Page 36 of Rookie Move
Leo obeyed, straightening up to his full height and dropping his hands to his sides. After a few deep breaths he was steady on his feet as they entered the lobby.
“You have a coat check?” Silas asked.
“Uh...” Leo dug into his pocket, coming out with the paper tag.
Silas took it. “Wait here. Two minutes.”
His jaw throbbing, Leo leaned back against a pillar and looked up at the ornamental ceiling far above him. Someone had gone to the trouble to make the room look like aforest in winter. Tomorrow the place would be back to looking like a music hall.
He had to wonder whether he’d be back to looking like a minor league player in the morning. Getting punched by the coach? Not an auspicious sign.
***
By the time Silas got him home in a cab, his phone had lit up several times with numbers he didn’t recognize. He didn’t answer any of them. The lights in the hallway outside their apartment were all too bright. He just wanted to put some ice on his aching face and go to bed.
“How old is Georgia?” Silas asked as the door swung open, and Leo realized they hadn’t spoken all the way home.
“Twenty-four,” Leo mumbled, his jaw stiff.
“Can’t punch a man for kissing your daughter unless he’s robbin’ the cradle.”
“Apparently you can.” It hurt to speak. Leo headed straight for his room.
Silas chuckled. “You need anything? Motrin? Water? A lawyer, maybe?”
“Just ice.”
“I’ll bring you a pack.”
Leo waved a hand. “You don’t have to, man.”
“I know.”
He stripped off the tux and got ready for bed, ignoring his phone. In the mirror, his jaw looked swollen already. So he stopped looking at it. He took a pain reliever and lifted his suitcase off the bed and onto the floor. First thing tomorrow morning he’d be getting on a plane with the team and Coach Worthington. Wouldn’t that be cozy.
Silas walked in, an ice pack in one of his hands, a phone in the other. “You’re not answering, apparently. The team’s doctor is looking for you.”
“Thanks,” Leo grunted, taking the ice and—reluctantly—the phone. “Hello?”
“Mr. Trevi, I hear you took a punch to the jaw.”
“Yessir,” he said, trying to enunciate so the doctor would know he was okay, and leave him alone. He sat down on the bed. “It’s not too bad, though.”
“How are your teeth?” the doctor asked. “Any looseness?”
“No.”
“Did the skin break or abrade either inside or outside your mouth?”
“Don’t think so.” He didn’t feel like getting up to check, either.
“Are you experiencing nausea or dizziness?
“No. Just pain.”
“On a scale of 1 to...”
“...Just a three,” Leo broke in, inventing a number. “Hurts at the point of impact. I took a couple of Advil. I’m icing it.”
