Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Whatever,” Cam replies, sitting in the seat across from us.
We get to the hotel; everyone has a key waiting for them. I get into my room and my phone rings. I look down seeing it’s Ken calling.
“Hello,” I answer, putting the phone to my ear.
“Hey,” he says, breathing heavily, “I thought I would call you.” I swallow, thinking this must be it. “Just got off the phone with Steph,” he says of the agent that represents them all, “they are requesting either a trade or that we get rid of you.”
I sit on the bed. “Well, I don’t know what to say.”
“I will tell you I told him to fuck off, no one tells me what to do with my team, but that’s just because he pissed me off. I do have to tell you; Brad is already making the plans to replace you.”
“He’s been making the plans to replace me before I even started,” I tell him, putting my elbows on my knees, “so that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You have a big game ahead of you,” he says. “Why don’t you get through the game and we can figure things out when you get back?”
“Ken, is it worth it?” I ask him. “All of this. Is it even worth it?”
“The team is playing like shit and I’m sorry, but it has nothing to do with you. We know that at least those five are going to do what they need to do to make sure we lose the game.”
“I can’t bench them,” I tell him.
“No, you can’t,” he agrees, “but that doesn’t mean they need to have their full ice time minutes.” His voice goes low. “You pull off a win against Florida and there is nothing they can say about it.”
“If this works,” I tell him, “I’m going to want to sit down with you when I get back to go over a couple of things. If I’m going to stay, I’m going to need more support than Eric.”
“You have Cam,” he points out.
“I don’t,” I admit to him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t depend on him.”
“He’s been with the organization a long time, Zane,” Ken reminds me. “So before you bring this further, think about it.”
“I will.” I take a deep inhale. “Can I mention to the guys that I know about this, or is it supposed to be confidential?”
“Don’t give a shit. If they took this to their agent, confidentiality went out the window. I’m going to have to do what I need to do, and I needed you to know.”
“Thanks.” I put the phone down beside me and want nothing more than to call Victoria and talk to her about this. Just even to hear her voice.
That night, I pick up the phone and call her, and it rings twice and then goes to voicemail. I wait for it to beep and finally talk.
“Hey,” I say softly and close my eyes, “just calling to see how you are feeling.” I wait for a full five seconds before I say, “I miss you.” Then I hang up the phone.
I send her a text also.
Me:
Just called you. Checking in.
Beautiful Goddess:
Hey, sorry, on a conference call. Talk later or tomorrow since there is a time difference.
Me:
Okay, hope you are feeling better.
I put the phone down and stare out the window. The next day I get up and I’m the first one in the bus as the team heads over to the rink for practice. I wait to be the only one in the dressing room with Jaxon before I say something. “Just wanted you to know, five players are asking to either be traded or have me replaced.”
The shock fills his face. “I knew there was tension for sure but to ask to be traded?” he snaps. “Who?”
“I’m not naming names, but just wanted you to be aware of it.” I look over to see Kirby walking in. “The two of you, I’m going to be giving you extra ice time tonight, but I’m not announcing it.” Kirby and Jaxon share a look. “Let’s get on the ice,” I urge, walking past them, knowing that Jaxon will fill him in. The practice is light since we play tonight and when we head back to the hotel, I look over at Eric. “I want to go over something with you.”
We walk into my hotel room, review the lines and I finally make my play. “They get less ice time,” I finally share. “I hate cutting the bench, but I’m not fucking around. You can’t be a team player; you don’t get to play on the team.”
“About fucking time,” Eric declares. “I’ll handle the lines.”
“Let’s do this.” I slap him on the back and that night when I get to the arena, I can feel a difference in the room.