Page 36 of Wrong Pucking Player

“I’ll get it,” I assure him. “Just got to call Mr. Champion real quick.”

“Sure,” Dad encourages. “Tell him I approve whatever you have in mind.”

“Still supportive as ever, even though I could be plotting murder.”

He literally shrugs—something I’d actually do.

“As long as I have enough money for bail and to pay for a decent lawyer, it shouldn’t be hard to support my eldest son in getting justice,” he voices but meets my gaze once more. “But don’t do that. Your mother would be disappointed.”

“Yeah fucking right,” I huff and can’t move faster.

Let’s NOT bring that woman up right now.

“Be right back.”

“Alright,” Dad replies just as the sound of cheers from the television drowns out the living room. He’s landed on the hockey channel.

Not surprised.

With my phone in my grasp, I find the number and listen to the three rings that follow before the familiar voice comes on the other end.

“Mr. Champion speaking.”

“Good evening, Mr. Champion. It’s Wyatt Cyrus, the new equipment manager. Do you have a minute to discuss something of importance?”

Time to ensure Auntie Dearest doesn’t get a fucking dime.

BACK TO THE REALITY OF AN ORPHAN GIRL

~MACKENZIE~

“Of course, the elevator is broken.”

I can’t even feign my shock at the obvious malfunction in this damn building.

Government housing. The biggest dumpster of fuckery when you’re stuck in a small ass town that the government enjoys turning a blind eye to.

Coming to this place always reminds me of how everyone says, ‘I don’t belong here.’ Whether it’s because I look “Caucasian”or the various excuses that apparently throw me in a whole different tax bracket based on appearance.

Girls with blonde hair and blue eyes are supposed to be marrying billionaires and being pampered like some sort of Cinderella who’s just claimed her glass slipper.

My glass slippers clearly broke before I could even get a chance to slip my feet into the pair of blessed luxury.

I don’t bother jumping into the stereotypes and racism that revolve around Strattonville. They’re a small town that really hasn’t “awakened” out of their old ways. The fact we now have social media access is a big improvement, but so many of the residents who remain are fighting with grit teeth to try to preserve what has yet to change in this mini-society.

Or else we’ll be left behind while the rest of the world moves forward.

With this new project they want to launch in Strattonville, they really won’t have much of a choice but to adapt to the new changes coming their way.

Including being less oppressive, judgmental, complete haters for the LGBTQ community and anything that doesn’t follow the exact literature of the Bible.

With Strattonville being a town that is hardcore hockey fans, I can see why they’re willing to accommodate this new initiative that revolves around creating not one but two solid hockey teams of rising hockey stars who were born and resided in the heart of this little town. I haven’t been able to get much more info about it, but it’s clear whatever this is may really blow up to a global level.

Somehow my internship lands me right in-between.

Tonight, I’m going to celebrate with Mikayla at Jack’s Bar. Not only am I excited about it, I’m also rather grateful all this good news is coming around this time of year. With Mikayla’s mother’s passing anniversary approaching, I’m sure she needs all the distractions and support I can give her as her best friend.

Though I have to try not to get her Mary-had-a-little-lamb drunk before she tries to dye her pussy hair red.

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