Page 25 of In a Pickle
“So of course the art event is super fulfilling, but in its own way, the PHCC event is my favorite time of the year. I actually love running an event, I think because I love planning. I love details. And now that I’ve combined event planning with pickleball? It’s kind of a perfect combination for me.”
“That’s awesome. You said you like your work and you don’t. What don’t you like about it?”
He sighed, and she was quick to add, “You don’t have to tell me. We can talk about something else.”
“No, no,” he shook his head. “I want to tell you. I just don’t want to bring down the mood.”
“You forget our conversation over PB&J. You’re talking to the queen of bringing down the mood.”
“That conversation didn’t bring down the mood at all. I only felt grateful that you trusted me enough to open up to me. I want to open up to you too.”
She continued her lazy strokes down his chest, and he traced the outline of her arm with two fingers. Liana had never felt so content. She stayed silent, letting him gather his thoughts.
Finally, he said, “Saying I don’t like the job sounds horrible, because I know that so many people would kill to have their parents literally drop a job in their lap. I mean — it’s not a full-time job, and most of the work is during the spring and then November and December — but still, my parents are paying me, and I didn’t have to interview or do a thing to earn the position.
“You probably know, or have guessed by now, that my family is quite well off. It started with my grandpa, my dad’s dad. He came over from Argentina in his early 20s and saw a hugeopportunity to build up downtown Miami. He made really good investments. If you think about the Miami Vice era, you think about those big downtown buildings in the skyline, and a few buildings on Miami Beach too — my grandpa owned a lot of those buildings. My dad grew up watching my grandpa, and then my dad became an architect and developer. He made, somehow, even better business decisions. He was one of the biggest investors in the Wynwood revitalization in the 90s, helping to make Miami one of the best art destinations in the country.
“And my mom’s family is an old-money institution in its own right. She grew up in New Jersey but came to Miami after college to work on cruise ships and then never left. She spent her career working for one of the big cruise lines — mostly on the corporate side — but quit when I was young to be home with me. Around the time she started staying home, her parents retired here from New Jersey to be with my mom and me, and they brought their money with them.
“Charity has always been a big part of our family’s DNA, and I think my mom got a little bored being home once I was in high school, so my mom and dad together decided to use parts of their trust funds to start a nonprofit. My mom is the president of the organization.” He sighed. “But my dad has made it known thatI’mcurrently the organization’s biggest charity project.”
“You mean, he’s making you feel bad about getting paid for your hard work?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, but it’s not really about the organization. He thinks my life as a whole is a mess.” He waved his hand. “I mean, my lack of a life, per my dad. By my age, he already had his master’s degree and was leading major projects, a fact that he does not cease to remind me of. It’s almost worse working with my family than not working, because they canmake it known every day that I’m beholden to them, and without them, I’d just be an unemployed burnout with a Stanford degree that they helped pay for.”
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry, James. You’re not a burnout.”
“You’re the first person in years to look at me like I’m not,” he said, and her heart broke.
Liana looked into James’ eyes, willing him to believe her words. “First of all, nonprofit work is incredible work. Especially considering the causes you support. Second of all, you could sit at home doing nothing all day and still be the kindest and most loyal person I’ve ever met.”
James suddenly tilted Liana’s chin and kissed her, more forcefully this time than he’d done in the car. When he finally pulled back, one corner of his mouth tipped up. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist kissing you. Not when you say such sweet things to me.”
“Everything I said is true,” she insisted.
“I know you think so,” he said, almost sadly. “But you don’t know the full story about me yet.”
“You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” she said. “But unless you murdered a kid or something, I highly doubt anything you say is going to move the needle on my opinion of you.”
“God, you’re incredible,” he said, pulling her closer and kissing her temple.
“Tell me about pickleball,” she said, changing the subject. “You said you play professionally?”
He snorted. “Yeah, I mean, if by ‘professional’ you mean I barely scrape by to cover costs of attending the tournaments.Sometimes I don’t even cover the costs. I’m decent at it but not amazing. The most you can usually win is five K per tournament, and that’s if you come in first, which I’ve never done. Take out the money you have to spend traveling to tournaments and on hotels, and you can see why I usually only go to lower-cost events within driving distance.”
“You’re still a professional athlete. That’s something hardly anyone can say.”
“Again, ‘professional’ in the loosest sense of the word. Believe it or not, I have won one first-place trophy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. But… not for actually winning at pickleball. Drum roll… it was for best dressed.”
“Best dressed? Like, a high school yearbook superlative?”
“Exactly like that. Pickleball.com gives out a bunch of awards every year. Most of them are for normal things, like best player, biggest breakout star, and most improved. Then there are some awards unrelated to pickleball but still indicative of some kind of talent, like best content creator. Then… there are joke awards, like biggest personality and best dressed. That’s what I won.”
“What does one wear to become best dressed in pickleball?”