Page 27 of Thrown for a Loop
He hands it over. “You’re very entertaining, Zoe.”
My eyes widen, because I haven’t even given him my credit cardyet. “Do we know each other?” This guy doesn’t look like an ice skating groupie, but I guess you never know.
“There was a news piece about you today,” he says, polishing a wineglass. “First woman to ever get a coaching contract with the Legends.”
“Oh.Really?”
He grins. “You don’t have to take my word for it. Ask Uncle Google.”
So I pull out my phone and search for my own name.
You’d think that after a big career in skating, with all the photos and the profiles written about me, a few new headlines about my job wouldn’t faze me. But I’m trying to change the trajectory of my life, and this moment feels big to me. All positive reinforcement is welcome.
The items I find about me are just a couple of paragraphs long, but they’re everywhere, including on the ESPN website.
The Legends have a new skating coach. Figure skater Zoe Carson, who won a silver medal in Pyeongchang, joins the team part-time behind the bench. She’s the first female on the Legends coaching staff.
To date, no NHL team has hired a full-time female coach, but now it’s only a matter of time…
Only a matter of time!Heck yes. I’d love to break that record almost as much as I really need a full-time job.
The bartender hands me my slip to sign. Then he gives me a flirty smile. “You know, that yappy guy was right about one thing. Thisisa hockey bar. The players come in here some nights, just like he said.”
“That’s good intel, thank you. I’m having some trouble getting a few of them to work with me. Maybe if I ply them with liquor…”
He laughs. “Let me know what I can do to help.”
“Actually…” This probably won’t work. But I’m desperate. I return his flirty smile. “Okay, real talk. If you see Chase Merritt in here, will you tip me off? I really want to fix that guy’s stride, but he’s been kind of elusive.”
His smile fades, and he tips his head from side to side, like he’s thinking it over. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that. But give me your number, and I’ll consider it. I mean—I could always bring it up and encourage him to call you.”
“Okay, sure,” I say, because it’s not like I can mount a good argument against his principles. I write my name and number down on a coaster and slide it his way.
He takes it, tapping it thoughtfully on the bar. “On the other hand, if you can figure out what’s going wrong with him, we’d all appreciate it. Seems like such a crime to see a top athlete playing so badly.”
“Bro.You want me to work some magic, but you won’t put any skin in the game?”
He laughs. “That’s a fair point. I’ll mull it over.”
“You do that,” I say, sliding off the stool. “Thanks for the beer.”
“My pleasure. See you around, Zoe. Stop in anytime.”
If this job lasts more than a couple of months, I will. But for now, I head home to my crappy little apartment on the corner of Eighth Avenue and Twenty-First.
Three hours later I’m asleep on my mattress on the floor when my phone rings.
My apartment is still so new to me that I’m confused when I open my eyes. Groggy, I pick up the phone to find an unfamiliar 212 number. I answer because I’m too sleepy to figure out if that’s a good idea. “Hello?”
“Hi, Zoe, this is Harp, the bartender down at Highlights. We met earlier tonight.”
My sluggish brain tries to make sense of that. “Okay, yes?”
He chuckles awkwardly. “Well, I know it’s late. And you wanted me to tell you when Chase Merritt was here. So this is sort of that call, but sort of not.”
The mention of Chase wakes me completely. I sit up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s here, but he’s wasted. I’ve never seen him like this. It’s almost last call, and he’s refusing to leave. I understand that this isn’t your problem, but I don’t know anyone else who works for the Legends, and I don’t really want to call the cops. Our guy doesn’t need any more trouble tonight, yeah?”
