Page 82 of Him
Oh shit. Dad?
Dread floods my stomach at the same time Killfeather Senior registers my presence. His head turns sharply, those dark eyes landing on me. Then on Wes.
As his lips curl in an angry sneer, only one thought runs through my head.
Fuck.
29
Wes
Damn it. I knew that fucker at the gas station had looked familiar. I hold my breath as my gaze locks with the man at the curb. But Mr. Killfucker doesn’t make me hold it for long.
“No fucking way,” he spits. “No fucking way. Where is Pat?”
“Right here,” says a calm voice. Pat appears in the open doorway, a frown playing on his lips. “Is there a problem?”
“You’re damn right there is. This is what’s costing me thousands? I’m paying a couple of perverts to spend hours each day with my kid? That is fucking bullshit.”
Heads are turning faster than on spectators at Wimbledon. And as I watch, Pat’s face pales. His eyes bounce onto me for a fraction of a second, and my heart sinks.
I’m going to be a liability here. A fucking crater for Pat and his business.
Killfucker is also noticing all the other parental attention he’s garnered. That’s when he goes in for the kill. “I will not keep quiet about this.”
Cue his son’s involvement. “Dad!” the kid shouts. “What the hell are you saying?”
Pat’s jaw hardens until it resembles a granite block. “You’ll need to follow me, sir. If you’re going to slander my NHL-bound coaching staff, you can do it in the privacy of my office.” He turns around and disappears into the building.
I wait until Killfucker passes me. On his way up the steps he gives me an evil glare. Then I follow him inside. Right behind me is Jamie, his eyes downcast.
“I’m going to hear what he has to say,” I whisper. “But you don’t have to come.”
Jamie gives me an exasperated glance and follows me anyway.
Fuck me sideways. I’ve just fucked up Jamie’s final summer at Elites. This job he loves so much? Torpedoed by yours truly. He’s going to rue the day he ever met me.
A minute later, the four of us gather in Pat’s tiny office, and I flick the door shut.
Killfucker obviously knows not to hesitate before taking a shot. He lets it fly before Pat can speak first. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t know about these two. How the fuck could you hire them to work with impressionable teenagers?”
Pat takes a deep breath, but his face is red. “I have no idea what’s set you off. Does someone want to fill me in?”
Jamie opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand. I can feel myself shaking with anger, but my voice sounds reasonably steady. “Let’s let Mr. Killfeather tell Coach Pat exactly what he saw.” I turn to Killfucker. “And don’t hold back, man. Tell him every detail.”
This parry works, because Killfucker starts to look uncomfortable. I’ve just managed to use his own homophobia against him. He can’t even get the words out, he’s so disgusted. “They…” He clears his throat and points at me. “He kissed him.”
And now I have to give Pat credit. There’s a flash of surprise on his face, but he shuts it down only a nanosecond later.
I jump in again before Pat has a chance. “That’s not a good enough description, man. What else did you see? I’m waiting to hear the perversion.”
Killfucker shakes his head. “That was plenty, trust me.”
“Really?” I snarl. “Where did I kiss Coach Canning?”
He’s clearly finding my offensive play exasperating, so I know I’m on the right track. “At the gas station!”
“On what part of his body, dude?” Then I almost snicker, because now there’s a throbbing vein in the center of Killfucker’s forehead.
