Page 67 of Slapshot
“But?” my dad asks with a smirk like he can’t believe Lex might turn him down.
“Can I have a few days to think about it?”
“Absolutely.”
I pull my leg away from his grip under the table. Lex shoots me an apologetic grimace of a smile. My head is going to explode and now I’m angry at both of them and I can’t figure out why. Why shouldn’t Lex want a job working in a field he loves and where he can be close to school? It would be a great opportunity for him, and I’d get to see him more. Girlfriends want good things for their boyfriends, right? Then why do I suddenly feel like I want to cry?
“I think I’m going to head back to the hotel. It’s getting late.” I stand abruptly.
“I’ll come with you.” Lex starts to get out of his chair, but I stop him.
“No, it’s okay. Stay. I’ll be fine and I really would like to be alone. I suddenly have a throbbing headache.”
I know Lex well enough to know he’ll follow me no matter what I say, but I get a stroke of good luck when Coach Garfunkle stands to give the guys more instructions for where to meet and what time tomorrow morning. I should probably hear the instructions as well, but nothing is more important than fleeing this second.
My room is the first place Lex will look when he finally does come after me, so I hide out at the hotel bar. It’s large and I find perfect cover beside two big guys that block me from the doorway.
I take two shots of tequila before my brain starts working, deciphering what just happened and picking it apart. My frustration at my dad turns to frustration at Lex. He knows how sensitive I am about my dad and people using me to get to him. He just sat there and acted like everything was fine. He needs a few days to think about it? My stomach knots at the thought of it. Would he really work for my dad?
The liquor makes my face warm and feeds my anger. I don’t know if it’s justified, but I know it’s how I feel. Why don’t I want Lex to work there? Have I really held such a grudge that him working there feels like betrayal or is it something else?
And is it too much to ask of my dad to like me more than my hockey boyfriend? He’s met Lex twice and he’s just offering up amazing opportunities like they grow on trees. Or maybe he really is just trying to help him because he’s my boyfriend?
Ugh. I don’t know and I hate that I don’t because I should. If nothing else, I should know without a doubt that my father loves me more than hockey or his company. Because if he can’t love me like that what chance is there anyone else can?
* * *
I manage to avoid Lex all night, but his calls and the frequent knocks on my door throughout the night keep me from sleeping well. I’m not sure what it says about me that I don’t want to give him a chance to explain his side. I guess it feels like opening myself up to pain. Inviting it in and letting it take what’s left of my trust and hope.
I hadn’t realized how much of that Lex holds in his hands.
Somewhere after three shots of tequila, I very sanely decided that I would talk to Lex, but first I needed to figure out how I feel about him taking the job and what it means for us. Because of course he will. I texted him to say we’d talk tomorrow and that he should go to bed and rest up for the game. He listened.
I sleep through my alarm. I must have shut it off in that hazy place between conscious and unconscious. The room phone is what finally wakes me. I reach for it and bring it to my ear and mumble some unintelligible greeting.
“Kaitlyn? This is Coach Garfunkle. We’re all downstairs waiting on you. Everything okay?”
I fling myself out of bed with the phone still at my ear. “Yes. Yes. I’m so sorry. I’ll be right down.”
I’m at the bus three minutes later. I don’t meet anyone’s eyes, but I feel all of theirs on me as I take my seat up front. Last night’s alcohol sits uneasy in my stomach and even after brushing my teeth, my mouth feels dry and gross.
When we get to the arena, I throw myself into the job. I grab the heaviest bag and take off toward the door with superhuman strength. At least for a few steps.
“I got it.” Lex tries to take it from me, grabbing the handle.
I hold tight. “I’ve already got it. Thanks.”
I don’t look at him. I can’t. The only way I’m going to get through this game is to not look at his face. Of course, my stubborn boyfriend doesn’t give up right away, so I mumble, “Seriously, I’m fine. Please.” The last is a plea that goes way beyond needing him to let go of the bag.
“Okay,” he says. His tone is sad and resigned, and he takes off ahead of me.
20
Lex
This should be the most exciting game I’ve played all season, but my head isn’t in it. Kaitlyn won’t look me in the eye. I know it isn’t the time or place, but I just need two minutes with her to figure out what the fuck happened last night.
One minute I was acting as her buffer, sweating my ass off, trying to talk to her dad and hopefully take some of the heat off her, and the next thing I know he’s offering me a job. A great job. That is not even in the top one thousand ways I would have predicted last night going.
