Page 24 of The Ex Puck Bunny
At first, the venom in her voice about hockey players rubbed me the wrong way because it was totally uncalled for, but I cannot imagine what she’s been through. However, I want to prove her wrong, that I’m nothing like her ex.
“Federer,” a deep voice calls.
Pulled from my thoughts, I lift my head. Tom Badaszek, a large man in his fifties, fills the doorway to his office.
His gaze doesn’t waver from me as if he’s watching my every move. I feel like I’m heading into an examination room or an interrogation room. Maybe both.
He closes the door firmly behind me.
Or this might be my execution.
“Federer, take a seat.” Badaszek lowers into his chair. Elbows resting on his oak desk, he looks at me carefully.
“As you know, one of our best defensemen, Ted Powell, is retiring at the end of this season. That means he’s going to play this thing out and leave a winner.”
I nod, understanding the gist.
“But that does not mean that you’re going to warm the bench. We’re going to bring Federer back and he’s going to be better than ever.”
I mask my surprise. “Yes, sir.” Maybe Derek was right and I will get game time after all.
He shakes his head. “Powell has achieved athletic excellence. The only time he’s taken off throughout his career was after a knee injury. You vanished from the public eye. But that just adds to the intrigue,” he says, almost as an afterthought.
I recall Ted’s prescribed downtime and his joining a charity team. I also take the comment to point toward my recent “downtime,” but what does he mean about intrigue?
“You’ll be his shadow without him knowing you’re there. You are going to study his every move, gauge his reactions, think like him, move like him, perform like him.”
I nod again, feeling a little bit like a puppet or a mime because up until now, I’ve developed my own strengths and skills—figured that’s what Badaszek wanted by taking me onto the team.
His eyebrow lifts sharply. “Pay attention on and off the ice. I train boys to become men. You could stand to learn a thing or two.”
The furrow in my brow deepens. I want him to explain, but I have a strong suspicion I won’t like what I hear.
“This is a trial period. You and I have to build trust.”
“With all due respect, sir, I haven’t done anything to demonstrate that you can’t trust me.”
“That maverick move could’ve gotten you a permanent vacation from the NHL.”
Lengthening my spine, I could play this two ways. Nod andyes sirBadaszek until he dismisses me or show him who I am.
“A man named Ed Rice once told me that keeping my moral character clean and being able to sleep at night is more important than getting to the top. He said never compromise what I know to be right.”
“And you’re telling me this because?—?”
“Because you haven’t asked me why I was suspended . . .” Despite his comment about my maverick move, depending on your point of view, what I did was pretty radical.
“I read the report.”
“That’s not why I was suspended, sir.”
He narrows his eyes and leans back in his chair. “Would you like to tell me your side of the story?”
“It’s not my side. It’s the truth. But I’ll tell you when I know I can trust you.”
His eyebrows shoot upward.
“I don’t say this to be insolent, but because I’m honest, sir.”
