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She laughed. Soft and musical. I liked it. “Everyone is calling you the captain now. Everyone. Marketing is already working on logos and promotional items. I think they’re planning a pirate night just for you. Don’t be surprised if there’s a special edition bobblehead with you wearing a black pirate hat in the near future.”

I groaned. I had a bobblehead once. Never thought it would happen again. “I can’t believe this is sticking.”

“The best nicknames are the ones you didn’t see coming.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” I sank deeper and deeper into this other person I became when Kate was around. I forgot who I was and everything I’d been thinking only a few moments ago. She took up all the space and I had to rise to the occasion and match her.

“No. Just my personal observation. My favorites are the ones that don’t make any sense except to the people involved.”

I closed my eyes, relaxing. Her voice had the ability to make me release all my tension. “Give me an example.”

She was quiet for a moment. The silence stretched long enough to make me curious what she was doing. “My parents call me Bird,” she finally said. “My mom loved reading me Are You My Mother? And I loved the way she read it. She’d always been an animated reader, but with that book, she really takes it to the next level. We developed this call and response even when she wasn’t reading. Just randomly during the day I’d say, ‘Mama bird!’ and she’d immediately reply, “Baby bird!’ We did it so much she started calling me that all the time.”

“I like that. I read to Rosie still. I dread the day she doesn’t want me to read to her anymore.”

“May that day never come,” Kate said softly. Then after a beat, “But you’re the Captain now whether you like it or not.”

“I do not like it.” I wasn’t really sure why. Maybe it was because I had one foot out the door. Taking on a nickname and bobblehead made this all feel permanent.

“You could be a sexy pirate,” she teased.

The teasing turned to flirting and I wished we had already graduated to video calls. I steered things back to work before I pushed too far. “Making any progress with the front office? Seems marketing is back on track.”

“Yes, actually. A lot of progress. And it is definitely a good sign that they’re inspired by their new manager. How’s the team coming together?”

“Not as well as I’d like. I think we’re going to have a rocky start to the season.” And I dreaded the questions that would come with it, but I was also prepared to take the blame. “This is a good team. They’ll figure this new dynamic out and then…they’ll be unstoppable. Is this what you plan on doing forever? Fixing companies, I mean.” I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to know what her life looked like.

“To some degree, yes. I can’t keep working this hard without burning out at some point. My friends, well, my family too, they all keep hounding me to slow down.”

I understood the meddling family all too well. “Why do you think you keep working this hard?”

More silence. Every time she paused I wanted to fill it. To say something or ask another question. Anything to make the silence stop. “I feel,” she said very slowly, drawing out the syllables, “like I’m rushing towards something. Like this thing I’m after is slipping through my fingers and if I just push a little harder for a little longer, I’ll finally catch up.”

“What is the thing?” For some reason that felt very important to know. As if it were integral to me somehow.

“That’s the thing—I don’t know. But I feel like one day I’ll just know what it is. It’s like being in a dark room. I know there’s a door and a light switch, but I can’t find them, so I’m searching. Fast, methodical, like there’s a clock ticking down and if I don’t find them in time it’ll all be over. I don’t know how long I have or what’s on the other side of the door that I’m working so hard to get to, but I have to hurry.”

“Wow. That’s⁠—”

“I know,” she groaned, “I sound like a workaholic or I’m being overdramatic.”

“No. That’s not what I was going to say.” I wished I could pull her into my arms to calm her down. As if that were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re tenacious, Kate.” And in many ways my opposite. “I admire you.”

“Oh!” she whispered back. “No one’s ever seen me like that.”

I very much enjoyed being the first.

12

Isaac

Istared at the statistics. At this point they were just numbers with no meaning. I had looked at too many for too long. The team loved math. For years now they used averages, algorithms, and formulas to build teams and predict games. Sometimes with shocking accuracy. I was good at math and understood what I was looking at. I wouldn’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.

But at some point this had lost its way.

“They’re fucking people.” I shoved my fingers through my hair and leaned back in the fancy desk chair.

“Excuse me, Cap?” Gordo slid across the room on his chair, coming into view.