Page 163 of Loving Ladybug: Part One
He leaned in. “We’re honoring her this year. Trying to decide if we take her number out of rotation or not.”
“Wow, that is quite the honor,” I replied. PHL goalies seldom wore the number 0 anymore, mostly wearing 1, 30, and 31. However, EBUGs were always 00. Sometimes female or beta goalies choose 0 as a token of respect. I did. So did Molly of the Belugas. before she came out as an omega, she’d hid as a beta.
“You’re an accounting major and this is your last year, right? Do you need an internship?” he added.
“I’m going to be doing it with the rink accounting department.” Not really forensic accounting, but my advisor was letting it count, which was nice. Not to mention, I got paidandclass credit.
“I’ll pay you more,” he added.
I laughed. “You can’t. Even a paid internship with you is against the NACA rules. It’s why you give us EBUGs coupons forthe food court and subway codes when we’re on duty, instead of per diem. We don’t even get paid if we play, we just get to keep the jersey.”
“Oh.” His look grew thoughtful. “Yet, you can work at the rink and do Squire camp? Curious since I didn’t play collegiate athletics. I did theater.”
“The rink is its own entity and is classified as an entertainment facility, not a professional sports team, so there’s no issue with me working there. The foundation running the camp is also a separate entity and classified as a non-profit,” I replied.
It was a little weird and complicated, but I always did my duediligence. I didn’t want to lose my collegiate athlete standing, because I accidentally violated a rule.
“I see. Well–”
“Constantine, where are you? Do you know what those fuckers did–” Mr. Longfellow came down the hallway and stopped abrupt. The alpha GM was older and, as usual, wore a nice suit. He gave me a puzzled look, but his alpha scent was pure panic. “Excuse me, but I need Constantine.”
Hopefully nothing was too wrong.
“Of course. Have a great day, Mr. Longfellow. You, too, Constantine.” With a wave, I headed down to the rink staff locker room, stowed my things, and put my uniform on. Time to go to work.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Clark
“This is delicious,” Carlos said as he twirled more pasta around his fork. “Are you sure we’re allowed to eat this?”
“Yes. She labeled the container for us specifically,” I replied, as Carlos, Dimitri, and I ate pasta with Gwen’s homemade sauce, along with the garlic bread and salad they’d brought.
We sat around my little dining table, which now had flowers in a vintage glass jar on it. I think the flowers may have come from the same place the fresh herbs in the fridge came from.
“Her sauce is so good. Sometimes she trades my mom containers of it for tamales.” Carlos grabbed another piece of bread. “Did Gwen take everything from the dining hall again?”
“Yeah, she’s been bringing home baggies of vegetables all week, then made it last night in the slow-cooker.” I wasn’t exactly sure why she needed homemade pasta sauce, a bottle of Chianti, and necklaces painstakingly made from noodles.
I also knew better than to press for details after she waved it off asa goalie thing.
“Why don’t you just buy her ingredients?” Dimitri looked puzzled as he took a bite of salad.
“Gwen likes to contribute.” I didn’t have a problem with it. She didn’t take too much at once and always used what she took.
She was so inventive, like Ma. I enjoyed her being around. Right now, it was a bit of a lull for me. Soon enough, training camp and pre-season would start and it would get busy.
Another reason for Gwen to stay here. Then I could see her at night and in the morning. Already she was busy with class, practice, and work at the rink. It had stopped my heart when she mentioned moving out, and I was overjoyed when she stayed. I didn’t care about bills or any of that.
All I cared about was her.
Maybe I could talk her out of working as many shifts at the rink when she got her scholarship disbursement. I understood her not wanting to quit entirely, given she both enjoyed it and her privileges, but I wanted her to have time for what was important–like hockey and homework.
My phone buzzed. It wasn’t Gwen who was working, but Tenzin. He’d sent a ridiculous picture of him and Cooter with a giant fish. I missed him. He’d be back soon.
Our phones lit up all at once, with Anders blowing up the group chat.
Anders
