Page 19 of Linebacker
“You ungrateful asshole,” Coach hisses, bringing Mars’ attention away from me and back to him. “The board has employed Ms. Palmer, Hope, predominantly for your benefit and because she is the best in her field, so I will not have you undermining her in any way.”
“But you don’t understand. I know her.”
“I know that. So, what if you both went to the same high school over seven years ago, back in England?” Wow, I didn’t realize Coach was aware of that but it looks like he doesn’t care. “That’s a lot of water under the bridge. Unless there’s something you need to tell me about, like you two were boyfriend and girlfriend or something?”
“Fuck, no.” Mars scowls, shouting out far too quickly. “We weren’t even friends.” He adds with equal venom and hits me with a dark, dismissive glare. I realise hurts me more than it should, when a sharp pain hits my chest, dead centre.
“Then suck it up, buttercup. You’ll be involved in the team sessions along with three or four one-on-one sessions with her every week. End of discussion.”
CHAPTER16
It’s now Wednesday, four days since I touched down in Montana. Maybe touched down isn’t the right word to use, but it does sort of go with the whole football scenario. Coach decided that I needed a few days to get settled into the accommodation that I’ll be calling home for the next few months. Also, time to let the jet lag run its course, telling me that I wasn’t expected to officially start at the club until Saturday. I, however, am already going stir crazy and want to get down to business. By the end of the day I’d arrived, I’d unpack my two suitcases and given the two bedroomed place a once over. It hadn’t taken long, seeing how cleaners had already been in to take care of everything in lieu of my pending arrival.
I’d expected to stay in a hotel room during my time here but it turns out that wasn’t the case. After following the directions I’d been given, I was surprised, to say the least, when I arrived outside a very stylish block of condos. Sizeable windows and large balconies were dominant amongst the brick and white rendered exterior. It was difficult to figure out where one apartment stopped and another began, which gave you a false impression of how generous they were inside. Because when I took the lift to the top floor, punched in the security code to open the door and stepped inside, the breath I took in sharply got well and truly stuck in my throat.
The high ceilings, the abundance of light through the large windows, the clean, crisp lines of the open plan living and kitchen area are showroom stunning. The bloody kitchen itself, with its white, high gloss doors, stainless steel and black granite worktop, was bigger than my whole apartment at home. The living area, complete with two large white fabric sofas placed in an L shape, a black wood table separating them, sat next to an open fireplace. The impressive black painted chimney breast reached up to the super high ceiling. The plush rug on the hardwood floor and abstract artwork tying in perfectly with the colour scheme, finished the look. It’s homely, yet modern and fucking breathtakingly lush.
I’d cracked out a ‘Jesus H Christ’ when I’d flipped open a couple of the kitchen cupboards to find that it was fully stocked with everything I’d need. The big American fridge freezer hiding behind another glossy door was fully stocked, too. Damn, there’s even a chilled drinks fridge with beer, vodka, every shade of wine and champagne, which made me laugh out loud as I wondered if this was normal in Montana, or if they’d been influenced by the inflated tales of the English and their drinking habits. It wasn’t until after checking the large outside terrace with heart-stopping views across a lake that, when stepping back inside, I noticed the upper floor. The second bedroom was on the same floor, but a set of spiral stairs took you to an open walkway shrouded with more floor to ceiling glass towards a short hallway. The master bedroom and en-suite bathroom impressive, with a shower so high-tech that I might need to take a master’s degree on how to use it. There’s lots of closet space and a bed big enough for a foursome, if I ever happened to fulfil my fantasy. Finishing off this exquisite accommodation is a house bathroom with double sinks, shower cubical and a freestanding bath that with my short-arseness, would need some serious negotiation when it comes to getting in and out of it.
I spent day two checking out the area and picking up a few things, such as favoured toiletries, fresh fruit and vegetables for my morning smoothies. Day three, after a few hours in the onsite gym that I happened to fall upon, I had vegged out on the sofa with a bucket load of popcorn and binge watched the fourth series of Chicago Fire for the third time. Yep, I could have paid for series five and six, but hey, it goes against my Yorkshire blood to pay for something that will probably be free in a couple of months. I decided that however much I loved my new living environment, enough was enough. Today, day four, I made my way into the club.
When I walk into my office, I get another rush of ‘I can’t quite believe that this is my life’ buzz. In my arms, I have a box of massage oils that I swear by, and the handheld recording machine that I use. I write notes too, but I’m always a little paranoid that I might miss something, a gasp, a waver in their voice or simply the tone. I find it comes in very handy when I’m putting all my information onto my database. I’m just placing the last bottle of oil onto the shelf near the massage table when there’s a knock on the door.
“Come on in,” I shout, wondering who has noticed me slip in, even though I haven’t passed anyone on the way.
“Hey,” Lucy’s head appears from around the partially open door. “I thought I saw your car in the parking lot.”
“Morning Lucy.” I hand gesture for her to come into the room. “What can I do for you?”
“I…” she stammers as she steps up to the other side of my desk. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting you in until Saturday, so I wasn’t prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” I question, not sure why she’s being so apologetic.
“To have your schedule ready for you so I could make any amendments. And anything else you might need, of course,” she replies. The bridge of her nose and forehead creases as she looks back at me. “As your assistant?”
“Assistant?” I snigger. “I didn’t even know I had one. Tell me, Lucy, what actually is your job role here at the club?”
“I’m meant to be the assistant to the coaches, and now of course you, but as the teams PR manager walked out a little over a week ago, I’ve been asked to cover the role as much as I can until they can recruit someone new.”
“That’s some expensive, high-level shoes you’re having to fill.”
“It’s only for a little while,” she says to justify the situation. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”
“Watching Kelly Severide was getting me far too hot and frisky. I nearly got out my toy box,” I let out a long, dramatic sigh while fluttering my eyelashes.
“Really?” she giggled behind her hand. “Funny, he has the same effect on me.”
We both laugh out loud, and I get the sense that Lucy could quite possibly be my bestie while I’m here, because by the looks of it, the female species within the club is limited.
“Anyway,” she says when we both stop acting silly. “I have the first few appointments set-up for you and also player files.” She drops a handful of grey cardboard folders onto my desk.
“Jesus, don’t they believe in interface technology in this place?” I gasp, astounded that they were still working on paper.
“Some don’t,” she chuckles. “But not to worry, it’s all on the database too, it’s just I wasn’t sure if like some of the coaches, you prefer the less,” she air quotes “technical option.” Flipping the top folder in front of me open, she points to the first page. “Your personal login and password to get on the main system are here. But there’s also information on how to set up your own secure folder, how to password protect and secure it to stop anyone else from seeing your notes and records. Even coach Scully won’t have access. This is purely for your access only. I know it goes without saying that we recommend you change your passwords on a regular basis and never share with anyone.”
“Of course, and I believe despite the fact that I stick strictly to the patient confidentiality rule, that I’ll be required to sign a non-disclosure agreement for each of the players I work with on a one-to-one basis.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, but the players are insisting on it.”
