Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Dear Mr. Alvarado, we’re sorry to hear about the severe outbreak on your penis, balls, and anus. Please call today and we’ll try to move up your next appointment.”
The laughter was louder this time, and Alvarado’s movements were jerky as he snatched the postcard from Wes’s hands.
“I guess I need to go directly to Coach Gizzard about this,” he snapped.
“You should,” I said, grinning. “Coach loves a good prank. If you could reenact the first time you read it for him, I know he’d appreciate the effort.”
I continued getting dressed and as I pulled a clean T-shirt over my head, I found myself being shoved back against my locker.
“Fuck you, Reilly,” Alvarado said, pulling his arm back to take a swing at me.
By the time I realized what was going on, Wes and Drew had already pulled him off me. I tugged my T-shirt down, freeing my hands, and advanced toward Alvarado. I was feeling anything but amused.
“No.” I heard Lars’s voice through the cloud of frustration fogging my brain just as an arm curled around my chest to halt my movements.
Lars had restrained me. I tried to escape his hold, but he was built like a Viking, a wall of solid muscle.
“Let go,” I growled, elbowing him in the chest.
He grunted in response, but his hold didn’t loosen in the slightest.
“Get him the fuck out of here,” Wes told Drew and Boone, pointing at Alvarado.
They dragged a resistant Alvarado to the training room.
“Jesus, he fucking bit me,” Boone griped. “The fuck is your problem?”
“This isn’t over,” Alvarado yelled at me. “We’re going to settle this like men.”
“Yeah?” I scoffed. “There’s only one man here. Who’s going to step up for you?”
“Fuck you, Reilly!”
“Go scratch your genital warts, rookie.”
Coach Gizzard appeared then, and though his expression was calm, I could tell from the tic in his jaw that he was pissed.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded.
“Nothing we can’t handle, Coach,” Wes answered.
Coach just shook his head and looked down at the ground, sighing loudly. “I can’t believe I have to ask this question, but does someone in this locker room really have genital warts?”
Wes glared at me before answering.
“No, Coach. It was just a prank on the rookie and he doesn’t like being pranked.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ve got it under control, Coach,” Wes said. “You worry about the important stuff and I’ll handle this.”
Coach nodded and stalked back to his office.
I elbowed Lars again, trying to get out of his hold. “Will you let go now, fuckface?”
“If you promise not to fight your teammates,” he said flatly.
“He pushed me,” I said. “I didn’t start this.”
“Let him go,” Wes told Lars.
Lars released me and I scowled at him.
“Look,” Wes said to me. “I know he started it, and I know you’re not wrong, but we can’t bring fighting into this locker room.”
I threw my hands up in the air, agitated over this entire conversation. “I didn’t start it. He’s a fucking hothead baby who needs to be knocked off his pedestal.”
Wes put a hand on my shoulder. “I know, man. I’m going to give him a much different talk than I just gave you.”
“I’m not afraid of that little bitch,” I muttered.
A smile played on Wes’s lips. “I wouldn’t expect you to be. Send all the postcards you want, just don’t fight the little fucker, okay?”
I shrugged and gave him a shallow nod.
“Don’t make me call Mistress Sandra,” he said, grinning. “She’ll spank the shit out of you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his reference to the bachelor auction from hell and the woman who’d bid on me. I’d figured she was a nice woman I could have dinner and sex with, but instead she had tried to make me her bitch.
I put my hands up. “Okay, Wes, I won’t start any more shit with him, but if he initiates anything, I’ll finish it.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Wes said. “He needs to save his aggression for out on the ice.”
What Wes didn’t say was that Alvarado’s numbers had been less than stellar since being traded to the Mavericks. That was probably part of the reason he was so wound up. But it was an unwritten rule in hockey that you didn’t openly trash a teammate over his on-ice performance unless he did something egregious.
The spotlight was too much for some players. Those of us who had been at this for a few years knew you had to swallow your pride at times, or your career would be over before you knew it.
I wasn’t rooting for Alvarado to fail, but I was still going to prank him. I’d undergone my own trial by fire when I was new to this team, and it had made me stronger.
That evening, I was playing fetch with Louie while scrolling through social media and news articles on my phone when a text notification popped up on my phone.