Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Oh, come on,” I say. “This has to be a joke, right?”
As Vanessa reads, a police officer who looks a bit like a librarian approaches. She has thick prescription glasses that make her eyes seem a few sizes larger than they probably are. She slows her pace, eyes narrowing as she seems to wait and listen to what Vanessa is saying.
Vanessa continues. “Summers cooperated with the responding officers but became belligerent when he wasn’t ‘allowed to finish the third period because he was on the verge of a hat trick.’ Property damage includes one slightly worse-for-wear mop head. Several bar stools bearing the marks of intense one-on-one matchups. A bowl of peanuts, now deemed unfit for consumption. During the arrest, Mr. Summers’ eyes sparkled with unspoken intensity and the promise of passion.”
The police officer turns slowly and practically tip-toes out of the room with bright red cheeks. I suspect I just witnessed the author of my police report.
I fold my arms, grinning. “Come on, Vanessa. You’ve got to admit it’s a little funny.” Even if I’m trying to find the humor in this, I can’t help feeling the twinge of disappointment in myself. I know I’m acting self-destructive. Lately, it feels like all the shit that matters to me is slipping away. My team. Hockey. And, of course, the one thing I haven’t whispered a word of to anyone: Caroline. Finding out some other guy knocked her up hit me in a way I still haven’t been able to shake off. Betrayal, confusion, anger. I felt it all. I still do. If I remember correctly, thoughts of Caroline were what drove me to the bar in the first place.
She scowls at me. “Would it be funny if this wasn’t happening right before contract negotiations? No, it probably still wouldn’t be. But considering the Vandals are about to decide whether they are extending your old ass for one last contract, I’d say this falls firmly into ‘not funny’ territory, Jake.”
I nod slowly. “Fair points.”
She chews the side of her lip, then lets out a breath. “Listen. I know it’s hard watching the team change. Nolan retired last year. Jesse is talking about walking away this season. And you mentioned Carter, Maddox, and Liam have all started talking about hanging up their skates, too. Everybody is getting older.”
“And?” I ask, feeling a little testy, even though it’s not as if she’s wrong.
“I’m wondering if your behavior tonight has anything to do with feeling like the team is slipping away from you. Or worrying that hockey could be coming to an end in your life.”
“Damn,” the bald guy says from behind me. “That stings, man. I’ll be your friend if you need one.”
“Uh, thanks,” I say, returning my attention to Vanessa. “I have more than hockey and the team in my life. You realize that, right?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Such as?”
I gesture in a circle, feeling annoyed that she’s asking. “I have things. Plenty of things. I’ve got my apartment.”
“I’ve seen it. The one you still have decorated like you’re some Spartan warrior? No curtains. No rugs. A mattress on the floor. An expired bottle of ketchup in the fridge?”
“Wait, my ketchup is expired?”
“You live like a poor college bachelor, Jake,” Vanessa says. “I worry about you.”
“You’re exaggerating,” I say, shooting a slightly embarrassed look over my shoulder. I don’t want my new prison buddies to think I’m some kind of loser, after all. But seriously, when did my ketchup expire? I didn’t even know ketchup could expire. “I’ve got those curtains. The ones in the bathroom. And what’s even the point of a bed frame? The mattress works perfectly well on the ground. I’m supposed to elevate it like I’m some kind of goddamn king? Is that it?”
“Normal people have bed frames. And the curtain in your bathroom is a shower curtain. Doesn’t count.”
I make an annoyed sound. “What’s your point?”
“You’ve poured your life into hockey and your team. Now, it feels like that might all be ending, and I’m worried you don’t know how to handle it. So you’re…” she points to my shirtless and temporarily imprisoned state. “Doing whatever this is.”
“I’m fine. And hockey isn’t coming to an end. I’m going to get that next contract. Just watch.”
She works her lips to the side. “About that… I just spoke with the Vandal’s front office staff. It sounds like they are worried about your off-ice conduct. I don’t know if that means a pay cut or if it means no contract at all. But I do know this isn’t helping. It would massively benefit you to clean your shit up, Jake. Find some way to look like you’ve got your act together. Prove to the team they can trust you going forward. If you don’t, there may not be another contract. Not from the Vandals, at least.”