Page 100 of The Last Guy On Earth
Yeah, don’t do that. You can’t be all up in your head about me and win the Cup.
Frustrated, I stab the call icon and wait to see if he’ll pick up.
“Yes, Coach?” Jethro’s voice says a moment later.
“What is your point?” I demand. “What do you want from me?”
“A lot of things,” he says silkily. “But I can’t exactly reach through the phone and grab your dick. And you took that off the table, anyway. Or you tried to, but as far as I can see, it’s not working.”
“Of course it’s working! What are you talking about?” I’m so frustrated right now I want to throw the phone across the room.
And the stupid truth is that if he were here right now, I’d do whatever he wanted. Plus some more. Maybe then I could fall asleep.
He sighs. “Look. I can’t play hockey if I’m worrying about disappointing you on a personal level. And you can’t make good tactical decisions when you’re carrying the weight of my teetering career on your conscience.”
“I’m not,” I insist. “That wasn’t our problem tonight.”
“My mistake, then.”
I sigh.
“Look,” he says. “Youchosethis. Your whole life is set up to win this championship. So go do that, no matter what it costs. Tonight was a shitty game, but I’m not going to crumble. I’ll work my ass off any time you put me in the net. But it’s your job to use me like any other weapon in your arsenal. Deploy me or don’t. But don’t second guess us both, because it’s not helping.”
There’s a tight band of discomfort around my chest, because the truth hurts. “You’ve been heard.”
“Clay, I need the Cougars to keep winning. The minute we lose, I’m on a plane to Michigan, dealing with family stuff. Sotry not to let that happen right away, yeah? Be brutal. Play me or don’t. My time with this team is short either way, so make it count.”
I wince at every blow he delivers, because every one of them is a direct hit. This is exactly why we keep experienced athletes on the roster. They can see the bigger picture.
But something else he just said is bothering me. “Is everything okay with the family?”
He’s silent for a second. “Clay.”
“Hey—I ask about everybody’s family. Pierre’s girlfriend is pregnant, so Liana is sending a fruit basket. And Dougherty’s kid just got braces and a teddy bear from the team.”
Jethro snorts. “All right. Here’s the Hale family update—my felon of a sister finished rehab and got transferred back to genpop. My kid wants to spend time with her this summer so we can all watch her relapse.”
Oh shit.“Well, Mr. Hale, the team usually sends roses for this kind of family milestone. But Liana can probably recommend a thornless arrangement if we’re worried about shivs.”
He barks out a laugh. “That’s nice, Coach. But a team who really wanted to show their love would send a carton of cigarettes. I’ve heard they’re like gold inside.”
“You’re right. Nothing sayswe carequite like contraband tobacco. I’ll ask my assistant to update our gift policy.”
“See that you do.”
I smile up at the ceiling. Talking to Jethro makes me feel less lonely. But he needs me to coach the team as if he’s just another player.
If only I could figure out how to do that.
FORTY-THREE
Jethro
After I hangup with Clay, I put the phone down and turn off the light. I close my eyes, imagining him somewhere in this same building, doing exactly the same thing. I can picture him lying in bed so clearly, one arm curved around his head on the pillow. It’s hard to believe that was once my nightly view.
Near the end of our doomed relationship in Busker, we finally started sharing a bed. I think it happened by accident the first time—like he was too sexually satisfied to get up and cross the room to his own bed.
Or maybe it was me. I can’t even remember anymore. All I know is that I liked it, but I tried not to think too much about it. I didn’t want it to mean anything.
