Page 18 of Puck King
After the call disconnected, I turned to Hollie.
“I’m so happy for you.” She smiled. “And, that’s the coliseum.” She pointed to the address. “You’d better get going if you want to make it there in time.”
The security guardlet me in the players’ doors and the hallways echoed as I followed his directions to the offices at the top of the massive rink. After running to the subway from Hollie’s apartment, I was sweating profusely under my down jacket.
Her door was ajar as I approached. “Come in, Alison.”
As I entered the room, I realized that it wasn’t just me and Everleigh. My heart skipped as the man seated across from Everleigh’s giant executive desk stood and turned to face me. I was ready for Everleigh, but I wasn’t prepared for the asshole.
“Mr. King.” I nodded as I unzipped my jacket, hoping that my sweat hadn’t soaked through the armpits of my shirt.
“Hi…”
“It’s Alison.” I could tell that he couldn’t remember my name, and by the stunned look on his face, I wondered if he remembered me at all.
“Of course. Alison.” He shook my hand. “Sorry, I’m not great with names.”
Or faces, I added in my head.
“Can I get you anything? A glass of water perhaps?” Everleigh looked at me over the top of her chic tortoiseshell glasses.
I went to speak, but my throat had gone dry. “Actually, a glass of water…” I croaked, “would be great.”
Everleigh disappeared into the hallway and Colton followed, leaving me alone in her office. Something was off. Not ‘serial killer off’, but they were acting strangely. I noticed the stack of tabloids on Everleigh’s desk and a file folder with my name on it. I hung my coat on the hook by the door and stole a glance into the hallway. Everleigh and Colton were arguing by the water cooler. My hands shook as I tiptoed to the desk and opened the file folder. There were photos of my graduation, and underneath them were some legal looking documents. I flipped through them quickly and assumed they were the non-disclosure agreements, but underneath that, there was a photo of Brian – and one of our past patients. It was grainy, as though it had been taken from far away. But there was no doubt that it was Brian, naked, through the window of our apartment, kissing another woman.
What the hell was going on? My stomach wrenched and my vision blurred. The sound of their returning footsteps sent a surge of adrenaline through my body and the room came back into focus. I slammed the file shut and took a seat in the chair, wondering what the hell the royal family of hockey had up the sleeves of their jerseys, and if it was too late for me to run.
Nine
Colton
The roarof the fans in the stands, combined with the ear-splitting drone of the foghorn after a goal, was obviously my favorite time to be in the arena. But after everyone left, the sound of my skates cutting through the fresh sheet of ice, quietly echoing through the dimmed lights of King Coliseum, was a close second.
Tonight, Everleigh had summoned me to her office for an emergency meeting. She had concocted a scheme. I could feel it. The fact that she wouldn’t let me in on any of the details had me worried.
“You’d better not be trading me.” I didn’t knock, and strode into her office.
“Come in.” She didn’t look up from her paperwork. “Don’t worry, I’m not trading you – yet.” She shut the file folder on her desk and smirked.
It seemed insane that my sister was now in charge of my life in a way I’d never imagined possible. And worst of all, I could see that she was enjoying it. She had always wanted Dad’s attention, but her lack of hockey skills had made that impossible. Our dad loved the game. I didn’t choose to be his favorite, I was just the one who embodied the thing that meant the most to him – hockey. She had been jealous her whole life, and now, here she was, Dad’s right-hand woman calling the shots.
“What’s going on then? And why did I have to come down here when I’m coming back at five o’clock in the morning?”
Everleigh looked at her Rolex and tapped her finger on the file folder. “She should be here soon.”
“She?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
A smile crept across Everleigh’s face as we heard footsteps approaching, and then the physiotherapist that I’d totally insulted, unintentionally, walked into the room.
I followed Everleigh to the water cooler, leaving the woman, Alison, in Everleigh’s office.
“What the hell is she doing here?” I hissed. “I told you. I don’t think that we need her.”
“Keep your voice down.” Everleigh poured a glass of water from the cooler. “She might be listening.”
“I don’t care. She believes in all this woo shit.”
Everleigh raised her eyebrows above her glasses. “By woo shit, do you mean acupuncture?”
