Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“You’ll know when I know.” I glare at him. “You think if I knew the answer, I wouldn’t give it to my team?” He doesn’t say anything. “The other team played a great game. They had solid sticks on the ice tonight. They took the shots and, unfortunately, it didn’t go the way we wanted. No one goes out on the ice and says tonight I’m going to lose.” I shrug. “At least no one on my team.”
“There has been some talk about a break in communication.” I look over at the veteran reporter who has had it out for me since day one. “On and off the ice.”
“Yeah.” I motion with my chin. “Who said this?” I ask him and he gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Come on, Timothy, if you are going to ask a question like that, are you going to say who said it or is this you speculating?”
“I’ve heard it from a couple of people,” he replies, goading me, and I know I shouldn’t fucking bite.
"Yeah? I’d like to meet these people.” All the other reporters look around. “If you are going to stand here in front of me and expect me to throw any of my players under the bus and point fingers, I’m going to tell you that you are wasting your fucking time, Timothy. So take that for communication,” I snap.
I turn and head into the locker room. “I want to say good game out there,” I tell the room as they are getting undressed and tossing their gear in the bags in front of them, “but not one of you are going to think it’s true. We came back and showed a little bit more fight. We just have to remember that it’s three periods out there and not just one.”
I turn and head out while the reporters head in to talk to a couple of guys. An hour and a half later, we are gearing up to head to the plane. No one says much on the flight and even I don’t watch the fucking replays. We land back in LA at 1:00 a.m. local time and everyone silently makes their way to their own vehicles.
I get home and all the lights are off. The house is dead as I wheel my luggage and my carry-on to my room. I toss my shit on the floor of my closet before sliding into bed. Setting my alarm for eight, even though it’s an off day tomorrow, I want to head into the office.
I wake up the next morning, opting to not even check my phone before getting dressed in my track suit and then grabbing a coffee before leaving. I’m at my desk when I open up the iPad and read the sports headline.
“LA Warriors’ Cracks Keep Widening with New Coach.”
I shake my head as I read the piece written by Timothy, making it clear my age is a disadvantage for the game since apparently I’m too young to actually do this job right.
My phone vibrates on my desk, and I look down to see Ken has sent me a message.
Ken:
Meeting today in your office at noon. Brad will be phoning in.
“Great,” I mutter, “another meeting.” Before we left on the road trip, they made it clear that all eyes were on me. There was no room for mistakes and now that we just lost three games in a row, I can bet those eyes are getting bigger and bigger.
I scroll through the text messages I didn’t have the energy to look at yesterday and see father and Victoria texted me last night. I know I shouldn’t text her. My life is slowly becoming a disaster, and the last thing I should be doing is getting involved with anyone, especially my player’s sister.
Dad:
You can’t win them all.
I look at the words trying to tell myself the same thing.
Me:
Easier said than done.
I reply then read the one from Victoria.
Victoria:
Thanks for the number. I spoke with Jill and she is on board with it.
My brain knows I shouldn’t respond. My brain is well aware. But something, and I don’t know what that something is, has me texting her back.
Me:
You’re welcome. Want to come over to my place tonight for dinner?
I press send and then wonder if I should just tell her I was texting the wrong person. But then it’s going to look as if I was texting someone else and that would be very fucking uncool.
Victoria:
I was going to have dinner at Buckingham Palace, but my flight got cancelled, so I guess I’m free.
I can’t help the laughter that comes out of me.
Me:
Here is my address, come any time after five thirty.
Victoria:
I shall Zillow this right now and see where you live.
Me:
I don’t even know what that means.
Victoria:
Then it’s a good thing you have me to guide you. I’ll show you tonight.