Unsportsmanlike Conduct

by Sophia Henry

  I nodded.

  Luke had been captain of the Pilots when I first came to the team. We’d played two seasons together, off and on, as we both got called up to Charlotte and sent back down. He was a strong leader. Someone I admired. Someone who saw me as the player I was and didn’t try to change me into something else.

  I thought about telling him how much I’d always appreciated that, but it seemed too final, like I’d never play with him again, so I kept my mouth shut.

  When I’d finished gathering my stuff, there were only a few guys left in the locker room. They came up to me one by one.

  Fist bump from a teammate. “Good luck, Drago.”

  Another rubbed my head. “We’ll see you soon, man.”

  Then a veteran player punched my shoulder. “Get your shit together, Gribsy.”

  It felt like they were making the rounds at a funeral, giving their condolences to the grieving widow. I couldn’t wait to get to my car.

  —

  My flight to Detroit had been booked for the next morning, which gave me the evening to pack up the bedroom in the apartment I shared with Blake and figure out where I was going to live when I got back.

  I pulled out my phone and opened up my contacts. The very first one was Angel moy—”my angel.” That’s how I’d entered Kristen’s number into my phone.

  My thumb hovered over her number, but I couldn’t exactly call her and ask to move in. So I slid downward on the screen, scrolling until I reached Svetlana’s name, and pressed the phone icon.

  “Hey, Sveta, mind if I live with you for a little while?”

  Chapter 34

  DAY 68

  ROYAL OAK, MI

  Life is too short to waste time crying over a man.

  It’s healthy to mourn a loss—of people, pets, a relationship—but at the same time, I knew I had to pick myself up and continue on with my life.

  Before meeting Pasha, I’d gone years without caring if I had anyone special in my life. I like dating. I like kissing. I like having a person to hang out with and snuggle up to. But I don’t need a man.

  The best way I can think of to get over a loss is to prove to everyone that I’m still a strong, independent woman. Something as simple and silly as a heartbreak over a weeklong fake boyfriend wouldn’t take me down.

  I jumped back into work—and life—with more determination than ever. Before the cruise, I’d only been at my job for two months, and I’d made it a point to learn as much as I could in a short amount of time. Once I got back, I was relentless.

  Mike Rollins, my boss at Motor City Bar Management (MCBM), was neck deep in responsibilities. He’d been overseeing the renovation of one bar, hiring staff for a brand-new place, and dealing with all the headaches that go into keeping tabs on the rest of the thirteen bars MCBM owns. I didn’t have enough experience or knowledge to find the talent, negotiate contracts, and sign off on checks, but I could manage schedules, coordinate staff, and litter every MCBM property with marketing flyers for upcoming events.

  I’d been hired to take administrative and event coordination tasks off Mike’s hands, but I wanted to learn everything—and make more money—so I tacked on extra hours and helped at events that had been planned before I started working there. If a bartender or server called in sick at one of the bars, I jumped in to take their shift.

  At first Mike had been surprised at my willingness to help with all aspects of the bars, but after two months of taking as many things off his schedule as I could, I think he realized that taking charge was part of my personality.

  Working hard and striving to be the best had been instilled in me since birth. I come from a long line of business owners who hire family members to do everything. I’d done bookkeeping and appointment scheduling at Dad’s counseling practice, been a server at my grandparents’ diners, sold specialty olive oil at Uncle George’s stores, and even handpicked olives at the massive grove my family owns in Greece. Serving at a steakhouse and brewery for four years in college gave me even more experience to be an asset to MCBM.

  After being on my own for a few months, I realized just how quickly paychecks go when you live alone and have no roommates to share costs. I’d need every extra shift I could pick up and all the family discounts I could get, since my job only paid twenty-seven thousand dollars a year. I wasn’t complaining, but with the cost of managing CF and paying bills on my own, it was definitely tight.

  But I made it work because taking the job had never been about money. It was about independence and accepting a job because I wanted to do it, not taking something just to get by. Which meant I had to watch every single penny of my spending. Uncle George saved me by charging such cheap rent, but other costs piled up.

  —

  “Hey!” I greeted Auden, holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder as I carried a box of wristbands through the parking lot to my car. “I might lose you—I’m in the parking deck on my way to work.”

  “How’s work going?” she asked.

  “It’s good. Crazy busy. But fun. I’m working the 1975 concert at Meadow Brook tonight.”

  “No way! Wait—Meadow Brook isn’t owned by MCBM, is it?” Auden asked.

  “Nope. It’s a side hustle. I’m working their merchandise stand.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve flown up.”

  “Mike just asked me if I wanted to do it this morning.” I set the box on the floor in my backseat and shut the door. “Maybe I’ll hang out by the tour bus to see if I can hook up with Matty,” I teased, referring to Matty Healy, The 1975’s lead singer, whom Auden had a massive crush on.

  “You suck! You know he’s on my list.”

  After seeing the Friends episode with Isabella Rossellini, we’d each made our own list of five celebrities we could hook up with without it being considered cheating.

  “I’m telling Aleksandr,” I teased.

  “Aleksandr understands.”

