Page 17 of Linebacker
“Marshall!” he suddenly yells, making me jump out of my skin. Damn, this place makes me nervous. Or is it just a certain 6’1 linebacker that’s got me so jittery? “When you’ve done with your shower, I want to see you in my office.”
Mars turns his head, glancing over his shirt covered muscular shoulder. “Yes, Coach,” he replies, pushing the words through his clenched teeth. His eyes clash with mine, and even though he’s a good few feet away, I see the same darkness in his eyes. The same darkness that I remember from my school years when he was one of my tormentors. I thought we’d got past that. I thought that we were on a different level. But by the way he looks at me, even for mere seconds, I can tell that he’s pissed. Holy fucking shit, is he pissed, and not for one minute do I think that it’s directed at anyone else other than me.
“Come on, Hope,” Coach gently tugs on my arm, making me snap my eyes away from Mars’ retreating form. “Let me show you to the room we have all set up for you.”
“Bit of a frosty welcome, I got there,” I joke nervously as we walk down the hallway towards a bank of lifts.
“Don’t worry about that lot. They’ll soon cowboy up.” Leaning forward, Coach Scully pushes at all the call buttons, each one lighting up red as he hits them. On the fourth button, a set of doors open instantaneously.
“Cowboy up?” I ask curiously as we step into the lift.
“They’ll deal with it, accept it. Most of them you won’t have any trouble with, but those you do, then you come straight to me.”
“Let me guess. They’ll be the ones that need the additional sessions?” I huff out. “Not sure what you can do if they simply refuse to work with me.”
“Believe me, every single one of our players live to play, so all I need to do is threaten to bench them and it’ll soon get them in line.” The lift doors open, and we step out into a long, narrow hallway banked at one side with window views of the Montana skyline. The other, a selection of solid wood doors with various nameplates on them.
“For a minute there, I was wondering what kind of punishment you were going to use as leverage,” I snigger.
“Oh, sweet girl. Don’t think for one minute that if it came to it, I wouldn’t butt kick any of those hammer heads if they stepped out of line and disrespected a lady.”
“Hey, Coach,” I laugh out loud, louder than I intended to. Then I start to babble. “I hate to crush your impression of me, but it won’t take long, when you hear my cursing and such, that you’ll quickly realise I’m far from a lady.”
Yes, I get nervous whenever I start a new position, but this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve worked with some of the biggest football (or should I start calling it soccer while I’m here?) teams, but this is surreal. Maybe it’s because I’m now in the U.S. Or maybe it’s due to the fact that for the first time in my life I’m living the dream. My dream. The sport that runs through my veins, gets my heart pumping and is prominent in my private life, has now, at last, merged with my work life. This could be the pinnacle of my career or the start of so much more.
“A little cursing? You haven’t heard me yet.” He comes to a stop in front of one of the doors. The silver, shiny name plaque fixed to the front of this one has my knees almost buckling. Hope Palmer is in big, black capital letters for all the world to see. “Hope, I think you and I will get on just fine.”
When he pushes open the door and I step inside, I’m blown away. The room is large and airy. One side has an adjustable bed and other equipment, which will be perfect for the physical side of my job, like muscle manipulation, massage and such. Yes, I do that too. It’s all part of the package, and I’m multi-faceted. The other side of the room is in total contrast. It could be mistaken for any living room in a middle-class house. It holds a couch, coffee table, and a couple of high back armchairs. One wall is covered by a single large unit that has shelves, cupboards, and a flat-screen T.V. But what really makes this room, the thing that makes my heart rate tachycardic, is the floor to ceiling glass that faces out onto the stadium ground. When I walk over to the window, I’m mesmerized by the stark white markings against the rich green of the field. The sky is a perfect powder blue and the sun beating down gives the whole place a heavenly glow.
“Pretty special, isn’t it?” Coach softly says when he comes and stands beside me. “I never get bored with it.”
“That sure is one fucking amazing view,” I pant out. “I’ll take this over a picturesque sunset any day.”
