For Hire: Management

Chapter Two

Green pine trees sway and insects start singing their usual wake up call, as I jog my way to the remote tennis court, where I spend my free time on weekends and where I treat myself when something worth celebratory happens. I am not really that kind of anti-social or introvert, I just prefer to spend my spare time all by myself. I'm not trying to sound selfish either.

On the way, irregular thoughts cloud my mind like a blur, like my encounter with the people I'm going to manage: the messy haired guy, the swearing blonde one, the shorter one, and two manly men with gruff-looking beards, making their facial hair appeal more like a powerful asset than a weakness to their physical looks. I hope that I would only bump to Vera in frequent times because I think I might do something unexpectedly cruel to her. Even after she gave me something for a living that would keep me alive for a year. I should've been given a chance to choose for my own right, my own democratic choice.

Sigh, whatever. Managing is like babysitting people right? Maybe I would've only be given less work because the men I'm going to manage seem to be grown-ups.

Right?

The blowing wind shuts down my thoughts, tangling my hair in conflicting and irritating directions. My fingers automatically fix it without any further instinct as I take a quick turn to the right. I made a path here myself before, a shortcut, so that I would be able to go to the court as quickly as possible.

Few people who have sharp eyes and flair of curiosity would only notice the pathway. Well, those people are pretty lucky for trusting their instincts to explore more of what's hidden on the way, for their nagging minds will lead them to a glorious place of delight that they could've ever seen in England.

With my adrenaline rushing through the giddiness of seeing the captivating place once again, I picture the tennis court that made me yearn on learning how to play the sport when I was a younger teen, the restless winds making it hard for you to perspire. And also, the hill where it is peaking, overlooking the hushed beautiful lake meant for splashing and swimming.

Imagining the place rushes the journey to it, and after a minute of wondering and picturing, the destination soars neatly in my eyes as I ascend on top of the hill. Of course, the word 'hill' makes me use the term 'soar' legally.

I sit down first on one of the benches inside the court, with my face in the direction of the blue pools, and savor the rewarding view that makes the hike all deserving in the end. While I was stopping to catch some breaths, something rusty rustled behind me, curiously making me turn to see who or what's making the uneven noise.

Okay, maybe I'm not the only person who knows this wondrous place.

Dropping mindlessly his items to a single bench, like the typical kind of person who boasts and is often caught in a lot of bad temperance, he paces straight to the left court and starts dribbling the green ball in his free hand in an indignant way. My insides almost jump when his eyes fix straight on me, his angry features still present.

"Don't you want to play?" He asks, maybe a bit friendly and perhaps his voice a bit high, his foot tapping impatiently to run again. Narrowing my eyes to observe his sporty figure, the eye-capturing neon green headband to support his bagging hair matching his neon kicks, I shake my head to say no, unconsciously fluttering my eyes a bit longer as I fend off a competitive and boastful challenge.

With my head turning back to the blissful view, I was itching to grab my phone and wait timelessly for this guy to finish his session. Due to there's nothing else I'm supposed to do, I surrender and search inside my sports bag to find my phone.

My hands feel the freezing dew of my bottled water, the rough texture of the average tennis ball and now I'm being tempted to take out my tennis racket and wreck the balls of this arrogant lad.