Page 13 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)
JUNE
LAST-DITCH EFFORT
Trailing after Cleo, I staggered through the inner maze-like hallways of the Colo until I found her in a meeting room, screaming into a purple throw pillow with believe in yourself! stitched on the fabric.
She froze when she saw me, caught.
I held out a hand and she passed over the pillow. I flipped it to the believe in yourself! side and belted a screech from deep in my throat because I had no idea what else to do.
Cleo sank into the couch. “The footage…we’re bound to go viral.”
“No doubt,” I replied, listless.
Denali burst in, covered in fresh bruises, Bear right behind him, looking even worse. Blood was smeared from his mouth and the bruises up his jaw looked horrific. His knuckles were bloody but none of that compared to the furious look on Denali’s face when he whirled around.
“You were supposed to be watching Elijah! ”
Bear jabbed a finger in Denali’s chest. “Why am I a babysitter? I told you he’s a liability!”
While they argued, Cleo pushed herself from the couch and closed the door. Something new crossed her face, some kind of resignation, and she cleared her throat. “We need to talk. I’m not here to get the hockey team together.”
That quieted the three of us and I stared at her, confused. What was she talking about?
“My job is to see whether or not the team is…salvageable.”
“You’re…?” Denali drew in a shaky breath. “They’re cutting the Gladiators.”
Cleo nodded and my stomach dropped.
“They brought us to this shit hole to close the park?” Bear said incredulously. “That’s why we’re here?”
“This is a last-ditch effort to get donor money, and you can see how well that paid off.” Cleo rubbed her temples. “If it’s deemed impossible, they’ll cut the team and with that goes the Colo itself. Both the hockey team and the figure skating teams are on the line. I thought Vernon would…”
“That’s why he doesn’t care,” I realized. “He knows what’s coming.”
Suddenly, it made sense. Why their coach was so hard to get a hold of, why the assistant coaches barely showed up, why Marrs stopped maintaining the arena. Why they seemed so resistant when it came to marketing. We were tied to a dying whale, sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
This was it. I didn’t have a place with the Romans, the housing department, and I certainly didn’t have a place with my organizations because my ex was with them. It wasn’t like I expected the Gladiators to randomly punch through their crappy past, but they were my last path to normalcy.
“I’m not getting my house back,” I mumbled.
“Who gives a shit about your house?” Bear shook his head. “Where does this leave me?”
“This won’t affect your draft status,” Cleo assured him.
“Draft status.” Denali rolled his eyes. “Boston would have to want him first—no good team will take him after North Dakota.”
Bear shot him a murderous look. “Shut the fuck up, Denali.”
The more I watched the three of them spiral, the more I saw us from an outside perspective. Alright, this was bad. Really, really bad. Yet the longer I let the failure settle, the more I felt something else. Kind of pissed off that it took one exhibition practice for us to succumb.
We had the entire summer ahead of us.
Fuck this.
I shoved up from the couch. “What are we doing? ” I snapped.
“This is it? The farthest we go? Oh, sorry, our effort stops here, who cares? No. Fuck that.” I rummaged through desk drawers, tossing folders and books aside.
“I didn’t buy new purple eyeshadow and move in with Bearshit Moreau to give up when Elijah starts a fight—which he always does! ”
I could feel their eyes on me as I took my place at the white board, marker in hand. I scribbled the five words we needed to confront.
HOW TO FIX THE GLADIATORS
“What are we going to do?”
“June…” Cleo sighed. “I’m tired. I miss football. I can’t get married if I rip my hair out.”
“Become an actual team. That’s what we need!” I wrote the first line, underlining it for good measure. “Those guys hate each other. That has to change.”
“We would need team dynamics,” Denali acknowledged.
Bear folded his arms over his chest, irritation rippling from him. “They need to learn how to play hockey .”
“Okay, play hockey.” I wrote that as the second line. “Which means…?”
“Set practices.” Bear grunted, shifting forward. “Accountability. Gym schedules. Riley Townsend getting rid of his stage fright. These guys need to play, or we can’t win .”
“Fire the head coach,” Cleo added.
I froze, marker hanging in the air. “Can we…?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do we…?”
“I don’t know.” She drew in a long breath, her face tightening with determination. “We won’t get anywhere without a good coach. If we want to win, Vernon needs to go.”
We exchanged looks. It felt like we were mapping out a mutiny in the belly of the ship, planning to behead and dispose of the captain.
Something new hung in the air—it was a grim acceptance but something else lingered underneath.
The sharp taste of anticipation. Slowly, I added the line to the bottom of the list.
“We’re actually doing this?” Bear said, testing out the words.
“We’re doing this,” I confirmed.
“No one can know how close we are to folding,” Denali decided. “If the team finds out, everyone will bail, and the program will shut down anyway. None of this leaves the room.”
I tapped my marker against my hand, staring at the list. I didn’t know how to fire a head coach, and I had no idea how to make the hockey players play well.
But team dynamics…
“Cleo?” I said softly. “We have Gladiators all over Roman Villa, from the second to the tenth floor. I think it’s time to round up the ponies.”
“Ooo…that’ll be so much paperwork.”
“June.” Bear’s frown deepened. “What’s rounding up the ponies?”