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)
If I could Hulk out, I would’ve gone big green monster and crushed my phone right there and then. I’d told both of my parents several times that I couldn’t commit yet, but that didn’t stop my father from pressuring me about it. Part of me wanted to ignore him, but a bigger part wanted to take out my bad mood on him.
NASH: My team is in the playoffs. I don’t know if I’ll have a game that day, so if you need a yes or a no right now, it’s a no.
DAD: Obviously we don’t expect you to miss a playoff game for it. But if you don’t have a game that day, will you be there?
“Fucking fucker,” I muttered at my phone.
“Sariah?” Lars asked from beside me.
I glared at him. “You really think I’d call her that?”
“The chick from sales?” Drew asked me. “Why are you texting her?”
“It’s not her.” I exhaled hard, feeling frustrated. “The next one of you fuckers who talks to me is getting punched in the face.”
I texted my dad back.
NASH: Hey, thanks for your interest in seeing your son’s playoff games. I don’t know if I can make it to the party to celebrate the marriage you aren’t faithful to. I’ll let you know.
DAD: Nash, I would love to see your playoff games. If you can arrange for tickets, I’ll be there.
NASH: With mom, or with your girlfriend? Or should I get three tickets so you can bring both of them?
DAD: Don’t be a smartass. Things are more complicated than you realize.
NASH: It’s not complicated to tell Mom you’ve been cheating on her for two years. She deserves to know.
DAD: I plan to tell her, when the time is right.
Coach Gizzard opened the door to his office and entered the locker room. The room fell silent and I set my phone down on the bench.
“Nothing’s broken,” he said. “We’re going to see how he does over the next week or so with ice and rest, and as of now, we’re hopeful he’ll be ready for game one.”
There was a collective sigh of relief.
Coach looked around the room, stopping on each one of our faces and making eye contact. “There better not be a single word of this spoken outside of this locker room. If I hear of anyone’s wife or girlfriend, or even your dear old granny, getting wind of what’s going on with Wes, I will put my entire foot up the ass of whoever did it. Clear?”
Everyone answered in agreement, and he went back into his office. If I was Coach, I’d have to pop a Xanax with a shot of whiskey on the daily. There was too much on the line right now for Wes to be climbing a fucking ladder, and he knew it.
“What a stupid shit,” Alvarado said to someone a few lockers down from mine. “And he’s our captain.”
I was full of pent-up anger and frustration—about Wes, about my douchebag father, and about how I was going to get out of the mess I’d gotten myself into with Sariah. Alvarado’s dumbass comment caught my attention though, and I channeled all my anger in his direction.
“Say that again, you little cocksucker.” I jumped up from the bench and shoved him against his locker.
Alvarado’s eyes narrowed with fury as he tried to push back. I was too fired up, though, and his back slammed into his locker with the force of my next shove, causing him to lose his footing.
“He’s not worth getting in trouble over,” Lars said from behind me. I felt his hand on my shoulder, his grip firm, and I knew he’d haul me away if I pushed things further.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Alvarado yelled, pushing to his feet.
Boone and Drew crowded around us, ready to intervene if necessary.
“You don’t say shit about Wes,” I yelled to Alvarado. “He’s ten times the player and man you’ll ever be. You just got here five minutes ago. Who the fuck do you think you are calling your captain a stupid shit?”
Drew and Boone turned their heads toward Alvarado in an instant, both of them scowling.
“You said that?” Drew demanded.
“I didn’t mean—”
Drew punched him right in the gut, and Alvarado doubled over in pain. Throwing his hands in the air, Drew stalked away.
“Do whatever you want to him, Nash,” he said dismissively.
Alvarado took a couple seconds to catch his breath, and I tried to shake off Lars’s grip, but he held firm.
“It won’t work,” he said.
“Fuckin’ punk,” I said to Alvarado. “No wonder your last team dumped your ass on us.”
That got to him. Boone had already turned to go back to his locker and Alvarado took a step toward me.
“If you come closer, I let go of him,” Lars said. “You will not like that, Eric.”
Alvarado ignored Lars’s warning and kept advancing. True to his word, Lars released his hold on me. I ducked the punch Alvarado tried to land and threw a left uppercut at his gut. A right hook to his jaw followed immediately.