The Long Game (Long Game, #1)

“No mientas, Adalyn.”

Ugh. She knew me too well. “I’m not lying,” I insisted, brightening my tone and feeling like a total fraud. “This is just a work trip.” I had to swallow before continuing, and even that way, my voice wavered. “Everything’s going great and there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

A thick silence followed my statement.

“See?” I heard my father tell her. “She’s okay. She’s also an adult, for crying out loud. You’re smothering her.”

I heard another of my mother’s gasps, followed by rushed steps and a door closing.

“Hello?” I asked into the phone. “Mami?”

“Your father is being annoying,” my mother announced. “Like always. That’s why I never married him.” She clicked her tongue. “I went into the bathroom of his office because I don’t want you saying things you don’t mean because he is listening.”

That… stung. But I didn’t think I had the heart to argue it. “It would mean a lot if you could trust me.”

“Trust,” she huffed, but it wasn’t with malice. “Then why didn’t you say anything? And why is your father not telling me where you are? Why did I have to come here to find out that you had left Miami?”

“What are you doing in the facilities?” I dodged. My mother never set foot in the stadium. She barely ever left Coral Gables.

“I came looking for you. After I saw that horrible, awful video. I was talking to Matthew, you know, during our weekly call and he—”

“I’m going to murder him, I—”

“Adalyn Elisa Reyes.”

“Sorry,” I said, even though Matthew was still going to hear about this. A gulp of air left my lips forcefully. “I’m also sorry about not telling you I was leaving. And about the video.” My eyelids flickered closed for an instant. “What I did is inexcusable.”

“Inexcusable.” A trail of curses in Spanish I didn’t catch left her mouth. “You’re my daughter. There’s nothing you can do that I will not excuse. And that Paul? He always had a mouth on him. What did he say to you, huh?” Something in my stomach twisted. Paul hadn’t said anything. The worst he’d done was be in my way when I’d… lost it. “You know what? I don’t even want to know. I’m going to go down to wherever he is and tell him that he’s old enough to look for a real job. You know, one that doesn’t involve costumes with feathers.”

“Please don’t,” I said, biting back a groan. “And he’s a performer, you know that. We pay him well for what he does.”

“Too much, probably. I would like to see him in a restaurant’s kitchen. Now, that’s hard work. Not swaying his ass for a crowd.”

“Mom.” I groaned. “You used to be in the entertainment industry. You modeled. That’s not so different from what Paul does.”

“And I was in many kitchens before that. Ugly, filthy kitchens at that. I bet that boy hasn’t lifted a finger in his life.”

“I… There’s…” No point in discussing this. “There’s something I need to talk to Dad about. Can you please pass him the phone?”

Maricela Reyes sighed the sigh that told me she wasn’t done with me. “Work. It’s always work. ?Y qué hago con los pastelitos que te traje? I thought they’d cheer you up. The internet is so mean. The comments under your video are—”

“Kelly will love them,” I interjected. I did not want to hear about what the internet was saying. “Give the sweets to her.”

“Fine, I will. And I love you, okay? Call me if you need me, ?sí?”

“I promise,” I lied again. I wouldn’t need anyone but myself to get out of this.

There was some noise on the line as she returned to my father, and then, his voice cut a curt, “Yes?”

“I…” I started, making the mistake to trail off for a second too long.

“Adalyn, I don’t have all day.”

I squared my shoulders, even if my father couldn’t see me. “I thought you were calling to update me on the status of… things there. In Miami.”

“It was your mother calling.” A pause. “And I remember very clearly telling you to give all your focus to the assignment.”

“If there’s anything that I can do from here, I—”

“You’re not needed over here, Adalyn. Your assistant is handling things. And I was very specific: no remote work.”

That sliver of hope was snuffed right out, leaving me with a hollow spot in the middle of my gut. “Is that why my access to the system has been revoked?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “You’ll reach out to David if there’s something urgent that needs my attention. You must still have his private number from when you two… were involved.” Involved seemed to be a stretch now that I’d learned what I had. “Anything that’s not urgent, you will account and detail and record to—” He stopped himself with an irritated sigh. “Have you not read the memo?”

The one-page memo about the Green Warriors where it was not specified that the team was a recreational U10? I had. Now. A little too late apparently. “Yes, I have.”

“Then you know what to do. We’re sponsoring the team now, so think of it as an extension of the Flames. I expect to get a good story out of this. You should arrange for a few journalists to write about how much good we are doing for a rural community. Create a success story out of it.” Another sigh. “This is a waste of time. Everything should be obvious to you, Adalyn.”

I felt myself sink into the bleachers. Maybe it should be. “Speaking of the team, though, the, um, Green Warriors. It’s… not what I expected.” I waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t I felt the need to fill in the silence. “The accommodation is also less than ideal, unfortunately. The cabin is—”

“What exactly are you trying to tell me, Adalyn?”

“That…” I could have said a hundred possible things. I used to be someone who worked well under pressure, so I knew I could have come up with smart, well-reasoned arguments as to why this whole thing was… ridiculous. Way under my paycheck. But instead I blurted, “My accommodation is subpar and I’m supposed to work with a children’s team.”

A bitter burst of laughter echoed in the line. “Well. You lasted all of twenty-four hours before giving up.”

The words felt like a blow to the middle of my chest. And for whatever reason, my head decided to throw a very similar statement back at my face. Cameron’s. I don’t think you will make it a single night there.

“I don’t blame you,” my father continued. “Leaving behind the comfort of the life I’ve provided for you is not easy. So fine, I’ll send you somewhere else. Have a pick, Underwood Holdings has enough options to keep you busy until this blows over. I always believed you’d be better suited for real estate anyway.”

All the blood left my face, dropping to my feet with a swoosh. “But that’s not what I want. You know that.”

“What do you want then?” he asked me even though he knew the answer to that: the Miami Flames. My job. My life. Respect from him and David. He pressed, “Run back home? You can. Contrary to what your mother said, I have no intention of keeping you there against your will. But I can’t give you your job at the Flames back. Your face is still dangling around like we’re a bad joke.”

A bad joke.

My throat dried. My heart was pounding. Everything from that day came rushing back. I felt cold and warm, all at once. “I’m not running back home. I can do this. I will fix this.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he said, and I hated the relief that half-hearted comment made me feel. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go search for your mother before she wreaks havoc in the office.”

And before I could say another word, the call ended.

My hand fell to my side as I blinked, staring into empty space.

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