“Lettie ...”
“I’ve got you, sis. I promise. Just breathe.”
“Okay.”
“I love you. And, Jo? Fuck David Cooper.”
That gets a broken laugh out of her. “Yeah. Fuck him.”
I hang up, and I’m already moving. Phone in one hand, laptop open with the other. I call HR. I call the head of the medical department. I email anyone who has the power to speed this up, and explain the situation. I’m professional but firm and make it very clear that Joelle St. Pierre is the physio this team hired, and she needs to be in New York as soon as possible. I’m not asking. I’m telling. By the end of the day, I’ve got confirmation that they can expedite Jo’s work visa through the organization’s immigration lawyers. She’ll need to fly out withinthe week, but she’ll have a job and a visa waiting for her when she lands.
Later that night, I call Jo back. I’ve spent the afternoon on the phone with HR, legal, and basically everyone I could get hold of.
“Okay. I talked to HR. And legal. And basically everyone.” I’m breathless. “We can expedite your visa through the US Embassy in London.”
“Really?”
“Yes. The Mavericks have done this before for international players. There’s a process. It’s fast-tracked for professional athletes and essential staff.”
“How fast?”
“They’ve booked you an appointment for tomorrow. You’ll go in and submit your paperwork. They’ll interview you. And if everything checks out, they’ll stamp your passport on the spot.”
“On the spot?”
“Yes. Then you can fly to New York this weekend. The boys will pay for it.”
“I can buy my own ticket.”
“They knew you’d say that. But they want to do this for you. If you fly this weekend, the boys aren’t playing. So, they can help move you in and everything.”
“That’s so soon.” I can hear the panic in her voice.
“I know. But your UK visa expires in a week. We need to move fast.” I pause. “Can you do it?”
There’s silence on the line before she replies. “Yeah. I can do it.”
“Good. I’ll email you all the details. The embassy appointment. Flight information. Everything.”
“Thank you, Lettie.”
“Of course. We take care of each other.” My voice softens. “I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too.”
We’re all at JFK.Me, Pierre, Felix, Harper, and Issy. Pierre had a sign made that says
WELCOME HOME JO
because my brothers don’t do anything small. We’re standing at arrivals waiting, and I’m bouncing on my feet because my sister is about to walk through those doors and be in the same city as me for the first time in five years. She comes through customs, drops her bags, and runs.
I catch her first. “You’re here,” I say.
“I’m here.” She cries.
Pierre hugs her next. Then Felix. “Welcome to New York, sis.”
“Glad to be here,” she tells him.