Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
I’m walking to the changing room when I see Nico in the hall. He looks at me and motions with his head to the side. “I’ll see you guys in there,” I tell Ralph and Miller as they walk into the changing room.
“Hey,” I say. He looks around and sees a closed door. He knocks on the door and then sticks his head in. He walks in and then calls me in.
I close the door behind me and look at him. “How are you doing?” he asks, and I shrug. “I need to give you a heads-up,” he says as he puts his hands in his pockets. “Murielle has been asked to step down from the foundation.”
“Oh, shit,” I say, putting my hand on my neck.
“Did she not tell you?” he asks, and I look down.
“I spoke with her this morning,” I tell him. “I thought maybe she wanted to know how Jaxon was. She didn’t.” I shake my head. “So I told her I would speak with my lawyer. We have a meeting tomorrow afternoon with the mediator.”
“What do I do if she tries to show up tonight?” he asks, and I look at him.
“Whatever you think you need to do, you do it. It’s not my problem anymore,” I say, and he looks at me.
“I have to go. I have a meeting with Matthew Grant in ten minutes.” He walks to the door.
“Is there a reason you’re meeting with Matthew Grant?” I ask him of the General Manager for the New York Stingers.
“You know me,” he says, opening the door. “Just being respectful.” He smirks, and I know Nico enough to know he doesn’t need to be respectful, so he must want something. I shake my head and walk into the room just in time to see Evan Richards walk out with Justin Stone, both of them laughing.
“Hey,” Evan says, stopping and extending his hand to me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say to him. Say what you want about the other team, but sometimes there are just some genuine people out there. “Did you come in here to ruffle his feathers?” I motion with my chin toward Ralph, who just glares at him.
“It’s all fun and games,” Ralph says. “You aren’t allowed to talk to Ari when we get on the ice,” he says of his daughter.
“You can’t tell me that I can’t talk to my niece!” he shouts back and then walks away with Justin, who just slaps my arm.
“We really have to fucking win tonight,” he says to me, and I nod. He isn’t the only one who wants to win tonight. I just want to show the press that this isn’t getting to me. That this shit I’m going through doesn’t matter.
The first period is rough, and New York gets ahead by two. We come into the locker room, and the whole room is pissed. It was just what we needed because at the drop of the puck in the second period, Ralph gets set up right in front, and he tips it in. He kicks up his foot and celebrates right next to Evan, who glares at him. Four minutes later, I’m taking the puck down the ice and skating into the neutral zone, looking around. I get over the blue line and wait for everyone to set up their position. I pass it to my defensive partner, Denis, and he passes it to Miller on the outside of the net, but then Ralph is blocked in the center, so he sends it back to Denis, and he passes it to me, and I wind my stick up, slapping it right back to the goalie, tying the game at two.
The third period is a mess with both teams trying to get the winning goal, and it happens with ten seconds to go. Evan goes to pass it to Justin, who skates just a bit too much ahead of it, and Miller intercepts it. He skates as fast as he can and slips it through the goalie’s five-hole.
We go back to the locker room, and Nico is there slapping us on the back when we enter. Coach comes in and doesn’t chew our asses, and then he looks at me. “Reporters are itching.”
“Tell them to fuck off,” Denis says. “No one needs to know your business.”
“It’s all good,” I say, and the doors open, and the reports come in. I stand as ten of them surround me.
“Guys, just so we are clear,” I say, “I’m not answering any personal questions.” I look at all of them. “You want to talk about the game, fine, but it stops there.” I see a couple of them roll their eyes, and I laugh. “Since when did I talk about my personal life before now?”
The reporters only ask me questions about the game, and one tries to slip in if there is anyone in the stands tonight who I would see later. I look straight at him and say, “Thanks for the questions, boys,” then walk away and go into the shower area where I know they can’t follow me. I shower and leave in record time, pulling up to Evelyn’s house.