Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“We play Dallas tomorrow,” someone says as I get dressed, “and they’re on a winning streak.”
“Great,” I reply, thinking about facing off with Michael and Dylan. “Well, they have to lose eventually, might as well be against us.”
“You think your father is going to come to town?” he asks me and I shrug.
“We didn’t really talk about it.” I pick up my phone and send him a message.
Me: You planning on coming down for the game or is it supposed to be a surprise?
“It’s always a blast when your father visits”—he smirks at me—“and tells us stories about the things in his days.” I can’t help but snort when he says that.
“I’ll let you know and if he is, we’ll get something to eat with him probably before the game, since he’ll most likely be in and out.”
“Count me in,” Kirby says, walking away from me and heading toward the gym. “Going to get on the bike for a bit.” I nod at him as I reach for the baseball hat on the hook, putting it on backward before grabbing my keys, phone, and wallet. “See you guys tomorrow,” I tell them, walking out of the locker room and toward the underground parking.
I push the black metal door as I look around, heading straight to my parking spot. I pull open the handle to the door and hear the car doors unlock before getting in. As soon as I roll out of the parking garage, I dial my father. It’s a habit that started to form about seven years ago. A habit he used to have, too, when he was playing. He would always, and I mean always, call us. As far as I can remember, he would always call us as he was leaving practice when we were home. When he was on the road, the call would always come in at around five, right before he needed to lace up and while we were gearing up to eat dinner. Now that it’s the other way, I make sure we speak all the time.
“Hey,” he answers after two rings and I can hear he’s out of breath.
“You never got back to me. Did you get my text?” I ask him as I make my way toward my house. “Are you busy?”
“No, just on the bike,” he says, “trying to get my cardio up.”
“It sounds like you’re dying.” I laugh at him and he also laughs at himself.
“It’s been almost a month since I’ve been on this thing, and it fucking shows. Yesterday, I had to take three breaks in an hour.”
“Getting old, Dad, you have to embrace it.” I try not to laugh while I say it.
“Eat shit,” he retorts. “Why did you text me?”
“We play Dallas tomorrow and I was wondering if you are flying in with Nico.” I know Nico goes to every single game with the team. He may not travel with them but he meets them there.
“I was going to,” he admits, “but Victoria has a game out of town and your mother doesn’t want to go by herself, even though she said she did.” My sister is playing hockey at school and he’s been to every single one of her games, just like he did with me.
“It’s fine,” I tell him when he starts, not wanting him to feel guilty about choosing one kid over the other, especially since I’m in my thirties. “Next time.”
“How you doing?” he asks me.
“Okay,” I answer, smiling. “I got an email from Erika’s replacement yesterday.” I pull onto the highway, right along the coast. “He’s going to come out on Thursday to have a meeting with me. Annoyed me that he emailed me instead of picking up the phone and talking to me.”
“I heard he’s a good kid,” my father reports, “been with Erika and Becca for a while.”
“I’ll meet with him and see how we vibe. It’ll be a waste of time for both of us if we don’t get along. Which could have been done on the phone before he flew out to meet with me.”
“You kids and the vibe test. Fuck the vibe. If he gets the job done, that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, but if he doesn’t have the same goals as me or if he doesn’t really think he can do anything for me, I’m not just going to sign with him. With Erika, I knew she would go out there and fight for me, even if I was wrong. She would tell me to my face, but then smile and pretend I was perfect.”
“She’s fucking good at her job.”
“Exactly,” I say, “it’ll be an adjustment for sure. Plus, I heard this guy isn’t really a hockey guy. His clients are more golf and football, but he wants to break into the hockey clientele. I’m not going to be his test subject.” I sigh.