Page 87 of Waiting Game

“You fuckwit, Lewis,” McIsaac snipes.

Even Liam’s pissed. “You’re picking up the fucking tab for the next month, dipshit.” Which is saying something because Liam doesn’t even go out with the team!

The promise of free drinks—we rich fucks love a freebie—has a cheer swarming around the crowd. Greco, who’ll have it worst during bag skating thanks to all his equipment weighing a ton, even skates over to Lewis and mutters, “You beat the shit out of Raimond, dude. You don’t have to buy me a drink.”

That’s when I get what Liam’s doing.

From Bradley’s dour expression, he was hoping to stir discord between the players.

Asshole.

Lewis swipes a hand over his bright red face—suicide drills, scrimmage, and now bag skating means the fucker’s probably not walking without wincing for the next forty-eight hours. “I’m sorry, guys,” he calls out to the team.

That earns him some grumbles, but most of us take up our positions on the ice when a dissatisfied Coach blows his whistle.

Twenty minutes later, Bradley dismisses us, but only when Lewis is puking from exertion.

The jerk-off still isn’t done with his punishment—he keeps Lewis back foranotherscolding while the rest of us head to the locker room.

That’s when Liam grates out, “You picked up on his game?”

“Couldn’t miss it. Why does he want to fuck with team morale?”

Liam shrugs. “He’s an asshole. Was all last season and he’s looking set to suck this one too. Wait until Gracie finds out he brought back bag skating. She won’t approve.”

Stripping down at my cubby, I heave a tired chuckle. “Yeah, they’re fucking exhausting.”

“She’s already not happy with him.”

We head for the showers. “Why?”

“The plays Bradley came up with during the off-season. She thinks he’s going to lead us down the same road he did before.”

“Relying on shoot-outs to win?” I tack on over the running water as I set the shower to working.

“Yup. She encouraged him to trade a few defenders and that’s working even though they’re not as cohesive as she’d like, but the next step is the plays.

“Trying to fuck with the team spirit is going to put him even higher on her shit list and, frankly, I didn’t know that was even possible until today.”

“Why do I get the feeling she’s going to be more involved than most GMs?”

Liam snorts. “It’s almost like you know her.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m in the whirlpool, trying to work out some of the kinks around my knee. I fucked it up a couple seasons ago and that combo of suicide drills and bag skating was a real bitch on it.

One massage later and fifty pages of my book devoured, I’m as good to go as I can be. Even better when, dressed and on my way out, Liam hurls a banana at me.

Snagging it in midair, I ask, “What’s the game plan for today?”

“Don’t know.”

Together, we leave the locker room.

“Why don’t you?”

“Because Gracie’s interviewing new PAs for me and until that happens, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Interview them yourself, you big fucking baby.”

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