Page 125 of Thrown for a Loop
Meanwhile, the uncertainty of where we’ll both be next year is weighing on me. My rapport with the Legends is on an upswing, and I’m desperate for Mr. Sharp to notice. Every player on the roster has spent time with me, some of them frequently. I’ve even got Moreau skating better. But the clock is winding down on the season, and Sharp hasn’t said a peep about extending my contract. Which makes me think he’s interviewing other candidates.
Don’t think about it, I remind myself. It’s just that I’m so damn good at worrying.
My scouting reports are complete by early afternoon. So I print them out in the hotel’s business center, then text Darcy to ask where I can find Mr. Sharp.
She directs me to the twelfth floor, where Sharp is renting a conference room. I find her seated at a makeshift command post outside. Her laptop, phone, and files are spread out on a small desk.“Perfect timing,” she whispers when she spots me. “My bladder is about to burst. Could you watch my stuff for literally two minutes? Sharp’s on a call.”
“Sure.” I slide into her vacant chair as she darts off.
The conference room door is ajar, and I can hear Sharp’s voice droning on to someone about various roster options. “… Yeah, I know. The goalies in Manitoba are hot garbage. Don’t waste my time with Larsson—I wouldn’t take a blow job from him, let alone a player. Now Koszlowski… the kid’s quick but needs seasoning. Maybe in two years…”
I feel sorry for whoever is on the other end of that call.
“… Yeah, let’s go over that. Hang on, let me check something. DARCY! YOU THERE?”
I freeze. If I announce myself, Sharp will rope me into a bullshit task. But if I stay quiet, Darcy might get in trouble for leaving her post.
Before I can decide what to do, he returns to his call. “Okay, I gotta talk fast. The Merritt deal isn’t signed yet. He’s dragging his feet, because Montreal is showing himfuck meeyes. And I can’t afford to sweeten again—not if I want to manage the budget, yeah? But don’t panic—I got a sweet little trick up my sleeve. Won’t cost us a penny in salary cap. Dude is definitely coming back.”
A sweet little trick?
“Everything okay?” Darcy whispers, appearing beside me.
“Uh, yup!” I spring out of her chair. Then I thrust my report in her direction. “Do you mind giving these to him? I don’t feel like waiting.”
“Sure!” She takes the folder. “Coffee later?”
“You bet!” I say, already backing away from the desk. My mind is racing with what I just heard.
A sweet little trick.Knowing Sharp, it’s something evil.
I spend the rest of the day—including during the four p.m. game—worrying about what I overheard. Even while Darcy and I cheer from the hotel lounge, with its giant TV screen and tasty snacks, I feel anxious.
The problem is that I don’t really know much about player contracts. There are various ways to entice players to sign, like no-trade clauses and bonus money. So it’s possible that Sharp’s “sweet little trick” is something normal and not at all shady. Maybe I’m overreacting.
When the players return to the hotel, it’s only eight p.m. I can’t wait to show Chase the purchases I’ve made with Veena’s costume budget.
I hope he doesn’t hate them all on sight.
Zoe:Tell me when the coast is clear so I can come upstairs.
Chase:Why aren’t you here already? Checking out the room service menu now.
Of course he is.
Five minutes later, I ride the elevator up to the tenth floor. When the doors part, I step out and look in both directions.
Phew. No hockey players.
I start down the long hallway, but then a door opens and DeLuca steps out. “Hey, Zoe! What’s shaking?”
“I’m…”A terrible liar.“Looking for the ice machine?”
He smirks. Then he looks me up and down, taking in my gym bag. “That so? Where’s your ice bucket?”
“Um… I don’t need ice yet, but I might later.”
He just laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “Tell Chase he owes me fifty bucks from poker night, okay?”
