Page 13 of Breaking the Ice

“No,” he replies, still not opening his eyes. “Because it's pointless. That's why.” He listens to the voice on the other end for a moment, then shakes his head and lifts his eyelids. “You know what, let's talk another time. I've got something to do.” With those words, he runs a hand through his black hair, now graying at the temples, with a sigh. The pained expression on his face tightens my chest. Worried, I step into the room. When Dad spots me, he suddenly turns pale. “I have to go, we'll talk later,” he says, ending the call. “Emma, sweetheart, you're finally awake,” his voice sounds unusually thin, as if he has a lump in his throat. “I was beginning to think you'd sleep through the whole day.”

“Who was that on the phone?” I ask.

“Nobody important.”

“That sounded different. What's the matter, Dad?”

“Oh, it's really unimportant. It was just... Mike, you know, the janitor from my massage practice in Aberdeen.”

“And what did he want?” With my arms crossed, I give him a suspicious look. I didn't get the feeling that he was talking to Mike. As far as I know, they hardly know each other.

“It was about a burst pipe in the practice. The toilet had a leak, and Mike took care of it. But instead of fixing it, he damaged the drainage pipe. He said he'd sort it out. But I mean, a real plumber should look at it, not a janitor.” He shrugs. “I just don't want to come back to a place that stinks of sewage after the season. You understand, right?”

“I can understand, yes.” My answer brings a smile to his lips.

“Good. And now, about you. I put your pizza...” The ringing of his phone interrupts him. For a split second, I see an angry expression flash across his face. Then he recognizes who's calling and smiles. “Just a moment, okay?” he says, turning to me, and answers the call. “Hey, Bill, what's up?” While I walk to the fridge to get some water, Dad goes from the kitchen to the living room to take the call. He seems more at ease now, not as downcast.

“Is everything okay?” I inquire as I gulp down water, before taking a large bite of my Diavolo pizza, covered with a generous amount of barbecue sauce.

“How can you eat that artificial stuff?” he dodges, gesturing toward the bottle.

“It tastes good,” I mumble, in between mouthfuls. Plus, it's spicy, and I'm into that. Growing up with a Thai mother, I'm used to spicy food. “What did Bill want?” I ask as soon as I've swallowed.

“He convinced me to go have a drink with him. You know, to celebrate the Devils' win today. And since they don't have practice tomorrow and we're off, I figured I'd say yes.” Why is he talking so fast? In fact, he's been acting strange since I woke up. “It's not a problem if I go out, is it?” Okay, now it's official, he's acting weird.

“Of course not. Why would it bother me?”

“I don't know... because, well, because you'd be here alone.” He looks at me apologetically.

“Dad, I'm an adult and perfectly capable of handling myself. You don't need to worry about me.” Plus, I think to myself, Durand is waiting for me at the Brillant. I wasn't sure whether to go there or not. But now that even my dad is going out, even though he usually stays at home all year, it's like a sign. “Besides,” I continue, “I was planning to meet up with the others later.”

“The others? You mean the players?”

Wow, why is he suddenly so serious? Dad's mood has shifted from neutral to alarmed in the blink of an eye. His voice has dropped by an octave, and a worried expression has taken over his eyes.

“Of course, the players. Who else would I meet up with? I don't really know anyone else here.”

“Did you hear what they did to our predecessor, Patrick?”

“What they did to him? That sounds like they forced him or something.” I can hardly believe they forced Patrick into drinking. As far as I know, he's thirty. At that age, you should know your limits.

“Maybe, but you're only twenty-one.” Wait, what? Is he implying that just because I'm young, I don't know when to stop? I raise my brows in disbelief, prompting him to backtrack. He raises his hands. “I'm not saying you're not responsible. I'm just thinking, for a pretty girl like you, it's dangerous to hang out with the players.”

“I was planning on going out anyway. And rather than wandering around Portland's nightlife all alone, it's smarter for me to be with the guys.” My father doesn't respond to that, just grumbles something incomprehensible to himself. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Eat your pizza before it gets cold.” With two steps, he's at my table, planting a kiss on my forehead. “I won't be gone long. Definitely take your phone with you, and call if you need anything.”

“I will,” I promise, “and now go and have a nice evening with Bill.”

“Got it.” Dad grabs his faux-leather jacket hanging over the back of his chair and slips it on. It looks great on him, making him appear years younger. Overall, with his brown eyes framed by thick brows, the five o'clock shadow, and his full head of hair, he's a good-looking man. “Oh, before I forget,” he says, pulling the car keys from his pants pocket, “you can use the car; I'll take a taxi.” Now I can't help but chuckle. Dad only lets me have the car for one reason: he wants me to avoid drinking. Although I have no intention of driving, I'll take a taxi like him. If I'm going out, I want to enjoy something alcoholic. I spare him this info and instead wish him a good evening.

As the apartment door closes behind my father, I stand up and head to my room. While I rummage through the closet for a suitable outfit for the Brillant, I call my friend Riley. Let's see what's new with her and her quarterback, Cole.

8

Caleb

“Hey, check out this pussy squeezer,” Toby shouts over the noise of the disco. His finger blatantly points at a blonde passing beneath our VIP area. She's wearing a glittery top and tight jeans, revealing the outline of her labia.

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