Playing the Field

by Lark Maren

  “Home’s that way,” she said as I turned right at the intersection.

  “Well, I’m already half an hour late for practice so you’re just going to have to come with me. Maybe if you could keep your ass out of jail you could be home right now.”

  She groaned and turned her head away from me, obviously giving me the cold shoulder, and I just turned up the radio. I didn’t feel good about how I handled this situation, but I didn’t know what I could’ve done to make it any better. I didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. I was playing it by ear. I came to the conclusion that until I could get us a new place in a different school district, one of us was always going to be miserable.

  It was Areal’s turn. The stadium was the only place in the world where I felt free from all this drama. Where I felt like I was accomplished, like I was talented. Like I was useful. Like I always knew the right thing to do, and I always had my team behind me.

  I got out of the car and grabbed my bag, sprinting towards the field, Areal trudging behind me, looking like being seen with me was the worst thing that happened to her today. I ushered her to the bleachers and warned her I was keeping my eye on her before making my way to the grass.

  My team was already split up on the field in two formations, and Hillary, our backup cornerback, cheered and started jogging off the field when she saw me. “Keep her out there,” I said to my coach, Savannah. “I need a long warm-up.”

  “You alright?” Savannah asked. “Is everything okay?” I shook my head no, blinking back tears from my eyes. Savannah had been my coach and mentor for the last eight years, but I really wasn’t comfortable dumping this day on her. We were here to play. Even if this was possibly going to be our last season, she still showed up every day for us, and I wasn’t going to waste her time.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Sorry I’m late. I’ll take a couple extra laps.”

  “You really don’t have to,” she said with a chuckle. “Unless you’re in masochistic mood. Then by all means, take four or five, then get out there on the field. Poor Hillary looks like a fish out of water.”

  I smiled and started my warm-up drills. My body was stiff from moving lumber all day, but I always found that running some laps seemed to work out all the kinks, or at least show me where they were so I could stretch appropriately. My salty tears stung my eyes, but before I knew it the cool breeze on my face dried them up. The more sweat that poured from my body, the happier I felt. The freer I felt. The sound of the whistle blowing and Savannah’s shouts got my blood pumping. I was right where I belonged. I looked over my shoulder and smiled at Areal, who had her schoolbooks spread out all over the bleachers, and sprinted over to Hillary, tapping her on the shoulder.

  “Oh shit,” our wide receiver, Kelly, shouted as I got into position, “she has that look. She’s hungry! Y’all better watch your asses.” I felt that tingle in my spine that usually turned me into a ferocious beast. I knew I needed to dial it back. I didn’t need to beat up on my teammates. We were just running plays.

  “Quit with the shit talk. You know it makes me horny,” I teased.

  “Everything makes you horny, you crazy hoe,” she snapped back. I nodded over to my sister in the bleachers, thankful she had her headphones in.

  “You’re not lying, though,” I giggled.

  “That’s enough,” Savannah said, blowing her whistle as we all broke out into a fit of laughter. “Can yinz stop being thirsty for the next twenty minutes, please.”

  I bowed my head and got into position. Her whistle chirped and I stalked Kelly down the field with laser precision. Before the ball could even leave the quarterback’s hands, Savannah blew her whistle again.

  I looked over and groaned. Standing right next to her was a frazzled-looking Lindsay Ross, still dressed in her work clothes, and right behind her, the infamous ‘cupcake.’ Savannah slapped her hand over her mouth like she was trying to hold back something really offensive, but her eyes said it all. Lindsay looked defeated, hunched over, gripping her head like she was mid-migraine.

  Cupcake, on the other hand, shit-eating grin was an understatement. I wasn’t sure if it was the Botox that made her face stretch like that, or maybe she’d just got another Lamborghini for her twenty-four-and-a-half birthday, but she looked like she was about to explode. If she thought she was going to play football with us, she definitely had another thing coming. I’d never discourage any woman from playing, but she was going to have to learn how to take a hit like the rest of us. I really couldn’t see uptight daddy being thrilled about his cupcake getting smooshed. Then again, he technically owned the team. My skin crawled at the thought of us having to delicately dance around princess cupcake, never saying or doing anything to hurt her fragile ego or bust her eighty-dollar manicure.

