Page 103 of Arrogant Puck

By the time I get to the arena, I’m floating. The pills have taken the bite out of my anger, leaving me feeling detached and untouchable. Perfect for whatever bullshit conversation Coach wants to have.

I knock on his office door and walk in without waiting for permission. Coach Pascal is there, along with the athletic director and some woman I don’t recognize—probably from HR or legal.

“Sit down, Slater,” Coach says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

I drop into it, sprawling back with the kind of casual arrogance that I know pisses people off. “What’s this about?”

“I think you know,” the athletic director says. “We need to discuss what happened in the equipment room yesterday.”

I shrug. “What about it?”

“You were caught in a compromising position with a staff member,” the HR woman says, consulting her notes. “And when confronted, you allegedly threatened the supervising physical therapist.”

“Allegedly?” I laugh. “There’s no allegedly about it. I told her to mind her own business.”

Coach leans forward, his expression serious. “Slater, threatening staff members is completely unacceptable. This could have serious consequences for both you and the program.”

“She took it too seriously,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. “She needs to relax. It’s not like I actually threatened her. Jesus Christ, guys.”

“You told her to forget what she saw or there would be legal consequences,” the HR woman reads from her notes. “That constitutes intimidation at minimum.”

“Whatever.” The pills are making everything feel distant, unimportant. “Is that all?”

“No.” Coach’s voice is flat. “The staff member involved—Sage Monroe—submitted her resignation yesterday afternoon.”

The words hit me hard, cutting through the haze. “She resigned?”

“Effective immediately,” the athletic director confirms. “We want to make it clear that this kind of behavior won’t be tolerated. You’re on notice—one more incident like this and you’ll be suspended from the team.”

But I’m barely listening. She quit. She actually fucking quit, didn’t get fired. Jesus Christ.

“We’re serious about this, Slater,” Coach continues. “Your talent, money, or past doesn’t make you untouchable. Clean up your act or face the consequences.”

I nod absently, mumbling something about understanding and it not happening again. But all I can think about is Sage walking out of her job… by choice.

The drive home is a blur. By the time I pull into my driveway, the pills are starting to wear off, leaving me raw and agitated. I need a drink. Need several drinks.

I start with whiskey, then switch to beer when the bottle runs empty. The alcohol mixes with the lingering opiates in mysystem, creating a pleasant numbness that makes everything feel manageable.

Hours pass. I lose track of time, floating between the couch and the kitchen, refilling my glass whenever it empties. The sun sets. The house grows dark around me.

That’s when I hear her car in the driveway.

By the time she walks through the front door, I’m on the edge of coming down from the high, which makes everything feel sharper, more intense. I’ve been waiting for her for hours, stewing in my anger and guilt and this desperate need to explain or apologize or make her understand something I can’t even articulate.

“Where the fuck have you been?” The words come out rough, slurred slightly from the alcohol.

She doesn’t answer, just walks past me to the kitchen like I’m not even here. Like my question isn’t worth acknowledging.

I stand, swaying slightly, and follow her. “Where the hell have you been, Sage? I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You don’t need to wait for me.” Her voice is flat, emotionless as she grabs a water bottle from the fridge.

“You quit?” The accusation comes out sharp.

She whirls around, finally showing some emotion. “You threatened my boss!”

“Oh my god. It’s not a big fucking deal.”

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