Page 15 of The Home Grown
“Yep—he’s had a similar output to you this season, so I think it’s only fair to assume he’ll be at camp too.”
“Fuck’s sake.” I let out an exasperated breath before grabbing one of Johnny’s sofa cushions and shoving it over my head. I may as well end it all now. Because it’d be a damn sight more enjoyable than being up against Langer.
Another cushion comes flying at me from Danny’s direction, and I abandon the attempt on my life.
“One defence spot, by the look of it,” Johnny says. “And two wingers.”
“How did you figure that out?” Danny asks.
“Well, we know who retired last year, and we know where they were on the roster,” Johnny says. “And Buttons has an injury. There’s a spot right there. Honestly, you guys don’t pay any attention.”
I pause, half debating grabbing the cushion again, because that will mean that Langer will literally be the one to beat. Johnny’s right—I’m unprepared and I don’t know if I stand a chance.
What if I got selected to make up the numbers because the pool of British defenceman available is slim pickings?
Johnny reels off names of wingers and Danny looks like he’s thinking along the same lines as me.
“Got any of the good coffee, Cap?” Danny says. “I think we could all do with a cup.”
“In the cupboard—right, Betts … defencemen … Patrick Langdon and Sean Knowles. That’s my guess.”
I consider this for a moment. Knowlsey’s a good guy but I think my presence is more effective in the PK … but Langer—he’s a piece of work and the more I think about him, the more my head hurts.
“Please, can you bring some paracetamol with the coffee, Dan? And a banana.”
“On it,” he calls back from the kitchen.
“Betts—you know this needs to stop, right?” Johnny says. “I’m starting to sound like a record stuck on repeat, but the partying and late nights need to be done with.”
“I agree—but we were celebrating. Again.”
Johnny sighs.
But in all seriousness, the news of being up against Langer is forcing me to re-consider my actions. Starting tomorrow … no booze and no junk food, along with my vow of no sex.
A banana comes flying at me a second before Danny places a mug down on the coffee table, alongside a blister pack of pain killers.
I force myself into a sitting position and pop two tablets into my mouth, swigging them down with a bottle of water I had on the floor next to me. Then I get started with the banana.
Instant relief.
I’m about to reach for my coffee when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Hutch’s name is flashing up on the screen and since he’s a texter, not a talker, I answer it straight away.
“There’s some girl buzzing on the intercom for you,” he says. “And before you ask—it’s not Rochelle.”
“Who is it then?” I ask.
“Not sure.”
Hutch and I share an apartment on the fifth floor; with Johnny being on the eighth floor, it means I can be home in a matter of seconds. However, since I’m not expecting anyone, and I’m busy, whoever it is can wait.
“Tell her I’m unavailable,” I say.
Hutch hangs up, and I tune back into Johnny.
He’s got a spreadsheet open now, adding stats and various bits of information he deems necessary, but since he’s got it in hand, I make myself comfortable so I can drink my coffee.
