Page 69 of The Hat Trick

I scowl at my phone. I don’t like that he’s questioning me about this.

Matt: Maybe because I want to see her.

Brent: You? On New Year’s Eve?

I feel his judgmental tone through the phone, and I don’t like it at all.

Matt: Yes, why is that so bad? Are you going to be with her tonight or not?

Brent: How about you ask her, instead of me. Maybe she doesn’t even want to see you.

I groan in annoyance. It should just be a yes or no answer, and he’s making it harder than it needs to be.

Matt: Forget it.

I toss my phone onto my couch and stomp off to my gym to work out because I need to get this anger out somehow. Since I don’t have a game or even practice today there’s no way for me to let it out on the ice. I know this is only the start of the shit that’s going to piss me off today.

* * *

Arrivingat my dad’s party,I want to leave as soon as I step inside. The level of snotty makes me want to gag. The old guys in suits with their much younger mistresses hanging on their arms are everywhere.

I make a beeline for the open bar, ordering a double scotch and drinking most of it in a single gulp. The voice that calls out behind me has me finishing the drink quickly, then demanding another one.

“Son,” his fake smile makes me want to punch him in the face. “Please meet some clients, this is Jonah and William.”

“So nice to meet you, you’re having a great season,” one of the guys says. I didn’t look to see who was Jonah and who was William. Plus, I don’t give a shit.

“Thanks, the team is doing great.”

“Matthew here is on track for a record-breaking season, aren’t you, Son?” my dad says like he actually knows. He probably heard some sportscasters say something like that because I know he didn’t learn that information on his own.

“Yeah, I’m going for the team record of minutes in the penalty box this season,” I say with a smile. Purely because I know it’s going to piss him off.

“You’ve had some good fights so far that’s for sure,” the other guy chuckles, clapping his hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah, you know, I really like to just picture someone I really can’t stand and just let it all go.”

“Matthew is one of Denver’s top players,” my dad tries to brag.

“On and off the ice, you know what I mean, don’t you, man?” I nudge the guy closest to me before taking another large gulp of my drink.

He chuckles, and my dad grips my bicep, hard. “Excuse us gentlemen, I want to ask Matthew something in private if you don’t mind.” With his hard grip on my arm, he pulls me along. Despite being much older than me, and being in worse shape than I am, he pulls me out of the main room and away from the crowd.

I down my drink quickly, preparing for whatever he’s going to try to throw at me right now. It won’t be as bad as it normally would since his house is full of people.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps as soon as we are away from the crowd.

“Just being myself, Pops, isn’t that what you want?”

“No, I want my son to act like the professional he is, and not some amateur douchebag.”

I can’t hold back the loud laugh I let out. “Jokes on you, Iama professional, and a fucking asshole.”

“Yes, you are, but I’ve seen you hold it together and that’s what I expect of you.”

“And I expect you to not treat me like a fucking show pony, but I guess we both don’t get what we want.”

“You’re such an ungrateful little shit. You always have been,” he snaps, and I just laugh. The two drinks I’ve already had in such a short amount of time have me feeling good, not even close to being drunk. Just good enough to not deck my dad in the face.

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