Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I look out the window because I forgot to close the shade, and I’m too lazy to get up and close them, and then my phone beeps, and I grab it. It’s from Mark, and it’s a picture of the fishbowl.
Markos: I’ve fed him, and he’s still alive.
I laugh and reply right away.
Me: He’s a she.
Markos: You can’t just assume it’s a girl.
Me: I can assume that just like you can assume sending me a pet was a good idea.
Markos: I will never do that again. Good night.
Me: Bonne Nuit.
I turn and smile, thinking of him, and then slowly my eyes get heavy as I play that night over and over.
Chapter Fourteen
Mark
“You need to stick to the corners better,” Pierre tells me, coming over to me while I drink some water. “Your skate has to touch the bar, or it will give even that little space, and if you move, it’s enough for a puck to go in.”
I nod, then pull my mask down and get into position. Stick down blocking my two skates, glove out to the side and crouched down. I watch the puck going back and forth on the blade of his stick. I don’t just look at the puck; I look at his hands, and I look at the way his body moves. Even with the most sudden movement, I know which way he will be going.
When it looks like he is going to shoot, I see the sudden flick of his wrist to pass it to the other guy across the ice, and I slide just in time to catch it with my glove.
“Fuck.” I hear Viktor hiss. “Thought I would get it past you,” he says, hitting my pad with his stick. “Good call.”
I toss the puck up with my glove and let it fall to the ice, and then I pass it back to the coach. The team spends two hours on the ice, and I get another hour in with Pierre, and when I skate off, my whole body is wet with sweat. I walk to the back room and undress without a word to anyone. I stand in the shower and let the water wash over me, and then I get dressed and head off to the gym to run on the treadmill for a while. By the time I’m done, I need another shower, and the room is mostly empty. The only ones remaining are the rookies excited to play this year. You see it all the time. They’re eager to become a superstar and happy to be a part of the team, so they stay longer and work harder. It’s always a hard fall when they fuck up, and even though we all fuck up and have bad games, the rookies take it the worst.
“Later, boys,” I say, grabbing my baseball hat and putting it on backward. My keys, wallet, and phone are the last things I pick up. Sliding my wallet in my shorts pocket, I then see my phone with notifications. I scroll down while I walk to the truck and I really look to see if Vivienne texted me and see she hasn’t.
Getting in the car, I’m tempted to call her and ask her to have coffee with me, but I don’t. Instead, I call my brother, and we discuss our New Orleans trip next weekend. “It works out perfect,” I tell him, turning onto my street. “The preseason starts two days after that, so I’ll be back in time to fly to Philly with the team.”
“I’ve got a dinner in Silicon Valley the same night, and I have to be there,” Chris says, and I nod.
“It’s fine. It’s pretty much me showing up and cutting the ribbon. I plan to just fly in Saturday morning and out Sunday,” I tell him and then pull into my parking spot. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“Okay,” my brother says and disconnects. He’s in the middle of creating another app. When he does that, he goes into his own mind.
I get out of the car and walk to the elevator, and my fingers move faster than my brain does, and I text Vivienne.
Me: Want to go to New Orleans for the day?
I press send, and then I spot the three bubbles appear and I smile.
Vivienne: I’m in Long Island until Sunday. Maybe next time.
Me: Promise?
Vivienne: Cross my heart.
Me: Good it’s for the 15th, clear your schedule.
Vivienne: Oh, smooth.
I get tired of texting and call her instead, and she answers laughing. “Well, there goes that message.” The sound of her voice has me smiling. “What can I do for you?”
“That has to be a trick question.” I think of her standing in front of me holding the fishbowl and then sitting at the table and not dragging her chair beside me to have her close by. To kiss her neck when I want to. To pick her up and take her to bed with me. “So are you free on the fifteenth?”