Page 34 of Puck Happens

The guys all oohed and aahed. A couple of them high-fived O’Rourke. “See what happens when you run your mouth off, Novek?” Dillon said.

“Captain?” I said, trying not to smile. “You were three seconds behind Novek.”

Dillon stopped laughing. “Well…it’s practice. I’m conserving energy.”

“You know what we call that in figure skating?” I asked. “Slacking off.”

The team whooped and I smiled.

“Let’s go,” I said, and put my whistle back in my mouth. “No more…slacking off.”

Dillon grimaced. “Conserving energy.”

“Right, conserving energy,” I repeated.

Still smiling, I blew my whistle.

The men came huffing to a stop in front of me when they were done. “So?” O’Rourke asked. “Who was fastest?”

“We all know who was fastest!” Novek said, his chest heaving from the exertion.

“Do we?” I asked him, smiling a little. And whew, he did not like that. “Because it was Dillon.”

Everyone applauded but Novek… and Ron. But Ron did not give the impression of a guy who clapped.

“Good work today guys,” I said. “See you back here tomorrow.”

“See you Coach,” a few of them said back, and I took it as a win.

* * *

Later That Afternoon

Dillon

Practice ended at two.

PT ended at three.

Some of the guys ate a late lunch in the cafeteria. They didn’t leave until four.

I waited all of them out until it was just my Bronco, coach’s BMW and Olivia Tylor-Branch’s POS in the parking lot.

If she was trying to prove she was a hard worker, mission accomplished. I’d also say she proved herself to be a surprising asset to the team.

But she’d also made a few enemies today.

Novek had run his mouth about the new skating coach to the other guys all fucking day.

I wasn’t his number one fan, but she needed to back off a little or she was going to fuck with the chemistry of the team. The last thing I needed in the locker room was a pissed off and resentful star forward.

The Bruisers needed Novek.

I leaned against the door of her car and it groaned. Half the thing was rust, the other half was made of reflector tape. Whatever the Bruisers were paying her, it clearly wasn’t enough.

It would take nothing to send an email to Joyce in the front office asking for Liv’s contact information. As players we had full access to our coaches. But I didn’t want to raise any eyebrows asking for the temporary skating coach’s address and cell phone number.

Seemed…extra ballsy.

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