“Now I know we’re going to get on,” Coach chuckles. “Why don’t you take a look around? You should find everything you asked for in the cabinets, but if we’ve missed anything we can get it ordered through the front office.” He says as he walks back over to the door. Turning back around to face me, he adds. “Make a list, and then when you’re ready, come find me in my office. It’s the last door down the hall, then we can talk further.”
“Sounds good.” I smile and continue to watch until he steps back into the hallway and closes the door behind him. Now on my own, I let out a mouth wide, face scrunching, silent scream while bouncing on my feet. This is far more than I ever could have imagined, and my life has just got mind-blowingly crazy and oh so fucking good.
CHAPTER15
After checking out everything in the room, I slip back into the hallway. I’m on a super high, almost skipping my way to Coach’s office. A quick knock on the door, still riding on this amazing buzz, I push open the door with a flurry and step into the office. “I think I have everything I need except…” When I glance up from the shortlist that I’d made on my iPhone notes app, my euphoria is instantly quashed when both Coach and Mars’s head swings in my direction. They’re standing face to face in the centre of the room, and even to the untrained eye, it’s clear that they’re in the middle of a heated dispute.
“Sorry, you’re busy,” I blurt out, suddenly feeling considerably awkward. Fuck, I’d forgotten that Coach had instructed his top linebacker to also come to his office. I should have held back, at least until I’d known the coast was clear. This only becomes clearer when I catch sight of the contempt in Mars’ dark eyes as he takes me in. His gaze seems to seep through the skin of my face like acid. “I’ll come back later,” I exhale quickly. I spin around and grab the door handle, ready to make a speedy exit, only to be stopped in my tracks by Coach’s deep, baritone voice.
“Not necessary. I need to talk to you both together, anyway.”
“I get it,” Mars barks out before Coach gets a chance to speak further. “She’s here to help the team heighten their skills. So, shouldn’t you be telling them that? I’m already at the top of my game and not in need of any mind over matter, psychobabble. Roster it up for those who need it.” Before I know it, he’s pushing past me to get to the door that I’m still hovering near, not sure of what to do. His shoulder brushes mine, and the static electricity that jumps between us crackles audibly.
“Get the fuck back here, Marshall. This meeting isn’t over until I say it is.”
Mars’ back becomes rigid with anger as he turns to face Coach again. His eyes connect with mine and are still seeped with the same hatred that I saw in the locker room and when I first walked into this office. “Coach,” he hisses between gritted teeth.
“Shut up and sit-down Marshall, before you push me too far and force me to bench your cranky ass.” The air is thick with tension, and I can tell by Mars’ body language that he’s teetering on the edge. Whether to do as Coach ordered or tell him to go fuck himself.
I really don’t like how this is going, and the last thing I want is for these two to butt heads because of my secondment within the team. This has to work. I need it to work because otherwise, what the hell am I doing here?
There’s no denying that seeing Mars has affected me more than I thought it would after all this time. I never expected us to react like two long-lost friends, but the level of his negativity towards me has knocked the wind out of me, along with my tenacity. But it’s time I pushed all that aside. If he wants to be the arsehole, the FUB of old, then bring it on. I, will be nothing but the professional that my five years of intense education and bloody hard work have led me to.
With my back straight, my arms firmly by my side, I stride confidently over to one of the two armchairs placed at this side of a deep mahogany desk that’s littered with various papers and sports paraphernalia. There’s a silver picture frame resting on one side of the desk with its back towards me, and despite being tempted to reach for it so I can see what’s on the flip side, I resist. No doubt it’s a family photo because I do know one thing about Coach, and that is that he’s a wife, two kids and a dog kind of family man. Instead, I sit, fold one leg over the over and rest my forearms across the arms of the chair. I can feel Mars’ eyes on me, so I meet them, my gaze then quickly flicking to the other vacant chair. It’s a subtle move but nonetheless a challenge for him to take a seat. I watch his brows pinch together, a clear sign that my actions are confusing to him. He’ll get it, eventually.
