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He might have forgotten what he did.
But I haven’t.
Though I don’t consider Slade a long-term relationship type, I hope he and Chloe will be very happy together.
Actually… I don’t.
I hope she rips his heart into a million pieces and then skates over them with razor-sharp ice skates for poetic justice.
Slade
I’m not a big enough piece of shit to wish a child gets pink eye, but getting the HR manager’s email this morning apologizing for her absence today and referring me to Penelope’s desk seems like pretty good luck.
I took Penelope’s warning and made sure not to come in during her skate time this morning. Instead, I came in an hour earlier than her to get my conditioning in and shower.
When I finished my morning warm-up, the Zamboni driver was already there. He polished the ice after me so that Penelope would have smooth ice for her morning skate. He must like Penelope enough to do the extra work. It seems like everyone around here likes her, and I can’t fault them for it.
After my workout, I took a shower and then went down to Serendipity Coffee Shop to get Penelope her chai and a couple of their bagel breakfast sandwiches for me, along with a sticky bun and a lemon bar.
If I didn’t play professional hockey for the love of the sport, I’d do it just for the number of calories I get to eat. Some days it’s a curse to have to consume so much food, but most days, it’s fucking awesome to eat anything I want and say it’s for ‘work’.
I follow the dark, wide-plank, espresso-stained wood floors down to Sam's office.
The first door that leads into the large reception area is already open. I walk through to find a small well kept small love seat and coffee table to my left, closest to the door.
Penelope is seated further in the large room at a desk that runs vertically to what I assume is Sam’s office.
Sam has been down to practice the last couple of days, but he hasn’t called me to his office yet. With tomorrow's game, win or lose, the Hawkeyes will know whether we’re in the playoffs, and with that comes significant money opportunities for the franchise with sponsorship funds and deals with vendors that are keeping Sam and Phil busy.
“I’m early. I hope that’s ok,” I tell her, pulling out the chair on the opposite side of her desk.
My phone reads 7:53, but since it took me all of ten minutes to scarf down breakfast, I’ve been walking around the stadium aimlessly, looking for things I haven’t discovered yet. Today is the only day off for the players this week, but the coaching staff will be in today for me to meet in person.
“Just as well. Let’s get this over with,” she says, not making eye contact with me as she shuffles through paperwork. “There should have been an email with paperwork to complete. Did you bring that in?”
“Yep, I filled it all out last night.”
I hand her the stack of items I filled out after receiving an email from HR before I left Canada and slid it over the table.
She reaches over and grabs the documents, quickly going through the pages to ensure I brought her everything.
“Oh… before I forget,” she says, reaching for the coffee cup that I presume is the one I left her this morning. She pulls off the coffee cup sleeve and hands it to me. “Thanks for the chai, but don’t forget the barista’s number next time. You wouldn’t want to lose that since you went through all the effort to go down there and all.”
She thinks I went down there to flirt with the barista? Nothing could be further from the truth.
“I didn’t go down there to get her number,” I say to correct her assumption.
“It makes no difference to me what your next flavor of the week is, Slade. But I would prefer that the remanence of your efforts don’t taint my morning chia. No matter how dirty you order it.”
I smile to myself, thinking she must have read the ‘extra dirty’ written on the cup.
“Are you sure?” I ask, curious to find out if she really cares about someone leaving me their number on her cup or if there’s more to it than that.
Her eyes dart up to mine, and she stares back at me through her thick, painted lashes. There’s no glimmer of interest in them, just straight resentment that I’m here in her space, breathing the same air as her.
I’d think she was jealous if she were any other girl, but I know better. She’s still pissed at me for what happened in college, though she doesn’t know the whole story… and I’ll never tell her.
She might never forgive me for it, but that’s what I’m here to find out.
