Page 9 of Puck King
The elevator opened directly into my loft. I grabbed a bottle of beer from the bar that overlooked the skyline, flopped into the reclining section of my leather sofa, and turned on the TV. I was able to watch approximately two minutes of the Florida game before the announcers started talking about the changes to the Thunder.
I changed the channel and was assaulted with a full screen photo of me and Brittany walking down the street on an entertainment show. A body language expert was explaining that we must have hated each other. I rolled my eyes. Brittany had hated public displays of affection, and I was the one who was always trying to hold her hand. Giving up on TV, I switched over to a streaming platform and turned on my favorite show,Brooklyn Nine-Nine. No matter what was happening in my life, that show made me laugh – and I needed it. My body hurt, my reputation was tarnished, and my team was a few losses away from being the laughing stock of the league.
Are you still watching?
My eyes blinked open to see the screen asking me a question. Morning sunlight streamed in through the twenty-foot windows. “Shit.” I un-reclined my chair and wondered what time it was. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that it was just before seven a.m. I poured myself a glass of water and the phone rang while I was stretching.
Everleigh.
I declined the call and changed into my workout clothes. Some days I worked out with the team, but I’d decided to give them a break from the paparazzi and use my home gym instead. I had bought the entire floor below me and had combined all the units into a state-of-the-art training facility. I didn’t have to leave my building if I didn’t want to.
My phone rang again and I ignored it. I didn’t have to look at it to know that it was Everleigh. The call was followed up by a billion texts all in a row. I finished my protein bar and green shake and turned off the sound on my phone.
My shoulder barkedat me for the whole workout, but I ignored it. Metallica blared out of my noise-canceling headphones, and for that glorious hour of working out, I forgot all about my problems. Until a finger tapped me on the shoulder.
The sore one.
“Ouch.” I turned to see my sister staring at me, her hand on her hip.
“You don’t have to yell.” She took the headphones off my head and handed them to me.
I put them back on, and this time I knew I was yelling. “I’m not done my workout yet.”
Everleigh yanked off the headphones again, but this time she held them behind her back. “Why didn’t you answer my call?”
I picked up the bar and continued my deadlifts. “I’m busy.”
“Would you have ignored Brock?”
I shrugged and completed a rep. “He wouldn’t have called me this early.”
A frustrated Everleigh blew air between her lips. “Did you ever stop to think that it might be important? That I might have been kidnapped and you just missed the ransom call?”
I dropped the bar and the weights thudded on the rubberized floor. Everleigh’s face was serious. “Were you kidnapped?” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Don’t laugh, you asshole.” She pushed the weights away from me with the toe of her high-heeled boots so she could stand in front of me. “You know that kidnapping is a real threat for us.”
“Since when?” I crossed my arms, but quickly had to readjust as the searing pain from my shoulder shot down my arm.
“What was that?” Everleigh stared at my arm.
“Nothing.” I cleared my throat.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I was calling to let you know that I spent yesterday replacing all of the health team.”
I popped the top on my water bottle and took a sip. “You mean, you spent the entire day replacing the staff that you fired for no reason.”
Everleigh took off her suede glove and checked her phone. “Your eight o’clock appointment is here.”
My forehead knitted and I racked my brain. “What appointment?”
The heels of her boots were muted by the rubberized floor as she walked to the door. “The appointment you’d know about if you picked up your phone. And by the looks of that shoulder, you’re going to need her.”
“Her?” I took a big swig of water and wiped my lips with the back of my hand, following her to the door. “You replaced Mike, the best physiotherapist in the city, with a woman?”
Everleigh stopped and turned. “And you wonder why the press doesn’t like you?” she hissed. “You can’t say shit like that.”
I groaned and returned to the weight bench. “It’s not like that.”
