Page 13 of Cheap Shot
“Say hi to Michele,” Stacey chirps from the other side of the door, her hand suddenly coming into view as she wiggles her cell phone in my face.
“Hi, Michele,” Parker says with a smile and a small wave, causing me to laugh softly.
“Hey, Parker.” I wave back before grabbing the veggies and chicken and standing to my full height, waiting for her to pull her arm out of the way. “I guess our girl is feeling much better this evening.”
“It would seem so. If I’d gone by the voice message she left me this morning, I'd have thought she was dying.”
“I had been puking for hours. How else did you expect me to sound?” Stacey grumbles, turning the phone screen toward her and sticking her tongue out at Parker.
“No more puking, though, right?”
“She better not, or I’m sending her to your place,” I shout, wanting to make sure he heard me as I drop everything on the counter. “She knows I love her, but not enough to deal with puke more than once in this lifetime.”
The prep work to make this soup isn’t hard, but it is tedious. Thank goodness for the fancy chopper Dad got me for Christmas a few years ago. Judging by the way Stacey is licking her lips as I wash the veggies, I doubt she has the patience for me to dice everything by hand. After I finish washing everything, I bend down to grab the large soup pot from the cabinet.
“You’re going to need to get used to seeing all types of bodily fluids if you’re going to be working in the Timberwolves locker room.”
“Fuck!” I shout as I slam my head into the cabinet frame before snapping to my full height. I rush toward Stacey, basically ripping the phone out of her hand and turning the screen toward me. “What did you say?”
Before Parker can answer, Stacey gasps loudly. “Wait! That’s what was wrong, isn’t it?”
My cheeks heat in embarrassment, but I nod my head in the affirmative, my eyes still focused on Parker’s face. He gives nothing away, his eyes looking anywhere but at me.
“Spill it, mister. You can’t say something like that to her and not give us the details.” Stacey snatches the phone from my hand as I drop to the floor.
The floor is fucking gross. I can’t remember the last time I mopped it, but it doesn’t matter. Stacey walks all over the place with her bare feet all the time. I push to my feet, making a beeline for the sink and filling my hands with soap. With the water turned on high, I scrub my hands together and rub the suds up and down my arms, all the way to my elbows for good measure. I’m spiraling again, and I know it, but damn if I know how to make it stop. Just as I’m about to fill my hand with soap a second time, Stacey grips my hand tightly in hers. She doesn’t say a word, her eyes narrowed at Parker’s reflection on the phone.
“Babe, I could lose my job for saying anything in the first place. Can’t we just go back to talking about how you’re feeling?”
“Not if you want to have sex with your girlfriend.”
Damn, my bestie brought out the big guns in this fight. I give Stacey’s hand a small squeeze, letting her know I’m okay. “It’s okay. I can wait and hear from the hiring manager like everyone else.”
“No, you can’t. Especially when my very loving boyfriend already knows whether you managed to snag your dream job.” Stacey pats my hand softly before turning her attention back to the phone. “Right, honey?”
“Shit,” Parker swears loudly as Stacey turns her phone around. Parker’s entire demeanor has changed since I saw him earlier. His eyes flick between Stacey and me before he runs his hand through his hair. “The hiring manager may have let me know they had decided on an applicant before Stacey called.”
“And?” Stacey motions with her free hand for him to continue speaking. “Did they give you a name?”
I know there is no way that the name the hiring manager gave to Parker for the new physiotherapist for the Portland Timberwolves is mine because when I applied, I didn’t use it. I know what you’re thinking. Lying on a job application is illegal, at least I think it is, but it was the only way I could guarantee no one knew it was me.
Michele Mercer, youngest daughter of three-time Stanley Cup-winning coach Graham Mercer, could get any job she wanted from the Timberwolves organization, regardless of how unqualified I was for the job. I didn’t want that. I’ve wanted to work with a world-class NHL hockey team since the first time my dad brought me to a practice when I was a little girl. At first, it was a way for me to spend more time with my dad, but eventually, it became a game I loved with my whole heart. I was never going to be a hockey player. I’m way too clumsy for that, but the body and how it works has always fascinated me. After I took my first sports medicine class, I was hooked.
I could’ve asked Dad to put in a good word for me so I could get the job easily, but not without strings and a very healthy guilt trip. I almost passed on applying in the first place, afraid of Dad interfering, but the more time that passed, the more I realized I wanted it. I wanted to be given the chance to be part of the Timberwolves training team. I just needed to figure out how to get it myself, hence the use of a fake name.
“What name did you put on the application again?” Parker asks, shuffling papers around on his desk. “I know I have the name here somewhere.”
“The first thing you are doing when we get off this phone is cleaning off your damn desk.” Stacey groans before turning her attention to me. “This would’ve been so much easier if you had told someone besides me what you were doing.”
I didn’t want to tell a soul about even applying for the job, but after one too many bottles of wine after sending the applications off to the hiring manager, I spilled my guts. I had to bribe her with double chocolate brownies and pay to have her laundry done for a week to convince her to keep it from Parker, but as you can see, that didn’t last long. There’s no doubt in my mind that if Parker knew, he’d have told my dad, and everything would’ve been for nothing. I needed to do this on my own. Fake name and all.
Stacey spilled her guts the moment her last load of prepaid laundry was delivered to the condo. She’s never been good at keeping secrets, especially from Parker and me. I knew she was going to spill the beans at some point, but I’d hoped I had more time before telling Parker. Thankfully, it all worked out, and I don’t have to wait any longer to find out if my dream job is mine.
“Sadie Morris,” I whisper, sending a silent prayer to the powers that be that everything is going to work out as I planned.
I’ve always been an overachiever. Taking enough AP classes to have an associate's degree before even graduating high school, then finishing college and managing to get a master's degree in physiotherapy before I turned twenty-one, it’s a no-brainer that I’d want to work for the best team in the league. Sure, there are other places to work, but Oregon is my home.
Yes, I chose my college based on how far away it was from my family, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love Oregon. The plan was always to come home, find a job, and be the best version of myself. Besides, Dad has been coaching the Timberwolves since I was nine years old. My entire childhood was spent in this city. It’s as much a part of me as this team is. I want this more than anything else in my life, and it’s finally within my grasp.
