Death Row

We need to talk

Don't call my name
Don't call my name, Alejandro
I'm not your babe
I'm not your babe, Fernando

Just then, three of the USWNT teammates that Jordan was closest too arrived at the café.
"Hey Jords!" Rose instantly overwhelmed Jordan with her usual bubbly persona. "Are you ok?"
Before Jordan could reply, the midfielder got distracted by a French bulldog walking past.
Mal was whispering to Lindsey before looking at Jordan and frowning, which got her best friend nervous.
"Where did you have to go?" The innocent tone didn't fool Jordan. She knew it was just a polite way of demanding what was going on. Not that Jordan was going to give in though.
"Oh it was just family issues," she nonchalantly brushed off getting Mal even more suspicious.
"Whatever." She suddenly said and Jordan knew she was going to be in shit when the duo were alone. Lindsey and Rose both noticed Mal's shift in attitude and looked to Jordan in concern.
She changed the subject. "We literally have six months til the Olympics," Jordan remembered. Turning to her friends she worried "The rosters gonna be shorter than the World Cup...what if we don't make it?"
Lindsey laughed. "Oh come on Jords we all know we're gonna make it. We're too important to Dawn!"
Jordan briefly chuckled recalling all the times she and Lindsey got into hot water with the trainer for mucking about.
Rose wasn't that confident. "Linds none of us are bad..." she paused "but who are we better than? Competition is unreal at the moment."
The other players nodded. Vlatko certainly didn't have an enviable job when it came to selection.
The avocado toast arrived and Lindsey and Mal both jokingly force fed Jordan it. Everyone was genuinely enjoying themselves.
Suddenly Jordan's phone vibrated. She looked to see the following text:

Mama 🙏😍 :
Chiqa I know you really don't want to but we need to talk.
With your father.