Page 25 of Home Game

“Maybe a hoodie or yoga pants. Stuff she can sleep in. Just do what you can.”

“How did you say you know her?”

“I didn’t.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll be by later and I’ll just get all the dirt then.”

“Thanks.”

Two hours later,Krista showed up, staggering under an impossible load of bags. “I wasn’t sure of the size of your friend, so I bought things in a few sizes. Anything that doesn’t fit, she can just put aside. I kept all the receipts. Just return it to my office.”

“Thanks.”

She peered around. “So, where is she?”

“Sleeping.”

“So this is a good time to pour me a stiff drink and tell me what is going on.”

“Fine,” I said, walking towards the kitchen. “But you can’t bill me for the time you spend drinking my booze.”

“Shush,” she said. “I am cheaper than a therapist and better at it too.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “You take shameless advantage of me.”

“You used to love that about me,” she pouted.

Krista looked like a red-headed, Dita Von Teese. The rumor was that she liked to burlesque on her own time, but I didn’t ask and she never told. Today she was wearing blood red heels that matched her lipstick. Her eyes were made up as dramatic as the 50s style dress that pushed her cleavage up to her chin.

Looking at her, you would never know she was one of the best hockey agents in the business. Beneath those fake eyelashes was a shark who played with the boys and more often than not, came out the winner. She was a pit-bull when it came to negotiating.

“So, what is your friend’s name?”

“Zoey.”

“How did you meet?”

I poured her a glass of scotch that I kept on hand just for her. “In a coffee shop. I don’t really know her, but I gave her my card, and she was in an accident and the hospital called me.”

“So you brought her back here?”

“She has no one.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your heart is too big?”

“Only my mom.”

Krista’s eyes went big as she looked at something beyond my shoulder. I turned around. There stood Zoey. Sleep hadn’t improved her looks. With her hair sticking up, and her one good eye puffy from crying, she looked even worse than before.

“Hey, Zoey.”

She stood there, drowning in her scrubs.

I walked over to her. “Are you okay?”

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