  “Can we just get back to it?” I shouted while the three of them talked on the sidelines. “I have to be at work in an hour.”

  Without hesitation, that little blonde bitch pulled a whistle out of her pocket and tooted on it. “Huddle up, team!” she shouted. “Over here! I have some great news for you!”

  Chapter Five

  Ella:

  Nobody seemed to be in too big of a rush to get over to the sidelines to talk to me. That was all about to change as soon as they found out the great news. I wasn’t sure why Coach Savannah had her hand over her mouth like she was going to throw up or something. She was probably just overwhelmed. Before too long, everyone was standing in front of us in a half circle.

  The women stood there mumbling to themselves, staring at their feet, and Coach Savannah cleared her throat. “Women, I want you to be open-minded about what you’re about to hear. Miss Morgan has an announcement to make, and I want you to take it all in stride. Think about the big picture, ladies.”

  “Thank you for that… um… interesting introduction,” I said sheepishly. “My name is Ella Morgan. As you probably all know, my father, Richard Morgan, bought the Pittsburgh Lady Cats in early 2019. Unfortunately, he didn’t understand the implications of his investment, and has decided he no longer wants to be the CEO.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” the redhead quipped as she rolled her eyes at me. The tall brunette standing next to her slapped her hand over the woman’s mouth, but I just widened my smile and straightened my posture. What I was about to tell them next was going to change everything. She was in for a surprise, surprise, but it wasn’t going to be the kind that made her roll her eyes.

  “You’re right. I will be the first to say that my father was clueless about the best way to manage this team. It’s not that he’s an ignorant or uncaring man; he just doesn’t have the time in his day to oversee something that needs such a dramatic overhaul.”

  “Yikes,” one of the players whispered, and Coach Savannah began shaking her head.

  “I just want to know what this has to do with us?” the redhead asked. “We’re just here to play football. We don’t get paid. We show up and play a sport we love, and that’s the end of that.”

  “Can I ask you your name?” My voice was wavering, but I tried to hold it together. She was so stunning, but I could tell everything that came out of her mouth was a direct hit towards me. She was obviously skeptical, and I needed to reel her in before it was too late.

  “It’s Tonya. And should we ask you if you prefer to go by Miss Cupcake or Ms. Cupcake?” The rest of the team began to chuckle, and I bit my lip.

  “Tonya, that’s enough,” Coach Savannah said sternly. “Please listen to what Ella has to say so we can get back to practice.”

  “I swear I won’t take up much more of your time,” I assured them. “And you’re correct, Tonya. Up until the 2019 season, nobody on this team got paid unless they were staff or management. I personally don’t think that’s fair. All of you play an important part to this team and this organization, and I plan on doing my best to make sure you’re adequately compensated.”

  “Wait, what?” one of the girls shouted. “Are you serious?”

  I s
miled. “Obviously, we are going to have to do a lot of work to get this team profitable, but yes. I think you deserve to be paid for your efforts on the field.”

  “I think I pegged you all wrong this whole time,” a brunette said, pushing herself up from the grass. “You’re a lot smarter than you look.”

  “I don’t like it,” the redhead said, throwing her hands up in the air and walking away. “Sounds way too fucking shady to me. I know how you people operate. You roll in here all high and mighty, making promises that sound just good enough that they’re believable. You figure out our bottom line, the very bare minimum we’re willing to sell our souls for, and you exploit that. We all sign paperwork, and all of a sudden you don’t just own our team, you own us. That’s not what I’m here for. I get enough of that at my two day jobs. I’m here to play football with my friends. You might be able to take the team away, but we will always be players. We won’t be your little publicity puppets. We’re not your fucking charity case, cupcake.”

