Page 74 of No Pucks

He’d been in a mood all day, but I hadn’t had time to ask him about it, so I figured I would when I got to his apartment later.

“Sure. What’s up?” I glance around, not sure why he’s singling me out mid pulling a sock off.

“In my office.”

My brow pops. “Can I finish taking my socks off?” I hold one up.

His expression remains flat, ignoring my humor. “Get that out of my face and get your ass up.”

“Yes, sir,” I say in my best assy voice.

He snarls and turns his back, stomping back to his office.

Half the team is looking at me while I yank off my other sock and toss them both into my cubby. And he claims he’s trying to avoid singling me out.

“What did I do to piss him off?” I ask, getting to my feet. “Did I fuck up practice that bad?” I laugh, because what the fuck else can I do?

The guys play into my joking, cat calling and giving me shit about my playing.

I hold up my middle finger. “He’s probably just hangry.”

I close Anthony’s office door behind me and then sit on the edge of his desk. “If you’re trying to be subtle about us, that’s not the way.”

“I’ve had three calls in the last fifteen minutes, after two this morning, telling me to hire your father. What the fuck is this?”

I choke and nearly fall off his desk coughing. “From who?”

“Former teammates. Board members. The university president. They all think he’d be an ‘asset’ to the team.”

“Is he trying to get your job?”

The phone on Anthony’s desk rings again, and he hisses before picking it up. “Yes? Yes…I spoke to Gary about that today. I’m well aware of the feelings on the subject…. Yes, but you see, I don’t have any positions open on the coaching staff…. I’m not sure it’s in the University’s budget to add a position… Yes, I did speak to the president, but he didn’t mention—” Anthony’s head drops back to look at the ceiling. “Right. I will speak to the president about it.” He hangs up and sighs. “This fucking phone.”

I take it off the hook for him. “Problem solved. Now it will just give a busy signal.”

“How do you even know how to do that? Your generation doesn’t have land lines.”

“I have the internet.” I blow out my cheeks. What could Dad’s angle be here? “I don’t know why he’d want to work under you.”

“Because he wants to make my life hell while also making you ‘better’ and somehow get back at your mother by coachingyou because he knows he’s going to lose with Evander?” Anthony sinks into his desk chair, defeated.

“That makes sense. But it’s not like you’re going to do it.” It’s a silly notion my father can’t possibly hope to win.

“Do you think they are going to give me a choice?”

“It’s still absurd. I’ll talk to my grandfather. Okay?”

“He’s still going to show up at all the games.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right, but there is nothing I can do about that. I’ve endured it this long. I’ll be fine.”

Anthony scowls. “Let me make you better,” he says after a moment.

“I hate to remind you, but that already is your job,” I deadpan.

“No, I mean private coaching.”

“In what time? Because I’m not taking time away from sex and replacing it with more hockey.” I cross my arms.

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