Page 35 of On the Line
“I’m going to be honest with you,” I tell him, because he’s two contracts into this career and he needs to hear it. “If you want to play for the Rebels, you’re going to have to play better than you’ve been playing. When Colorado signed you, you’d had a great three years with Vancouver. But they’re paying you based on how you were playing in Vancouver, and I don’t know what’s changed, but you’re not consistently playing like you used to.”
Drew looks down at his empty plate and back up at me. “I’m just not vibing with this team.”
“You’re notvibingwith them? What are you, sixteen?”
What happened to good old-fashioned hard work? Put your head down and do your fucking job. It’s not about how you “feel,” it’s about how you play.
“I got off to a rocky start with one of the guys,” Drew says, then proceeds to tell me a little about the situation, where he pissed off a much more established and respected player. No two ways about it, Drew fucked up and it sounds like it soured the whole team on him.
“It happens. So apologize,” I say. “Or go out there and play like you used to play andearntheir respect. But right now Colorado’s spending a lot of money on you and you aren’t delivering consistently. No way Boston is going to make you an offer unless you show them that you’re still the player they’ve seen in the past.”
Drew bites his lower lip in frustration, and his nostrils flare. “If I do turn it around this season, what are the chances you can get me to Boston?”
“They’d have to need another center. It looks like there’s a chance Piatza might retire at the end of this season, which is why I thought this trade had a chance, but he hasn’t announced anything yet. Why are you so anxious to get to Boston?”
“Not ready to talk about that. But if there’s an opportunity, keep me posted.”
“I will,” I tell him as the waiter approaches to clear the table. I hand him my credit card even though he hasn’t brought the bill, because now that I’ve straightened things out with Drew, I need to figure out what the hell happened with Lauren earlier. It’s close to 11:00 p.m. in Boston and I still haven’t heard back from her.
As soon as Drew and I part ways, I text Lauren.
Jameson
Everything okay? You said you’d call back and you haven’t, so I just want to make sure.
Her response comes through about fifteen minutes later, when I’m in the elevator on the way up to my hotel room.
Lauren
Yeah, sorry about that. Quick trip to urgent care because Ivy got a bit too excited with the pans, and she dropped one on Iris’s hand.
Jameson
Is Iris okay?
Lauren
Yeah, her hand’s just bruised, nothing is broken. I’m more shook up about it than either of the girls. I guess that’s what I get for talking on the phone and not paying closer attention to what they were doing.
I tap on her name at the top of our chat and hit the screen to call her, except I accidentally video call her instead. Or maybe it was a subconscious choice because I want to see her and make sure she’s doing okay.
“Hey.” She’s lying on her side, her head on the pillow, and everything around her is black except for her face, which is lit up by the light of her phone screen. Her eyes are swollen and her face is red and wet.
“Hey. I didn’t mean to make this a video call ... but I’m glad I did.”
“Why?” She lets out a laugh that’s practically a snort. “You wanted to see me looking like this?”
“I wanted to make sure you know this isn’t your fault. Accidents happen.” I shrug off my jacket and pull on the knot at my throat to loosen my tie.
She wipes the sleeve of her sweatshirt across her face, clearing away some of the tears. “How could I not blame myself? If I wasn’t so distracted talking to you, maybe Iris wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
“Or maybe she would have. You could have been sitting right there next to them, and Ivy still could have picked up that pan and dropped it on Iris’s hand. Right?”
She heaves out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I guess.”
“So, what are you really this upset about?”
She looks at the phone screen—at me—with the stunned look of someone who’s been caught in a trap. Then she looks away. “It’s just been one of those nights.”