  She grabbed her duffel bag from the sidelines and ran up into the bleachers, helping a teenage girl stuff some books into her backpack. I watched the whole time, my hands shaking, not sure of what I could say or do to come back from that. She was seeing it all wrong. I didn’t see her as a charity case. I saw a bunch of strong athletes that deserved to be compensated for their time. Ms. Ross had warned me this might happen, but I didn’t believe her. Why couldn’t these women understand I was just trying to be kind?

  Coach Savannah didn’t offer me much consolation. She wasn’t saying anything at all. She stood there with her hands in her pockets, her expression blank. None of the girls in the huddle would even look at me.

  “How about we make the most of these last twenty minutes, team,” Savannah said. “Fifty forties, please.” She blew her whistle and they all lined up on the edge of the field, giving her the middle finger and swearing under their breaths the whole time. Maybe they weren’t giving her the middle finger. Maybe that was aimed at me. I couldn’t help notice how every time I looked over at them running up and down and turning around, there was at least five sets of eyeballs on me.

  “They really don’t like that, do they?” I asked her.

  “I was trying to make them more upset with me than they are at you. Not sure it’s working. I think we’re both taking the heat right now.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m trying to make things better for everyone. Why can’t they see that?”

  “Have you ever walked a mile in any of these women’s shoes?” she asked. “Most of these girls have had hard lives. Most of them have to work two or three jobs just to put food on the table. They spend their entire lives working for people like you and your father, Ella. They’re used to being manipulated and treated unfairly by the system. You coming into their safe space and trying to turn it into the very thing they’re trying to get away from at the end of the day? That just doesn’t fly well.”

  I was having trouble wrapping my brain around what she was saying. I didn’t even get to tell them about my plans for a new workout facility, or the new uniforms I was going to buy, or the two-week yoga retreat in Laguna Beach I had planned for everyone as a postseason celebration. They weren’t even trying to hear me out. They already had their mind made up that I was just like my father, just some rich person here to suck the joy out of their lives. Tonya was the worst of them all. She was the one I was trying to win over the most, and she was so appalled by me she had to physically remove herself from the situation.

  What was I getting myself into?

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, we’ll at least get to play another season,” I said. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  She had tuned me out as well. She wandered over to the sidelines, blowing her whistle furiously as the women continued their back and forth sprints. I didn’t even want to stick around for them to get off the field. I walked away, my tail between my legs, head hung low. Maybe my dad was right. Maybe walking away from all of this was my best possible option.

  Chapter Six

  Tonya:

  “Get up,” I said, pulling the comforter from my sister’s body. “It’s after noon. You’re suspended, not on vacation.” I was in a terrible mood already after standing outside in the scorching sun for the last eight hours, twirling a road sign while the construction company I worked for tarred and chipped a chunk of busy highway. Coming home to Areal still sound asleep in bed, my mother nowhere to be found, didn’t do anything to brighten my mood. I went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee so I could reenergize before my night shift at the bar, and the can was empty.

  “What the fuck,” I shouted, pounding my fist on the counter.

  “What is your problem?” Areal appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping the sleep from her eyes and yawning. I held out the empty coffee container. “Let’s just go out for coffee like normal people.”

  “You’re suspended from school. You’re not going out for anything. And what do you want more, Areal? A mocha frappe or to move out of this shit hole apartment?” I tossed the empty can into the trash with a loud thud. My face was burning up red, and I felt like I was about to explode. It wasn’t just the coffee. It was everything in my life blowing up at once, from Areal getting suspended for smoking in the bathroom, my mother not coming home for the last week, the tag hanging from the front door when I got home today telling me they’re about to come shut our electricity off, down to my football team getting desecrated by the richest people in the city. “They literally have their hands in everything! Why can’t they leave my shit alone?” I swiped my arm across the countertop, bills flying everywhere as I screamed up at the sky.

  “What are you talking about?” Areal asked.

  “Nothing,” I muttered. “I’m going to take a shower. Then I’m going to take a nap. When I wake up, you better be dressed and ready to go.”

  “Where,” she groaned.