  “Speaking of your super-hot, perfect husband,” I said, putting stress on the adjectives, “how are you guys doing? Pregnant yet?”

  “That’s not even funny,” Auden said.

  Startled by the strength of her protest, I let the phone fall away from my ear. Luckily I caught it before it hit the ground. Had I broken a mirror in the last few months? There had to be an explanation for my recent bad luck with phones. “What? Like that’s a crazy question.” I was pretty sure she and Aleksandr were humping like bunnies all the time. No one can be that careful, especially married people.

  “It is a ridiculous question. We’re not ready to have kids yet. Not for a long, long time.”

  “You’re totally preggers!”

  “Please stop. That’s how rumors get started, and Sasha can’t be worried about rumors like that during the season.”

  “Fine. But I better be the first to know if you are.”

  “The first?” Auden asked. “Shouldn’t my husband be the first to know?”

  “Nope,” I replied. And I was dead serious.

  “You’re a freak,” Auden said. “All right, I just wanted to check in. I’ll let you go, so you can get to the concert and become Matty Healy’s next groupie.”

  “Is that jealousy I hear?” I teased.

  “Nope. I’m giving you my blessing. Tell me all about it. But don’t snort coke with him. He should really quit that shit.”

  “I’d never snort coke with anyone.”

  “That’s my girl.” Auden laughed. “You sure you’re doing okay?”

  I sighed. “I am the best I have been in months. I promise.”

  “Good. Have fun at work, bitch ass. I love you.”

  “Love you back.” I hung up the phone and dropped it into the cup holder between the driver’s and passenger’s seats.

  Auden’s calls had become more frequent than ever before. I knew she was worried about me because of Pavel, but I’d told her a hundred times that I was fine, and I was. I’d jumped into an exciting job that kept me busy and challenged me. Over th
e last month, I’d finally been able to think about something other than Pavel Gribov.

  Chapter 35

  DAY 69

  ROYAL OAK, MI

  Fuck.

  I jiggled the door handle to Svetlana’s house in downtown Royal Oak for the tenth time. Still locked. I didn’t have a key, and when I called her phone, it took me straight to voicemail.

  When I’d spoken with Svetlana after my flight landed in Detroit, she told me she’d left the front door to her house unlocked when she left for work that morning. I’d had no problem getting in earlier, when I’d first arrived. But when I left to walk to a bar on the corner, I’d twisted the inside lock on the doorknob before I shut the door, out of habit. I hadn’t thought about it until I got home.

  I’d already tried all the windows I could reach to see if she’d left one unlocked. She didn’t have a garage, so I knew there weren’t any tools available to try to pick the lock or bust through something. Plus, I hesitated to break a window for fear a neighbor would think I was breaking in and call the police—since, technically, I was breaking in.

  After exhausting all the options I could think of, I sat down on the top step of the front porch, shivering and clutching my hair, trying to figure out what to do. I texted Blake: Who do I call if I’m locked out of Svetlana’s house?

  Blake texted back: Svetlana.

  I hated when he gave me the same kind of sarcastic answers I would have given him.

  She’s not answering. Should I call 911?

  Are you desperate to get into the house because someone is coming at you wielding an ax?

  I rolled my eyes. No.

  Then don’t call 911, Blake replied. Being locked out isn’t an emergency, dickbag.

  I hate you.

  Have fun sleeping on Svetlana’s porch. ;P

  Shaking my head, I put my phone back in my pocket. Then I realized the house was only blocks away from the fire station. The firefighters had to have tools to get me in.

  I stood up, shoved my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, and started walking for help.

  —

  I knew Auden would be disappointed when I told her I hadn’t even gotten to meet Matty Healy, let alone hook up with him. Turns out that when you work the merchandise table at a concert, you don’t get to hang out with the band, because you’re there until every last tween has purchased what they want. By the time I finished, The 1975’s tour buses had already departed for Chicago, where the band had a show the following night.

  Not that I really would’ve hooked up with any of the guys. I had a feeling tour buses were a breeding ground for every kind of bacteria and STD known to man. My immune system couldn’t handle rock stars. Guess I’d have to cross that dream off my bucket list.

  Panic interrupted my thoughts as I drove toward my apartment and saw two Royal Oak firefighters standing in the yard of the cute pale blue house two doors down from the Olive Tap. I slowed to a snail’s pace and kept glancing at the old house Uncle George had turned into a store. Thankfully, I didn’t see smoke or flames coming from it—or any house near it—so I returned my focus to the road and made a sharp turn into a nearby parking spot.

  I jumped out of the car and ran toward the store. Neither of the firefighters standing outside the blue house seemed to be in any kind of hurry. I sniffed the air and scanned the area once more, relieved that I didn’t detect any hint of a fire. Then I walked around the building to the side of the store, which took me to a staircase that led straight to my apartment, without going through the store.

  I’d just unlocked the door when I heard gruff voices and laughs. I paused to listen to the conversation, since the jovial tone verified that there was no immediate danger.

  “Don’t you have any neighbor friends you can give a spare key to?” one of the men asked.

  “Just moved back. Haven’t made friends around here yet,” said the unmistakable voice of Pavel Gribov.

