CHAPTER 1
CHARLIE
The shrill ringing of my phone jolts me awake, and I instantly regret opening my eyes. The morning light pierces through the curtains like daggers, stabbing into my throbbing skull. Groaning, I fumble around on the nightstand for the source of the sound, finally managing to press the phone against my ear.
“Charlie?” Xavier’s voice booms through the phone. “We need to talk.”
“Jesus, Xav,” I mumble, squinting at the clock on the wall. “It’s Sunday morning. What could you possibly want?”
“Turn on the TV. Now.”
Muttering curses under my breath, I stumble out of bed, clutching my pounding head. My bedroom seems to spin around me as I shuffle toward the door, the smell of stale beer and sweat clinging to my skin like a second layer of clothing.
“Fine, but this better be important,” I grumble, making my way down the grand staircase.
The luxurious house that once felt like a dream now feels suffocating as I navigate the maze of rooms, each step amplifying the pain in my head.
“Trust me, it is,” Xavier replies, his tone ice-cold.
My stomach churns, and suddenly I feel much more awake. My manager is usually a pretty easy-going guy, so if he’s this serious then something is up.
Reaching the kitchen, I turn on the television that’s mounted on the wall. My heart drops into my stomach as I see my picture on the screen. A smiling pic of me in my Thunderhawks jersey.
The screen flashes to a blurry cellphone video taken in a bar, showing me and the dude from last night throwing fists.
“It’s not the first time Charlie Elwood has been in a public fight,” the news anchor is saying. “And many suspect it won’t be the last.”
My stomach drops. Shit.
“Jesus Christ, Charlie,” Xavier hisses into the phone. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Look, I can explain—” I start, but Xavier cuts me off.
“Save it. You’ve really screwed up this time.”
“Listen, Xav.” I turn on the coffee pot and wince at the sound of the machine grinding the beans. “The guy at the bar was talking shit about the Thunderhawks. He deserved it.”
“Is that your excuse?” he snaps. “You have a career most people can only dream of, Charlie, and you’re treating it like trash.”
“Come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” I argue, trying to downplay the severity of the situation.
“Really? You think getting into a drunken brawl is ‘not that big of a deal’? Think about your teammates, Charlie. Your actions reflect on them too.”
“Xavier, it wasn’t my fault! The guy got in my face, talking all that crap about the Thunderhawks. I just… I just handled it.” The fire of anger and frustration builds inside me.
“Handled it? By throwing punches?” Xavier sighs, exasperated. “Charlie, I’ve been trying to help you get your life together, but as your manager, there’s only so much I can do. This is on you.”
He’s right, and I hate him for it. I stare at my reflection in the chrome surface of the coffee pot, my eyes bloodshot and hollow, and the weight of my mistakes bearing down on me. I have to fix this. Somehow. But where do I even begin?
“I’ll issue a public apology.” My heart races in my chest as I pour myself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma doing little to ease my nerves.
Again, Xavier sighs. “That won’t be enough this time.”
“Sure it will.”
“Charlie, I’ve got some bad news,” Xavier says solemnly. “The Thunderhawks have had enough. They don’t want such a risk on their team. Your contract is being cut short. You’re off the team, effective immediately.”
“Wait, what?!” I sputter, nearly dropping my coffee cup. The room spins around me, and I grip the counter for support. Being cut from the team is my worst nightmare, and now it’s come true. “You can’t be serious!”