Page 15 of Puck with Karma
“Why didn’t you say so to begin with?” I snap at her, referring to our encounter last night. I did ask her about her job, and she refused to tell me.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to tell any stranger I meet what I do for a living,” she snaps right back in full force. It looks like she’s gotten over the shock of me scaring her a few minutes ago.
“You were inmybuilding,” I make sure to say, pointing at myself with my thumb. Since I still have my gloves on, it looks like I have a giant fist. To go with my enormous size, I suppose.
She takes a step forward in an attempt to get into my face. That’s impossible. She is tall for a girl, but not tall enough.
“Maybe you should’ve told me who you were from the beginning. Then we wouldn’t be in this awkward situation.”
I finally let out the smirk I’ve been holding. I take a second to look her up and down, making sure she knows I like what I’m seeing.
“It’s not awkward for me,” I grin from ear to ear. “In fact, I enjoy this.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Coach Harris snaps from somewhere behind me. “Hamilton, my office. Right fucking now.”
He puts a hand on my back and pushes. I guess I could fight it, but what would be the point. I’ll be getting my ass chewed one way or another, might as well get it over it.
“See ya around.” I wink at the new intern and walk away.
No one dares to cross my path when I clunk around on my way to the coach’s office. I walk in and drop in the seat that’s in front of his desk. It is the same chair I sat in during my first real encounter with him eight years ago. A glance around the room shows that nothing much has changed over the years. Same pictures on the walls… Same desk… Same chairs… Same… me.
Except that I am not the same me I was then. I am angrier now, so much angrier.
“Okay,” Coach Harris drops in his chair across from me. “Let’s get this show on the road. What the fuck was that?”
I raise an eyebrow in question. “Which part?”
I can tell that the way I asked the question is not sitting well with him. In fact, he’d like nothing better than to wring my neck right about now. He is staring at me without blinking, but his left eye betrays him when it twitches a couple of times.
“Are you looking to be put on waivers?” he finally asks.
I can’t lie, it surprises me. This is not my first time being called into the office. In fact, thanks to the endless on ice brawls, I am probably in here more than any other player on our team.
“What makes you think that?” I dare to ask, making the twitch in his eye get out of control.
“I’ve been called to the front office because of your behavior more times than I could count.”
He states it so matter of factly, it takes me a minute to process the words. As soon as my brain gets up to speed, I feel shame. I am a grown ass man, and he is giving me a talking to like I am in middle school.
“Coach,” I sigh. “You know that…”
“I know,” he stops me. “Butyou,” he points at me, “need to know that they are watching you. One mistake,” he puts his finger up, “just one more, and you’ll be placed on waivers. This is your warning.”
A million things cluster across my brain right now. Being put on waivers is something that a mediocre player would worry about. That happens when you’re not performing up to the team’s standards, so they let you go. At that point, if you get lucky, another team in the pros picks you up. If you’re not lucky, you end up playing in the minors.
I stare at the coach and he stares right back. The twitch in his eye is now gone. He is not angry anymore, just disappointed. For some reason, that gets to me a lot worse. I never cared about disappointing my father, but it’s different with Coach Harris. He’s been a mentor of sorts since I started with the team. I’m not sure where I would’ve ended had he not fought for me back then.
“Think about what you want, Xander,” he now advises me. “What you really want. Not what your father thinks you should do. Be your own man. You can do this.”
He knows the control my father has had over my career, and he also knows that I am on the home stretch with him.
“I don’t know where my head is at anymore,” I finally say out loud the words I never dared to say to anyone else. “He wants to negotiate a new contract. I want him out.”
Coach Harris nods in understanding.
“Then don’t let him back in. This will be your chance to be an adult. Take control of your life.”
I let out a snort at that. Being an adult has never been my problem. Being an adult with no authority over my own life has been though. All because I entered into a legally binding contract before I could even drink legally. And I’ve been paying for it ever since.
