Page 29 of The Replay

Pen searches through her documents and gives me a copy of an email. "When I talked to the university about it yesterday, they said they're hoping for a photo op on campus. You know, they have their own PR agendas."

I skim over it, drinking some of my coffee. They're hoping for another shoot of sorts. Fun.

"I thought you could go there with Mariana," Evie says.

"Me because of the donation the Strike is making." Mariana holds back a sigh. "You, because you're not busy with anything else— foundation-wise."

I glance at her, then Pen, then Evie.

They're definitely meddling. Whatever this photo op thing is supposed to do for the foundation, they chose me on purpose because Mariana would be involved. When they have their pick of athletes, and could have spared me the trip.

Fuck me over twice. I've never said no to this stuff before. If I tried, Evie and Pen would see right through it, and I don't want to prove them right when they argue I'm clearly affected.

I drink half my coffee at once.

"Sure," I tell Evie. "Of course."

"We were thinking of a VO2 Max type shoot," Pen says. "We'll make it look sexy, with you all focused and running fast, while still appearing scientific with all those electrodes on you and stuff. They'll have lab people pretending to take notes too."

"I know this won't surprise you," Evie adds, "but I'd love some content from that as well. We'll send media people, but please, Mariana. Would you record from your phone as well?"

"Are you sure?" Mariana's lips tense. "I didn't get a lot of good material last time."

"Oh, it was great material. Haven't you checked the team's account? The video panning on his tattoos went mega viral."

Mariana glances at me, but she seems to be trying the same strategy I chose, and looks away in less than a second.

"I have not checked, no," she says.

"Well, you did great," Evie insists. "Do you mind doing it again?"

The pause isn't long enough for most people to think she's hesitating, but I do.

"Sure," Mariana replies. "Of course. I can do that."

I rub my lips together. Having her pay close attention to me had me on the edge. Of what? I refuse to answer that question. But she called me out on it. Worse, I liked it. When she stared at me like she wanted to break me with a simple look, not caring if we'd get caught or I ended up embarrassing myself in front of everyone, just to prove she could… I almost lost it. I had to think back to the pain I felt saying goodbye to her, or when she hung up on me a year later and my texts went unanswered, to keep myself under control. My compression underwear wouldn't have been good enough to hide things otherwise.

"The PR shoot is scheduled for next week," Evie says. "We'll get the info to you asap."

"I think we're done?" Pen asks. "I need to call a couple non-profits for the Partners' Party. I want some school kids to make garlands for the event."

They stand and exchange some small talk. I linger. Mariana is about to run out of the room when I hold her wrist.

"Can we talk?" I ask her. "It's about the university visit."

Her eyes drop to where we touch and I immediately let go of her. The parts of my unconscious that don't understand time or logic, keep pushing me to say things I regret immediately. Do things I should have thought twice of. Like touching her again, when I know what it used to do to me. Even now, after all this time, my fingertips tingle from the simple contact.

She gives me suspicious eyes. "Okay. We can go to my office."

I don't look at Evie or Pen. I don't want them to see the truth in my eyes, if I'm too slow to hide it.

Mariana bids a quick goodbye to my friends, and marches down the hall. I follow her until we enter her office. It's a standard room, painted in a creamy white with abstract sketches on the wall. The door opens to the desk, while a sofa waits tucked by the side wall. It's very much like every office I've been in at the Thunderdome, but Mariana's lacks the personal touches I've seen in Evie's.

"Must be different," I say, "working for the Strike, after everything you did in England."

I always imagined her in old European buildings, renovated from centuries past to accommodate her family's charity and the work she did with her in-laws. Or in old manors like one might see in period dramas, that she got to stay in by virtue of the family she married into. She went from fancy people in her parents' and ex-husband's circles to… us.

Except that, in a way, pro athletes are part of this country's upper echelon. It's only we don't have the history to back it up.