Kat twirled her racket on one finger, waiting with Thomas on the court. “We could be serving or something.”
“We could be, but he asked for you to wait.”
“I’m being punished for being late.”
“Probably,” Thomas agreed.
Kat just grinned at the reminder of exactly why she was late. “It’s not like he could object to some serving practice. That’s me using my time wisely, not wasting it. This is wasting.”
Thomas merely smiled and shifted weight to the other foot. “When has Gary ever not had a plan even if we didn’t understand it at the time?”
She grumbled in return but knew it was true. Two days after returning from Los Angeles—having watched Michael and the Bobcats kick some serious Rams ass—Gary had produced with certainty the culprit. One of the homeschooling girls Thomas gave private lessons to had been sneaking around the back offices while waiting for their privates to start. Seems she’d been slowly stripping the empty office of items the last few weeks, as a dare from her fellow tennis partner in crime. Something about the thrill or some form of attention-seeking behavior.
When the young teen’s mother had found the stash of framed photos, tennis gear and various small office supplies she’d “borrowed” from the office in the past, she’d marched her daughter back to the tennis center to apologize first to Gary and then to Kat. The girl had been banned from the center, more for the video than anything, though her mother begged both Gary and Kat’s leniency in not pursuing any charges or legal backlash.
Kat had been ready to agree, not wanting to totally ruin a young girl’s future for a juvenile mistake she most certainly would never repeat—if the way she bawled nonstop during the confrontation were any indication. Kat felt positive the lesson had been learned. But Gary had been wise enough to ask the mother for a signed, sworn statement indicating her daughter—unnamed—had been the one to leak the video and said he would be holding it… just in case. They both agreed they would eventually shred the document, but it was comforting to have.
The video she and Michael had recorded had gone viral, thanks mostly to Michael’s passionate speech on the dangers of the Internet for kids who don’t understand there are people behind every screen. The scandal ended up fizzling out, with almost no ramifications to Michael’s career. Or Kat’s, for that matter. In fact, while she waited for a new sports agent, Martin Bennett, the lawyer working with Michael on the football camp, had agreed to help her negotiate any deals. She’d been offered a campaign with a nonprofit organization that raised awareness of cyberbullying. She’d taken it immediately, despite the fact that it paid zip. It was an important step, and she felt honored they trusted her brand enough to work with her.
“And here they are. That tall drink of water is my nephew, Thomas. And this… this one here who apparently is sleeping for fuck’s sake, is your new partner.”
Kat’s daydream spiraled loose, and she blinked. Gary stood in front of her on court one, a young woman beside him. She looked to be eighteen, if that, and had a tanned complexion that indicated a Hispanic heritage.
“Hi.” She held out a hand to the girl whose eyes widened. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, hi. Nice to meet you.”
So young.
“This is Talia Woods. She needs more experience. You’re going to give it to her.”
Kat narrowed her eyes at Gary. “What am I, a nanny?”
“I’m twenty-two,” Talia shot back, though Kat’s barb hadn’t been meant for her to begin with. “I don’t need a nanny, I need a partner.”
“How are your dance moves?”
Talia rolled her eyes. “I’m a Latina. We’ve always got moves.”
Kat grinned at Gary. “She’ll do.”
Epilogue
Kat sat beside Michael on the platform, looking out on all the hopeful young players on the field. They were sitting crisscross applesauce, their expressions full of eagerness and hope. A few even leaned forward, waiting with bated breath for the wisdom they were about to receive.
Remove the equipment and cleats, and it could have been a very tall group of kindergarteners.
Michael leaned toward her as the final group of ten, led by their camp coach, Chris Minikowski, sat in the back and were settled. “Is it my imagination or are they younger every year?”
Kat smiled softly and patted his knee. “I hate to tell you, babe, but we’re getting older. They’re the same age.”
He groaned. “Probably a good thing we’re out of the game. Who can compete with that much energy?”