Page 101 of The New Guy
On my sweaty trip back down the tunnel, a journalist sticks a microphone in my face. “Can we expect more of this from Hudson Newgate in the postseason?”
It’s a dumb question, but I smile anyway. “Sure thing!”
“Your father must be so proud of tonight’s effort.”
“One in a row!” I say cheerfully.
But the journalist wasn’t wrong. My dad is elated with my performance tonight. After the game—and my shower, and the press conference—he can’t stop gushing about my speed and focus. “More of that the day after tomorrow,” he says, even as my mother rolls her eyes and leans heavily against the wall in the corridor outside the dressing room.
“Right on,” I say, finally tired. “I’d better head home and get some z’s. You guys, too, right? Mom looks like she’s asleep on her feet.”
My father glances toward her, like maybe he’s forgotten she’s there. “Yeah, good plan. We need you rested.” His eyes narrow, though. “You’re heading straight home?”
“Sure.” Then I narrow my eyes. “Emphasis onstraight, right?”
“Hudson.” He actually looks over both shoulders, making sure nobody is within earshot. “Don’t be careless. Not now.”
“I’m never careless,” I hiss. “But one day soon I’m going to live my truth out loud. And I’m going to do that with all the care in the world. So brace yourself.”
* * *
I go home alone, of course. But in the taxi, I check my texts. There’s a selfie of Gavin and Jordyn at the game, smiling happily. And another selfie of Gavin drinking a beer, and giving me silly eyes over the rim of the cup. And a picture of Jordyn jumping up and down with her Bombshells pom-poms in her hands.
That last one is from your assist! We screamed. Amazing game! Thanks again for this gift. So awesome.
I tuck my phone into my jacket pocket and watch the lit-up store fronts glide by. Making Gavin happy is almost as satisfying as playing well tonight.
He has no idea how motivated I am to prove myself to him. We can have a real life together.
I just have to make it happen.
THIRTY-FIVE
Gavin
MAY
The playoffs are a thrilling,grueling experience for everyone who works for the Bruisers. That’s because everything that happens during those tacked-on weeks is handled a little differently than during the regular season. Ticket sales, travel, transportation—it’s all done on the fly.
There are new faces in the locker room, too, as extra players are called up from the minors to practice with the Brooklyn coaches, just in case our top team suffers injuries during the race for the cup.
I love my job, but the pace is overwhelming.
Management knows that, though, which is why they treat the whole staff to a catered lunch the day after that first victory.
I’m eating a world class fish taco and chatting with Henry when the team’s General Manager walks up to greet us. “Hey, Henry. Any new issues I should know about after last night’s game?” Hugh Major is an imposing man in his mid-fifties, with a shaved head and broad shoulders. His voice is deep and commanding, with a steely edge that probably makes the rookies quake.
“My report will be on your desk this afternoon,” he says. “I’m waiting on MRI results for a sore knee, but I don’t anticipate any nasty surprises.”
“Excellent!” the GM crows. “Gavin, we haven’t properly met,” he booms, offering a hand to me. “Have you settled in? I know we’re a lot to take on. But it’s great that you've been able to give Henry some crucial backup.”
“I’m doing my best,” I say, setting my plate down so I can shake his hand. “The learning curve is steep, but you have a great group of people here.”
“Gavin is being modest,” Henry says. “The guys love him. The women’s team would like to steal him. I interview guys all the time, but when I interviewed Gavin, I knew he was special. It’s rare to find someone who has a deep understanding of anatomy as well as impressive communication skills. We’re so lucky he said yes to joining us.”
“That is a really nice thing to say.” My face is on fire now. “If you could give that same speech to my mother-in-law, that would be helpful.”
The GM laughs. “I knowthatfeeling. We’re never quite good enough for their precious daughters, right?”
