Kit (Chicago Blaze 8)

The ropes circuits he makes us do are fucking hard. He follows that up with cardio, then more rope circuits. We end with stretching, my shirt completely soaked through with sweat that it pools on the mat beneath me.

“That was brutal, man,” I tell Josh, my abs still burning with exertion.

“Yeah?” He grins and claps his hands as we all stand up while groaning. “I’ve got something even better planned for tomorrow.”

“Yo, I’m not sure I’ll be able to move tomorrow,” Porter says.

“We’ve got a game tomorrow night,” I remind Josh. “You don’t want to burn us out on a game day.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m actually not working with you guys at all tomorrow, unless you want me to stretch you out. But the day after that, be ready for a challenge.”

“We’re on, but only if you call us by our nicknames,” I say. “I’m Fabio.” I gesture at Easy. “He’s Frenchie. And this guy’s Big Pussy.”

Porter scowls. “No one has ever called me Big Pussy, dickface.”

“We all call you that behind your back.”

Porter looks at Easy, the silent question in his gaze.

“We sometimes do call you that,” Easy confirms.

“What the fuck?” Porter grumbles.

“It’s because you make the same face that Big Pussy from The Sopranos makes,” I tell him. “And also because you’re a big pussy.”

“You guys are a bunch of dicks.” Porter grabs his towel from beside his mat and wipes his face and arms. “You want to get lunch or what?”

“Yeah, I do,” Easy says.

“I can’t. I have to get a shower and go meet with someone from PR about a newspaper thing.”

“What newspaper thing?” Porter asks.

“I don’t know. I think some article for the Chicago Gazette.”

Easy turns to Porter, a melodramatic gushing look on his face. “Our baby’s going to be in the newspaper. Oh em gee, this is so exciting.”

“Maybe we should buy him a new scrunchie,” Porter says.

I get so much shit from my teammates about my hair. Women love it, though. And it’s been long for so many years now that it’s kind of become my trademark.

Easy and Porter hang back in the weight room to talk while I go to the locker room and take a shower. Once I’m clean and dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, I walk up to the Blaze’s front office, where the secretary, Claudia, gives me a once over as I approach her desk.

“Kit, it’s so nice to see you,” she says while fluttering her eyelashes at me. “You’re looking very dapper today.”

I glance down at my black Nike T-shirt and then back at her. “Hey, thanks. I’m here to see Mira.”

“Yes, I saw your name on her schedule. Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I say as I take a seat in one of the plush chairs in the waiting area.

“Did you hear about my divorce?”

Every time I come in here, Claudia shamelessly hits on me. She’s been asking me if I heard about her divorce for almost a year now. She’s a nice woman, but I’m just not interested. I get how women feel when men only want them for their looks, because I go through that, too. So many women want to be seen with me or want to get their hands on me, but it seems damn near impossible to find a woman who just wants…me.

“I did, yeah,” I tell Claudia. “I’m sorry to hear about that.”

“Oh, no.” She waves a hand and then puts her elbows on her desk, setting her chin in her hands and staring at me. “It wasn’t a bad thing at all. He just wasn’t the right man for me. I need someone…taller.”

Shit. Things are about to get cringeworthy. I hate brushing off women, but Claudia refuses to acknowledge every hint I’ve ever given her that I’m not interested.

“Hi Kit,” Mira says as she walks into the main office. “Sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Nope, I just got here.”

“Are you sure I can’t get you something?” Claudia asks as I stand up. “Coffee? Water?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Come on into my office,” Mira says, leading the way down a hallway and past several doors until we get to hers.

Once we’re both inside, she closes the door behind her and softly says, “Sorry.”

“It’s no big deal; I didn’t wait long.” I sit down across from her desk as she walks around to sit behind it.

“I know, but Claudia is…enthusiastic when you come in.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“She wants to have your babies, I’m just saying.”

I laugh and say, “I don’t think that’s happening.”

“Anyway.” Mira clears her throat and smiles at me. “My husband wanted me to tell you that you had an amazing game against St. Louis the other night. He said you’re one of the best clutch players he’s ever seen play the game.”

“Tell him thanks for that. I really appreciate it.”