“Her name is Tiffy Priestner, and she is Roland Priestner’s daughter.”
“Well, I didn’t know that at the time,” I argue. “She grabbed my junk and literally led me down the hallway by the dick. I was…”
I pause, and Coach Belford arches an extremely bushy eyebrow. “You were what?”
My eyes drop to the floor, and I suddenly feel vulnerable. “I was trying to move on for the first time in months. Since the…thinglast year.”
Coach’s mouth turns down, and I see the pity in his eyes at my mention of thething. He sighs and runs a hand over his crew cut.
“It’s been a helluva year for you, Reno, so that makes this situation that much harder. I wish there was something I could do, but this came from the top.”
I feel a sudden stinging on the insides of my eyelids, like someone squirted pepper juice in my eyes. “I’ve been with the Raptors my entire career. This is my team.” My molars clamp down on the inside of my cheek before I ask the next question. “Where are they sending me?”
Detroit would be okay. They’re big hockey fans up there. Or maybe somewhere in the Northeast. Or Canada. Hockey is huge in Canada, so thatwouldn’t be bad.
His answer was none of those.
“Dallas.”
“Fuuuck,” I groan, throwing my head back and immediately having to right myself when the chair attempts to tip over backward. “I don’t want to go to Dallas, Coach.”
Would I be required to wear cowboy boots? Learn to ride a horse?
“I know,” he sighed, “and I really hate to lose you, even though you can be a pain in my ass. You’re a damn good player, Reno Swain.”
He sounds so sincere, and my entire face compresses. Eyes closed. Lips clamped shut. Cheeks sucked in to control my emotions.
Finally, I open my eyes. “Who is thefresh bloodI’m being traded for?” Even I can hear the bitterness dripping from each syllable.
“You’re being traded for a first round draft pick.”
My eyes bulge out so far I’m concerned I may go blind from the pressure. “I’m being traded for a goddamn rookie?”
Belford nods. “Mr. Priestner wants to get Fredrickson Mitchell. He was the best college defenseman in the country this past year.” My coach—er,formercoach, I guess—didn’t look thrilled to be trading someone with over a decade of experience on the ice for a newbie in the pros.
I refrain from saying that Mitchell is an overrated, cocky little son of a bitch. I have to admit he is a good player. A goodcollegeplayer, though there’s a huge difference between that level and the NHL. Mitchell has been playing against good players, but every time he steps on the ice from now on, he’ll be playing against the best of the best. Men who are bigger, stronger, faster, and infinitely more determined to earn their exorbitant paychecks.
Placing my elbows on my knees, I cram my fingers into my curly, dark hair and stare at my size fifteen tennis shoes. My life was already a shit cake, and Coach just topped it with a drizzle of more poop.
My chest hurts, but I force myself back upright after a minute of silence, resting my palms on my knees. “Is this final? Is there anything I can do?”
The apologetic look on Belford’s face gives me the answer, but he speaks it aloud anyway. “I’m sorry, but it’s final.”
The realization sinks in with a harsh thud.
The Raptors don’t want me.Shedoesn’t want me.
No one wants me.
Chapter 2
“I love his penis” and other brilliant prose I’ve written.
Iglanceoverthesurface of my desk, assuring I have everything so I won’t have to get up for a while. Laptop, check. Glass of Dr Pepper with the little pellet ice, check. Bowl of Starburst candies… the cherry ones only, check. Notebook and pen, checkity check.
Yep, that oughta do it.
Wiggling my butt in my desk chair, I link my fingers and stretch them out in front of me.I’m ready. I’m ready.