  “You’re coming to work with me tonight. You can sit in the back and do your homework and afterwards I’ll take you grocery shopping.”

  “Why?” she shouted. “I stay here by myself all the time.”

  “Because,” I said, holding up the trash can, showing her the pile of cigarette butts on the top. “This isn’t the brand Mom smokes. So either you’re smoking, or you’re having friends over who are smoking, and neither one of those options make me trust you.”

  I dropped the can on the kitchen floor and stormed off towards the bathroom, shaking my head the entire way.

  “Why do you ride me so hard?” she whined from behind me. “It’s not like you were perfect when you were my age. I’ve heard stories. Aunt Mae said you got two underage drinking charges before you were even fifteen.”

  “I want better for you.” I turned on the faucet to the shower, and it hissed and stuttered for a moment before starting, leaving me even more on edge. I know I paid the water bill. “I don’t want you to end up like me.”

  “Oh, I promise, ending up like you is the last thing I want,” she said, slamming the bathroom door. The sound of that was physically painful in my bones for some reason. Knowing she was absolutely dead nuts serious about not wanting to be like me, that hurt too. Who could blame her, though? I worked myself into the ground every day. I couldn’t keep a girlfriend for the life of me because it was just another layer of stress I didn’t need. I never had a high-paying job. I was twenty-six-years-old and lived in a dump of an apartment with my absentee mom and my little sister. I didn’t know what I ‘wanted to be when I grew up;’ I never had that luxury to dream. Waitress slash construction worker seemed to fit for now, but that could change on the drop of a dime.

  I ran the water as cold as I could possibly stand, letting the icy liquid pelt my skin as I tried to hold back my hisses and screams, hoping it would help cool my temper, but I just ended up with eyes full of shampoo.

  I tried to take a nap, but our upstairs neighbors had other plans. I wasn’t sure if they were moving their furniture or hosting a tap da
ncing convention, but either way it sucked. I dragged my weary body into the living room to sit on the phone with the electric company until I could get things straightened out, and Areal flipped through TV channels, dramatically sighing every time I breathed in her direction.

  My stomach growled as I got dressed in my white shorts and black polo shirt, french braiding my hair down the middle. I put on enough make-up to hide my exhaustion, slung my work shoes over my shoulder, and paced the apartment as Areal took her happy time waiting for her fingernails to dry.

  “Get your books,” I said. “This isn’t play time.” She begrudgingly threw her backpack over her shoulder and we drove to Phil’s Place in silence. I set her up in the break room, grabbing her a soda like I’d done a hundred times before.

  “Put whatever she wants to eat on my tab and I’ll pay it at the end of the night,” I told the line cook as I grabbed a salad out of the cooler and smothered it in ranch dressing. I quickly shoveled it into my mouth before clocking in for my shift.

  “Come on, seventy-nine dollars,” I said, tying up my apron. That’s all I needed in tips today to put me in the black and have fifty bucks leftover for groceries if I accounted for my morning shift. The place wasn’t super busy yet, but hopefully that would change when wing night started. This was one of the best shifts of the week, and I put on the happiest face I had, knowing I needed to milk it for every penny.

  As tables started filtering in, I got into my rhythm, bopping from table to table, slinging beers and putting in endless orders of chicken wings. Waitressing was definitely not the worst job I ever had, and it seemed to be one I always fell back on no matter what other kind of job I had. Sure, people could be difficult, but I could usually grin and bear it, let off a little steam after we closed for the night with my coworkers over maybe a few too many shots of Yukon Jack. Sometimes grinning and bearing it was the best way to go, especially when I was having a day like mine. People always say pretending to be happy is unhealthy, that you shouldn’t bottle your emotions, but I’ve found in my life, 90% of the time, pretending to be happy was the closest thing I got to the real thing. Same with my relationships. I could pretend to be in love with somebody long enough to hook up and have a good time, no real thing required at the end of the day. It was all an act. Just like I was acting like I didn’t notice the way old Mr. Creepy was staring at me whenever his wife looked away.