back for practice today. Just thought you may have heard from him.
Me: No, I haven't. I need to get back into my meeting. Keep me updated.
Marlon: Will do.
After day two of meetings, I head back to my hotel. It's within walking distance, and I need some fresh air to clear my head. The sun barely peeks through the tall steel structures, but when it does hit my face, it relieves a fraction of my worry. Where is Greyson?
As I push through the rotating door, the hard lines and minimalistic lobby feel cold and uninviting. All that I care about is getting to my room and collapsing on my bed. I fumble with my key card, Greyson's name ricocheting around my head.
It's Tuesday. I keep flipping my phone over, double-checking for missed calls, a text, anything. But Greyson has gone radio silent. I check with Marlon to see if he ever showed up at practice. He did not.
I can't stay here. I need to know what's wrong. When I get to the private airport, the television is on a sports channel, and they're playing my interview from the Tennis Channel. Then it cuts away to what appears to be Bodhi and me together at the tennis tournament.
Is it possible that Greyson saw this?
Is he regretting loving me?
Is he coming back to me? Or the team?
FORTY-THREE
GREYSON
Twisted sheets, twisted mind. I think back to my parents saying it every morning as I look at my bed. And it's true. Reeling from Sutton's betrayal, I try to give myself perspective. It's not just my career on the line but J.D.'s, too. If the Armadillos don't win this season, J.D. will probably lose his job. Everything depends on my arm and my decisions. I made a bad one today. He was fine with me staying Sunday night with my former teammate in Minnesota, but he expected me back for practice today. Was I there? No.
"I'm coming!" Jesus. Who is at my door this late? The motion sensor causes the sidelights to come on, and through the glass, I see Sutton. I press my palm against the frame and take a deep breath as I turn the knob, unsure of how I feel, what to say, or how to react.
When I open the door, she barely smiles. "Hi," she says in a sheepish voice.
I want to get straight to the point.Go be with Bodhi. He's your first and only love. The guy who beats you.Instead, I ask, "Why areyou here?"
My voice doesn't hold a bit of warmth, so much so that I'm surprised by how devoid of emotion I sound. She reaches for me, and I take a step back and ask again, "What are you doing here, Sutton?"
She stammers, "Uh... I came to... to kiss you."
