Did you learn nothing from your past?
Those are just a few of the messages, all from my now-former Panthers teammates.
There are many more just like those from other people as well.
And, just a few minutes ago, Sebastian texted, Call me, man. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from the Wolves’ management today. We need to talk before then. I have an idea on how to get ahead of this and tamp this shit down quickly.
“Wait, what shit? Get ahead of what?” I grumble. “Seriously, what the fuck is going on?”
I do a little research, and after checking some of the latest hockey news, I discover pretty quickly what all the fuss is about.
It’s not good.
“Damn it! Viv and Vee sold me out!” I bellow.
I’m about to toss my phone across the room, but then I decide a busted-up electronic device won’t help the situation.
Letting out a long sigh, I glance down at the post I just pulled up from a very popular and well-known hockey blog.
The title glares at me: “Alex Hartwell, Still Up to His Old Tricks.”
“Great, just great.” I stare down at the accompanying picture of me, sandwiched between Viv and Vee.
My hair is a hot mess, in need of a trim, and my abs are exposed. Their long nails are scratching down my torso, boobs smashed into either side of me. And, to make matters worse, all our tongues are out.
Closing my eyes and sighing, I lower my phone.
Shit, what was I thinking?
I knew that selfie was a bad idea.
Why did I give in?
Why did I ham it up?
I wasn’t even drinking.
Fuck!
My phone dings and my eyes fly open, breaking me from my reverie.
It’s another text, and man, do I ever pay attention to this one.
Just as Sebastian predicted, it’s from the Wolves’ management—the director of player operations, to be specific.
The message is curt and simple. He and some others want to talk to me at the corporate office—pronto.
I text back, When should I come in?
He replies, Noon.
Shit, it’s not even a question.
It’s a command.
I quickly check the time and see it’s nine already.
Damn it, I only have three fucking hours to get myself—and a solid story—together.
Flopping back down on the pillows and running my hand down my stubbled face, I mutter, “I am so fucked.”
But then I remember the text from Sebastian.
Maybe there is a way to get ahead of this crap.
Hey, I’m up for anything at this point.
Fluffing the pillows up behind my head, I lean back and call Sebastian.
“Dude” is all he says when he picks up.
It’s enough.
“I know, I know.” I blow out a breath. “This looks bad.”
“Bad?” he scoffs. “That’s an understatement. Why didn’t you mention last night at dinner that this pic was out there?”
“I really didn’t even think about it,” I state truthfully. “It was never supposed to be posted anywhere.”
Sebastian laughs dryly. “Well, it’s posted everywhere now, dude.”
“Ugh.” I sigh. “It is, I know. I think everyone has seen it now too.”
Clearing his throat, Sebastian says, “I’m guessing that means you heard from management?”
“I have,” I confirm. “The director of player operations, Mr. Smith, texted me a few minutes ago.”
“When does he want to see you?” Sebastian asks.
“Today at noon. He said there will be others with him.”
My friend lets out a low whistle. “Damn, that sucks. This is fast. It’s Sunday morning. Management must be really fucking pissed about this.”
“Thanks,” I mutter sarcastically. “That makes me feel so much better.”
Sounding contrite, he says, “Ah, man, I’m sorry.”
Quietly, I murmur, “Who else do you think I’ll be meeting up with?”
“Probably Coach Townsend and the director. Maybe another corporate guy will be with them, like an attorney.”
“Great.” I close my eyes. “This is not how I wanted to kick off my time here. I think I really am fucked.”
Sebastian hesitates, then says, “Eh, maybe not. Sure, they’re mad. But, like you, they just want to put this to bed. And, dude, I meant what I wrote in my text. I have an idea on how to get ahead of this.”
“That’s actually why I’m calling,” I admit. “I need all the guidance I can get. So what are you thinking?”
Letting out a long sigh, he says, “The Wolves are known for running a tight ship. You heard about what happened to Brent a while back, yeah?”
I groan. “Yes, I heard.”
Everyone knows about Brent and his life coach, Aubrey. It worked out in the end, as they fell in love. But I doubt lightning would ever strike twice. I’d probably get the meanest, cruelest life coach on the planet assigned to me.
Sebastian goes on and I pay attention to him. “Okay, so anyway, I don’t think they’re going to assign you a life coach—”
“I hope the fuck not,” I interject.
Chuckling, he says, “However, I do think they’re going to want you in some kind of a controlled environment.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” I ask, genuinely curious and more worried than ever.
“It could mean a lot of things, Alex. Things like staying with one of us settled-down players for a while as opposed to living in a hotel or in your own place. That’s why I’m thinking you should just get ahead of it and move in with me and Bettina.”
Caught off-guard, I blurt out, “Wait, what?”
“You heard me,” Seb says, chuckling. “I think management would approve. Bettina and I are about as settled as any couple out there. You saw us last night at dinner. What do you think?”
Softly, I agree, “You guys do seem pretty settled.”
“Right, see. And the best part is you and I are already friends. It wouldn’t be awkward at all.”
He has a point, but I still have some reservations.
Raking my hand through my hair, I say, “Ah, man, I don’t know. I hate to ask that of you. Talk about an intrusion. Hell, your woman just moved in with you not that long ago.”
Sebastian, however, quickly assures me, “It’s no intrusion at all. And you’re not asking, we’re offering. We have a pretty big place with plenty of bedrooms. You don’t even have to stay in the house, though. There’s a nice apartment above the garage. It’s fully furnished and has a whole separate entrance.”
Hmm, this might not be so bad.
I think it over and, knowing I’m limited on my choices right now, I say, “I like the apartment-above-the-garage idea. But do you really think management will go for this?”
“I do,” Sebastian says. “I’ll let them know I’m cool with it as well and that it was my idea. Both are true. And I already asked Bettina. She thinks it’s a smart plan.” He pauses, then adds, “You know what? I just had a thought.”
“What’s that?”
“Okay, I know you have a rental car from the team, but why don’t I swing by the hotel and pick you up? We can go to the meeting together. The suits can even draw up some paperwork. If they agree to our plan, we can sign whatever they want and make it official.”