Aleksandar had barely survived the traumatic trial known as "The Great Club Photoshoot," and now, he was finally walking alongside Vinnie again, fresh air hitting his face like freedom after a prison sentence.
Just as he stretched his arms with relief, Vinnie casually pulled out his phone.
Tap tap tap.
"Calling the Uber," Vinnie said, not even looking up.
"Huh?" Aleksandar blinked. "Wait, Uber? Where are we going? I thought we were just gonna meet the assistant coach, like... in an office or something?"
Vinnie looked at him with a smug half smile, as if he'd been waiting for that exact question.
"Oh, didn't I mention?" he said way too casually. "Assistant coach decided to invite the rotation players to dinner. Something about celebrating the start of the new season and him coming back from overseas scouting."
Aleksandar stopped walking.
"Dinner?" he repeated, eyes widening. "Like… team dinner?"
"Yup. Hao's gonna be there. Captain Diego. Two of the team's veterans. And me, obviously," Vinnie said, ticking them off on his fingers.
He turned back, hands behind his head like this was no big deal. "So yeah, no pressure or anything."
Aleksandar stared at him, frozen like a deer caught in a locker room spotlight.
"…Am I even invited to this thing!?"
Vinnie gave a nonchalant shrug. "Well, officially… no one explicitly said your name."
Aleksandar's jaw dropped. "Then why are we heading there!?"
Vinnie shot him a sly grin. "Relax. We'll come up with something. Just walk in with confidence and act like you belong. Worst case scenario, you fake a bathroom emergency and jump out the window."
Aleksandar's face turned pale. "That's the worst case scenario!?"
"Yup," Vinnie said, now grinning ear to ear. "But hey if you make a good impression, they'll forget you weren't on the guest list to begin with. Plus, you're technically part of the roster now. Might as well start eating like one."
Aleksandar groaned. "I knew I should've just stayed with the photographer…"
As the Uber pulled up, Vinnie opened the door and motioned dramatically. "After you, Mr. Possibly Invited."
"I swear if I get kicked out of this dinner, I'm haunting you," Aleksandar muttered as he climbed in.
"Spoken like a true teammate," Vinnie said, slamming the door with a laugh.
The soft hum of the city surrounded them as the Uber glided through the streets, weaving past the glowing lights and quiet hum of early evening Buenos Aires. Aleksandar sat by the window, watching the buildings blur by in silence. Beside him, Vinnie sat relaxed, arms crossed, though his eyes remained fixed ahead with a thoughtful, unreadable expression.
After a while, Vinnie finally broke the silence.
"Small fry," he said quietly, his voice calm but direct, "do you think your friend has a real shot at getting the contract?"
The question lingered in the air, heavy despite how simply it was delivered.
Aleksandar turned toward him, his expression steady. "Yeah," he said with conviction. "We trained together all summer, followed your program to the letter. Played one on ones almost every day. I'd be surprised if he didn't make the cut."
There was a pause.
Vinnie didn't look at him. He just gave a small nod, almost imperceptible. "Good," he said simply.
But his eyes had narrowed slightly.
Vinnie's instincts honed from years of working with players, watching careers rise and fall whispered a faint concern. Something about Nikola didn't sit right. It wasn't that the kid lacked effort. But effort alone never guaranteed a spot. He felt it in his gut: something unpredictable was waiting in tomorrow's tryouts.
Still, he said nothing more.
The last thing Aleksandar needed now was pressure especially not on behalf of someone he clearly cared about. There would be enough on the line when the whistle blew tomorrow morning.
The car continued quietly for several more minutes.
Finally, the Uber pulled up in front of a warm, dimly lit restaurant tucked between the trees and low rise buildings.
Vinnie stepped out first, adjusting the collar of his jacket before glancing back at Aleksandar.
"Let's go," he said. "Time to meet the rest of the team."
The soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses filled the cozy restaurant, dimly lit with warm overhead lights and the occasional flicker of candlelight on the tables. The scent of grilled meats and spice hung in the air.
As soon as Vinnie and Aleksandar stepped inside, Vinnie scanned the room and with a quick lift of his hand, he spotted their group near the back. A large round table, tucked in a quiet corner, where Hao waved in response.
"This way," Vinnie said, guiding Aleksandar through the maze of tables.
As they approached, Aleksandar could feel his stomach twist not from nerves exactly, but from the weight of stepping deeper into this unfamiliar world.
Around the table sat Hao and Diego, relaxed but engaged in conversation. And across from them were two other men one dressed in a sharp suit, posture straight and eyes calm; the other leaned back in his chair, casual in a late night hoodie and joggers, sipping slowly from a tall glass.
Vinnie greeted them all, then turned to the man in the suit, his tone slightly more formal. "Good evening, Mr. Kumstrim. I brought Aleksandar with me. He's the new recruit I told you about. Thought it'd be good for him to meet the core tonight, since you'll be working closely soon."
The man named Kumstrim turned slowly, his gaze landing on Aleksandar with an air of quiet intensity. Despite his stillness, there was an unmistakable sharpness behind his calm eyes a man used to reading players, games, and people like open books.
"Welcome, Aleksandar," Kumstrim said in a smooth, low voice. "Please, take a seat. Ezquiel couldn't make it tonight texted me earlier that he caught a cold so there's room for one more at the table."
There was a pause. He offered a nod that carried both approval and expectation.
"First dinners like this," Kumstrim continued, folding his hands in front of him, "aren't about food they're about listening. You'll learn more in silence tonight than in weeks of practice. Pay attention."
Aleksandar blinked, caught slightly off guard by the depth in the man's tone, but quickly bowed his head respectfully.
"Understood. It's an honor."
He greeted the rest of the table with a polite smile, and the two of them took their seats.
As plates began to arrive and conversation flowed again, Aleksandar found himself seated among players who carried the weight of past seasons, long bus rides, injuries, victories, and losses.