“I’ll meet you there,” Kulti said before disappearing into the first restroom we came upon.
All right. I had no clue what the hell we were going to do, but I continued toward Cordero’s office. His secretary was at her desk. She looked what you’d imagine an older secretary to look like, neat, white hair trimmed short, a button-up sweater layered over a shell-collared shirt. It was almost easy to believe she was nice.
She wasn’t; at the very least she’d never been nice to me.
“Hi, Mrs. Brokawski. I wanted to see about talking to Mr. Cordero, please.” Kill them with kindness, right?
The rude old bat looked away from her computer, summing me up and finding me lacking. “You need to schedule an appointment.”
Someone was skipping the pleasantries. All right. “If I could just talk to him for five minutes? That’s it. It’s very important,” I stressed and lied to deaf ears, which had turned away to focus again on the computer screen.
“I already explained, you need to schedule an appointment. He has an opening for Monday at eleven,” she stated.
“There’s no way for me to speak to him today?”
The lady rolled her eyes and wasn’t discreet about it. “No.”
Obviously she wasn’t going to work with me. “Thank you anyway,” I said before turning around. I started walking in the direction I’d come from, intending to find the German to let him know he was going to have to be the one to get the rabid badger to let us in. Before I even left her visual range, Kulti was there walking forward, frowning.
“She won’t let me in to see him,” I explained.
He blinked once then grabbed my hand, palm to palm, and walked with me back to the secretary’s desk.
Kulti didn’t bullshit around. “I need to speak to Cordero. Now.”
Her slim wireless frames moved up to see who was speaking. Her entire face changed when she spotted the German. “Mr. Kulti, you should really schedule an appointment—“
“No. I need to see him now,” he cut her off.
The old bat’s eyes swung over to me, and I didn’t miss the wrinkle on her nose. Well, the multiple wrinkles on her nose. “Let me get him for you.”
Exactly fifteen seconds later Mr. Cordero’s ancient guardian was standing at the doorframe, holding the door wide open and waving us forward. “He’ll see you now.”
The general manager of the Pipers was sitting behind his desk as we walked in, Kulti ahead of me, still holding my hand. I knew what it would look like, and I didn’t find it in me to care. Not even a little. The German took the seat furthest away from the door. I took the other one, watching Cordero, who looked completely undisturbed.
“How can I help you?” the man asked with a distasteful expression.
“I’ll take the job if you let her play the next two games,” Kulti went right out and said it.
My head swung around to gape at him. What?
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one surprised by his words. Cordero’s eyes widened. “You will?”
“On two conditions. The first is that you let her start,” he stated evenly.
The oldest man in the room seemed to think about it, almost stupefied. “That’s your compromise?”
“One part of it.”
He didn’t want to take the job. He’d told me so. What in the hell was he doing?
“Rey,” I whispered.
The German turned to give me another look; that look that reminded me I had promised to trust him.
Damn it.
“Yes or no?” he demanded from Cordero.