Page 62 of Game Changer
Scott: Oh.
For some reason Scott had liked the idea of Kip being in his apartment, even when he wasn’t there.
Kip: Everything all right?
Scott: I think it will be. I’ll talk to you about it later.
Kip: Ok.
Scott: Sorry again for rushing off. I had a great night.
Kip: Don’t apologize. I had an amazing night. Thank you.
Scott smiled.When can I see you again?
Kip: Insatiable!
Scott: I am.
Kip: Call me later? When you’re done. We can figure it out.
Scott: Deal.
* * *
Kip had been trying to relax at home all day, but he kept wondering how Scott was doing, and what was happening with Zullo. If Scott was upset, or worried about the game tonight. If he’d gotten to go for his game-day run, even if he couldn’t buy a smoothie from Kip. Did the routine even matter to Scott anymore?
There had been a midday press conference, which Kip had watched in case Scott was there. Instead it had just been his coach, Harv Murdock, addressing the media.
Murdock announced that Zullo had been cut from the team. Kip didn’t know much about Frank Zullo other than what Scott had told him last night, but Scott had to be at least a little relieved that he was gone.
While he’d been reading the updates on the Zullo situation online, Kip had also checked out the Admirals’ upcoming schedule. It looked like Scott would be in town for a while. The Admirals played five games over the next week, including the one tonight. The next game was against the Brooklyn Scouts. Then there were two home games at Madison Square Garden, and an away game in Boston next Saturday.
Kip wondered how much of the next week he could spend with Scott. He didn’t want to push.
He had expected it to be Scott when his phone rang around one o’clock, but instead he had been surprised by a call from the Museum of the City of New York. They wanted him to come in for aninterview. Holy shit!
“Absolutely,” he had stammered into his phone. “Definitely. Yes. Thank you.”
He had cringed at himself, and then scrambled for a pen so he could jot downMonday, 3:00on his hand. He’d have to go to the interview straight from work. Jesus, how was he possibly going to not look like a total wreck?
It was over three hours later when he heard from Scott. He was stretched out on his bed, reading a novel, when the phone rang.
“Hi. Sounds like you’re having a day,” Kip said when he picked up.
He heard Scott exhale into the receiver. “Yeah. It’s been nuts.”
“How are you?”
“Frustrated. Angry. Relieved. I don’t know.”
“Did you get to go for your run?”
“No. I hit a treadmill pretty hard here at the rink, but no. Everything is just a mess today. Can’t quite get my head focused. I hate feeling like this.”
“That sucks. Sorry.”
“The day started out great...”
