Page 4 of The Player in New Zealand
I snorted. “Yeah, he was.”
“Are you okay?” I hated the way her voice wobbled, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. The last thing I needed was more problem men in my life, and I hadn’t come halfway around the world to get hurt—physically or otherwise.
“I am completely fine,” I assured her.
“Really, really fine?” she needled.
“Really, really, really, really...” I tacked on about fifty morereallys until Iris interrupted me, laughing.
“Okay, okay, I get it.” She let her chuckle taper off and I heard a big gulp of air, my sister trying to clear her worry from her mind and move on. “I can’t believe he was that drunk. Surely you tried to bat your eyelashes at him and give him your best customer-service-fuck-you smile,” she teased me. I had a resting bitch face, unlike my sister, who was sunshine and rainbows. It was a miracle people let me work in the service industry.
“I called himsir.A lot.”
She hummed.
“Where are you anyway?” I asked. “What time is it there?”
“It’s seven. I’m getting ready for work,” she answered me absentmindedly. Iris was an office manager, the kind who stocked supplies and helped people in the law firm she worked for, brilliant minds with sharp suits and fancy degrees who couldn’t get the printer to work. I could picture her now pausing over her breakfast, tapping her chin with her finger, and could practically hear her thinking through the phone line. “He said, ‘Don’t you know who I am?’” she repeated.
“Yup.”
“Well, let’s find out who he is. What did you say his name was again?”
I sounded it out the best I could, mimicking the way Nina said it.Tah-nay. Then Iris asked Nina’s name, and the name of the bar, but before I could spell it for her, she interrupted me. “Aha!”
“You found him already?”
“Yes, Claiiiiire! You didn’t tell me he was so hot!”
“It was hard to focus on the hotness when I was being yelled at.”
“I’m sending you a link to his Wikipedia page.”
He has a Wikipedia page?“I’m on my phone, Iris, and I don’t have a laptop.”
“Put me on speaker.”
I looked around, verifying that I was, in fact, alone at the late hour, before I did, clicking the link when it came through WhatsApp. My eyes skimmed the page.
Tane Taumata, international rugby player, World Cup, MVP, gold medal, career-ending injury.
“Wow.” I scrolled back up more slowly, looking at the pictures. “Okay, he doesn’t really look that good in person....”
“Hush, I’m reading,” she reprimanded me.
I smiled at my phone. Iris was always more about the details than I was, and I bet she was cataloging all this info about Tane and practically profiling him. While I waited, I scrolled back up to the “Personal life” section.
It was pretty short. There was probably more information on Wikipedia about college football stars.
Tane Taumata was born in Auckland. His father was also a former New Zealand rugby player. During his time playing professionally, Tane was often associated with musician and model Nelly Buxly, though each has denied a relationship. In 2021, he opened Haft & Hops with his sister, Nina. He currently resides in Wellington.
I clicked on one of the sources for Nelly Buxly and found a picture of her and Tane together at a black-tie event. Tane, in a perfectly tailored tux, looked trimmer and younger. Miss Buxly was heavily made-up, platinum blond, and had a bust size at least three times my small B-cups. I rolled my eyes at myself and navigated back to the previous page.
“God, I bet that was hard.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, having forgotten that Iris was on the phone with me. “What was?”
“His injury. Claire, are you reading this thing?” she asked, exasperated. “He injured his ACL. More than once.”
