Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Plus,” Blanc continues on a cut of his gaze over to me, “scratching him will give his ass a chance to make a better headline than the Bush League one he made yesterday.”
“Right.”
Hennington whips her head over to me.
“You said you wanted me to fix shit. I need time to fix it.”
“Fine.” She sighs and folds her hands firmly in her lap. “But it better be something big and not easy to fucking miss, Eeyore. Ramirez is having a fucking top shelf celebration over this stretch of fuck ups, and I need to kick her in the cunt.”
“Boss,” Blanc mirthfully chastises.
“Metaphorically speaking.” The eye roll we’re given has Coach and I both chuckling. “The league already expressed their preference of me keeping my physical distance from her after I accidentally threw my water bottle at the bug that was on her red bottom shoes.”
“There was no bug,” Coach quietly points out.
“You can’t prove that,” Hot Rocket sassily smirks prior to meeting my stare. “Now, have I made myself fucking understood, Eeyore?”
“Da.” An idea on how to do just that glides to the front of my brain prompting me to say, “Mind if I borrow a few things from the club to make it happen?”
Intrigue leads to Hennington slightly angling her body forward. “I’m listening…”
Chapter 25
Joey
Sleepily lifting my eyelids swiftly transitions into popping them wide open courtesy of my best friend forebodingly positioned nose to nose beside me.
This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up like this.
Hell, this isn’t even the first time she’s woken me up like this.
But it is the first time she’s traveled half-way across the country to do it.
“Uh…personal space?”
“That’s a negative, Supernanny,” Berks playfully denies and tucks her hands tighter under her face. “I discovered you. I get to invade your space.”
“Not loving the ancient conqueror vibe.”
The two of us share a round of giggles as Mario Lopez’s voice says something snarky in the background.
“Well, I’m not loving that I can identify Holiday in Handcuffs without setting eyes on the screen.”
“It’s a cute movie!”
“It’s a crappy Christmas movie and you know it!” She immediately bites back. “It’s like if Misery and Love Actually had an affair child that was born on December twenty fourth.”
More laughter freely leaves me. “Did you really fly all the way down here just to break into my hotel room and tell me that?”
“First off, I didn’t break in. I used my unmatched rizz to get in here-”
“Worrisome.”
“And second, thank you for giving me the status update I needed.”
“What?”
Sadness slinks into her stare at the same time she states, “You’re having an episode.”
Her words crinkle my forehead. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes,” she sits up straight in bed, Winnie the Pooh scrub covered frame taking a cross-legged position, “you are. That’s why you asked if I flew down here instead of just walked over a couple blocks from my apartment.” Her fingers retrieve the cellphone in her pocket. “I moved to the city six weeks ago.”
“No-huh!” It’s my turn to throw myself upward. “You would never leave A2!”
“I would and I did and I can honestly say I regret nothing.” The shrug she presents is innocent. “I fucking love my new job, I love living this close to my bestie, and I love the free hockey tickets.”
“Free hockey tickets?” There’s no stopping my head from tilting in question. “The hospital gives you free hockey tickets?”
“While they probably should considering how many times the main wing sees and treats players, no. You and your boyfriend are my suppliers.”
“Marc?!” Bewilderment cruelly bitch slaps me across the face. “Marc gets you hockey tickets?!”
“Ahhh…” Berks knowingly nods to herself prior to tapping on her screen. “And that tells me how far back I need to go.”
“Far back? What do you mean far back?”
She continues to wordlessly type.
“Berks, I’m not having an episode.”
Her face momentarily shoots upward to present me with a sarcastic stare.
“Okay, yeah, I’m having an episode because I’m pouting in a hotel room, drinking my weight in hot chocolate while wearing silky winter jammies in the middle of October, but this is a normal breakup type of episode. Not the other kind.” The frantic shaking of my head has my curls wildly whipping around. “I haven’t had one of the other kind in a long, long time.”
“That was true until the Marc thing.”
“I already told you about Marc?!” I jab an accusatory finger in her direction. “See! That’s really why you’re in town! You didn’t take a job. You’re just trying to fuck with me, so I feel better.”
“While I can see how that would sound like me…” she latches her gaze onto mine, “no, babe. I know about the Marc, Kenji incident because it happened months ago, and I knew you would be here because this is where you always come between jobs except you’re not actually in between jobs, you’re having an episode triggered by your current boyfriend who just so happens to be a Russian-American hockey God – which I will deny ever calling him – for the Dalvegan Dragons. And you,” she flips the device around to show me a picture, “are not only his daughter’s nanny but one of the most beloved hockey girlfriends on the whole scene.”