  I’m a smart girl. I knew I should have ignored the voices and pushed through the door into the safety of my apartment. But the tiny, masochistic devil on my shoulder tugged me back down the stairs and out to the street. I peered around the corner of the store in the direction the voices had come from.

  Four men now stood on the lawn—Pavel and three firefighters.

  What was he doing there?

  “Are you okay?” the beautiful blond girl who’d been with him at Auden’s wedding asked from her car. She’d parked in front of the next house over, the one next to the store. “Sorry, I just got your voicemails.” Everyone turned to look at her, which meant they were all looking my way. I was 98 percent sure they couldn’t see me.

  I jerked my head back and closed my eyes as my heart hammered under my chest. Had he seen me? He’d looked in this direction, since the girl was parked between the blue house and the store, but I couldn’t tell. Did I dare look again?

  Yes.

  I craned my neck slowly and saw the firefighters speaking with the girl. Pavel was looking my way.

  Shit!

  I didn’t want to hang around to see if anyone spotted me creeping at two in the morning, so I backed away and pushed through the door to my apartment.

  At least I’d learned something interesting from my snooping. Pavel Gribov was back in Detroit. And his girlfriend—who Auden claimed wasn’t his girlfriend—lived a couple of houses away from me.

  Chapter 36

  DAY 75

  ROYAL OAK, MI

  The earsplitting “music” coming from the stage made me wish I hadn’t picked up this bartending shift. I wondered if Mike had booked this band, because if he had, I’d have to have a talk with him about how much they sucked. No melodies. No rhythm. Just screaming into a microphone on top of screeching guitars and thumping drums.

  Late nights and early mornings had taken a huge toll on my health during the first month of my job, until I got used to three to four hours of sleep at night and a mandatory afternoon nap. Thankfully, I was in the kind of work where I had the flexibility to do that. But I hadn’t been sleeping well ever since I found out Pasha and his girlfriend lived two houses away. What horrible thing had I done recently for karma to screw me over like that?

  The memory of them made me think about Pasha and what we’d done together, and I wondered if he was doing things like that with other girls right now.

  Everything made me think about him. How much I loved hanging out with him. And how strong he was. And how he understood me. Somehow, he understood me.

  Pasha. Ugh! Pavel freakin’ Gribov. Hockey star. Dickbag. Liar.

  No reason to waste time thinking about that sorry sack of shit. No sadness. No anger. I refused to let him take my emotions hostage.

  He deserved a firm smack across the—

  “Can I get a double shot of vodka, please?”

  Hearing Pasha’s voice was like bashing into a brick wall.

  I hadn’t expected to see him here. And judging from his wide eyes and scowl, he definitely hadn’t expected to see me here.

  I stared at him. Unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Unable to look away. But my body betrayed me, swaying toward him when I should have been stepping back.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?” he yelled.

  Understanding washed over me, waking the anger inside. I’d mistaken his expression as a sign that he was unhappy to see me, but it wasn’t that. His was a scowl of jealousy. He didn’t like seeing me in the standard sexist uniform for female employees—black crop top, black booty shorts, and fishnets.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded, ignoring his question. Pavel Gribov didn’t get to have an opinion on any part of my life anymore, especially my wardrobe.

  “Getting a drink.”

  “No!” I stomped my foot on the floor like an angry child beginning a tantrum. “You don’t get to be right here. In my space. My city. My life.” I stopped and pressed my lips into a firm line in an attempt to halt my trivial tirade. Especially since nothing coming out of my
mouth made any sense at all.

  As if on cue, a coughing fit overtook me, and instead of keeping the hard, angry edge I had going, I immediately flipped to a distressed damsel.

  Dammit! I turned my head to hack into my elbow.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pasha reach out, but I anticipated his move and smacked his hand away.

  “I don’t need your help,” I said between coughs. “I don’t need anything from you.”

  Anger shook each word, and I felt a meltdown coming on. I’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing me break down over him again, not after the wedding debacle.

  I sped to the other end of the bar to talk to the other bartender working tonight. “Danny, you’ve got a customer down there.”

  Pasha didn’t deserve any more of my emotions. No anger. No pain. He had zero for me, so why would I waste anything on him?

  He’d predicted this scenario the night we parted ways after our extended day in San Juan. He’d warned me. He’d said I wouldn’t like the person he was after the cruise. As puzzled as I’d been at the time, it all made sense now. Pavel Gribov had showed me his true colors. And they matched the colors he’d shown Auden years ago when she’d first said his name.

  On the cruise, he’d come across as a person who understood how much living life to the fullest meant—not just on vacation, but in the grand scheme of things. Now, though, I realized it was all part of his act to bring another person down to his level of misery.

  Despite everything I’d been through and everything I’d continue to go through, I hadn’t been a miserable person before I met Pavel Gribov, and I’d be damned if I would turn into one after spending one week with him.

  Chapter 37

  DAY 120

  ROYAL OAK, MI

  “You’re back!” I squealed, rushing toward Lena, who was standing behind the counter at the Olive Tap. When I reached my cousin, I leaned over and gave her a huge hug.