Vincent was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you remember the Rocco campaign you did five years ago?”
I nodded. The sneaker campaign had been my first major brand sponsorship. When I received my first check from them, my eyes nearly fell out of my head.
“I was originally slated to be their brand ambassador.” He flashed a bitter smile. “But I got into a fight with Pessoa after the shit he pulled with Scarlett, someone recorded it, and Rocco pulled my contract.”
I vaguely remembered hearing about the fight, but it happened before our rivalry truly kicked off, and I’d glossed over the details at the time.
“Shit.” I grimaced. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t responsible for Rocco pulling his contract, but if I were him, I’d resent the person who took my place, too.
Now, I understood why my transfer bothered him so much. I got into trouble and got rewarded; he got into trouble and got penalized. Granted, we were at a different level of fame five years ago—Rocco might’ve let the fight slide if it’d happened today—but feelings were feelings.
Vincent shrugged. “What’s done is done. My Nike contract later soothed the burn.” His mouth curled into a smirk. “Besides, I was Rocco’s first choice.”
“Oh, piss off.” But instead of being annoyed, I felt the tentative tendrils of understanding snake around us, softening some of our hard-baked bitterness.
For two people entrenched in a career where ego and reputation ruled the day, that wasn’t a small feat.
“But like I said, that’s water under the bridge.” Vincent laughed. “I’m just glad nothing happened between you and my sister, or we’d be having a different conversation. I can get past work-related problems, but family? That’s another issue.”
My short-lived relief solidified into ice. Scarlett. Letting go of our past resentments was all well and good, but our biggest obstacle for a friendly relationship continued to simmer in the background like a volcano waiting to erupt.
“Anyway, I’m glad we had this talk. Coach will be happy too.” This time, Vincent was the one who raised his glass. “You ready to kick Holchester’s ass this season?”
I forced a smile and tapped my glass against his. “Absolutely.”
“We can’t tell him yet.”
Scarlett stared at me from my phone screen. I didn’t want to risk going over to her house after Vincent and I left the Angry Boar, so I’d video called her instead and explained why I changed our plans earlier. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we have to rethink our strategy for breaking the news.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “You should’ve heard him. He mentioned multiple times how much he appreciated me not making a move on you while he was gone. That’s one of the main reasons he’s willing to bury the hatchet. If we tell him now, he’ll feel like a fool, which means he’ll probably take the news even worse than we thought.”
“Maybe he won’t,” Scarlett said hopefully. “Maybe he’ll take it better now that he doesn’t think you’re the devil.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Ugh. You’re right.” She dropped her head into her hand. “I don’t believe this. We were nervous about telling him because he didn’t like you, and now we can’t tell him because he does like you. I swear, the universe hates us.”
“We can still tell him. We just have to adjust our timing,” I said. “2075 should be an auspicious year.”
“Asher.”
“I know, I know.” I sighed, conflicted.
On one hand, we could stick with our original strategy and deal with the fallout as it came. That would give Vincent time to calm down before the preseason started.
On the other hand, I doubted two weeks would be enough of a buffer period for him to get over the news. He would start the season with fresh hatred of me, which wouldn’t be good for anyone involved.
Old me would’ve chosen option one, but I was trying to be more thoughtful and less reckless about the decisions I made. I couldn’t jump into a situation headfirst and expect everything would work out in my favor. I had to think of the consequences.
I also wasn’t stupid enough to call Coach’s bluff. He would absolutely condemn us to the bench if he felt like we weren’t working together well enough, and I hadn’t worked this hard to sit on the sidelines during what I was starting to think of as my redemption season. If I didn’t bring home a trophy come May and prove my critics wrong, I might as well pack up my boots and call it a day.
Plus—and I would never admit this out loud—my truce with Vincent had lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Clashing with someone on my own team took a lot of energy, and I needed every spare ounce of it if I wanted to beat Holchester.
“Maybe we can tell him during the holidays,” I said. “The spirit of giving and all that.”
Scarlett gave me a dubious look. “You want to tell him halfway through the season and ruin his Christmas?”
“Well, not when you put it that way.”
We sat in silence as we attempted to workshop a new strategy.
It didn’t work.
“Maybe it’s because it’s so late, but my brain is mush,” Scarlett said. “We can table this for now, but is it really better to tell Vincent after the season starts than before? What if he finds out before we’re ready? He’ll be even more upset if he hears about us from someone else.”
“I don’t know.” I tipped my head and stared at the ceiling, wishing it contained the solutions to our problems. “I really don’t know.”
CHAPTER 39SCARLETT
Turn. Turn. Plié. Step back.
I was practicing for Lorena alone in my studio. I went through the motions well enough, but I found it hard to focus the way I should.
