Page 73 of Thrown for a Loop
The crowd outside gives another shout, and three more playershead for the van. “I thought we were in enemy territory,” I say. “This is madness.”
“Everyone likes a winner, Coach,” DeLuca says. “Hey—I heard you and my buddy Chase are doing a number at the jamboree! That’s gonna be wild.”
My chin whips in his direction. “You heard thatalready? Where?”
“I think it was ESPN,” he says gravely.
“What?”
DeLuca laughs. “Aw, Coach Carson, that was just a joke. I got an email in my inbox from the PR dude. We all have a production meeting in, like, two days. Mandatory. And he mentioned you two in it.”
“Oh.” I sag back against the seat. “Maybe this is his way of trying to make sure we don’t back out. I cannot for the life of me understand why Chase would agree to this.”
“I got some theories.” DeLuca chuckles. “That old video was very educational.”
“They’re wrong, I promise. Chase doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Hmm.” He grins. “Merry is one of my best friends, but he keeps a tight lock on what he’s thinking. And then there’s the whole contract negotiation thing.”
“What thing?”
“He’s up for renewal this spring. It’s easier for management to renew him early if he’s not a PR headache. Not to mention that his sponsors will love this.”
“Oh.” That makes sense. “So this is a financial decision.”
DeLuca’s mouth quirks into a smile. “That’s one theory. The only thing I know for sure is that shit just got interesting.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. “One more question—when Sailor makes a meeting mandatory, does everyone really show up?”
“Oh yeah. He stacks the deck, though, by ordering the best bagels in New York, with all the toppings.”
“Smart.” If I can’t get Jean-Luc Moreau into a coaching session soon, I might give that method a whirl.
Chapter 26
The next morning, my mother forwards me a photo from social media, taken outside the stadium. It’s a shot of me jogging after Chase like a puppy that’s been left behind.
Chasing Chase Merritt! Trouble in Paradise?
I hate the internet. I really do.
Mom:What is THIS?
Zoe:I was running for the van! Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.
Mom:Just don’t forget what happened the last time with that boy. He never cared about you. But you don’t listen.
Good grief. If she follows up with “boys only want one thing,” we might fall through a hole in the universe and end up in the 1950s.
I put the phone down. I can’t afford to think about Chase right now, or about the jamboree. It’s a willful act of forgetfulness, in the same way that not opening a bill prevents you from knowing how much you owe or when you need to pay it.
I’m too busy planning my upcoming master class, which the whole team will attend. This is my chance to get in front of the holdouts, so it had better be the best damn ninety minutes in the history of skating.
My vow to ignore Chase is challenged, though, during our matchup with Boston. It’s a home game, so I watch from the press box. And I scream like a lottery winner when Chase gets two assists and a goal.
We win the game 4–2, and the next dayThe Athleticactually prints:Chase Merritt is back from the dead, scoring for the Legends again.
I’m practically levitating with glee, at least until I slip into Steve Sailor’s mandatory PR meeting at one minute to ten. Most of the seats are already taken, but the bagels are plentiful. I grab a sesame bagel and spread half with lox schmear and half with strawberry cream cheese. Et voilà: lunch on one side of my plate and dessert on the other.
