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“I know you do. So you won’t mind if you do a little more, now, will you?” she counters with an even tone. “I talked to Coach Byrne yesterday, and he agrees that this is the way to go.”
It’s with the mention of my coach that I relent to her demands.
“Fine. What do you want me to do?”
“Three days a week, you’ll be teaching hockey to little kids. Coach Byrne has already given the green light for you to use the arena for these classes until the end of the hockey season.”
“How little are we talking about?” I ask, already fearing one of them will get hurt under my watch.
“I’m thinking preteens, maybe. Still cute enough for all the pictures we’ll take but not young enough to break their neck on the ice.” She shrugs nonchalantly.
My stomach twists into knots with the idea of using children as a way to clean up my image, but if Coach Byrne thinks it’s a good idea, then I have no choice but to do as they say.
“What else?” I ask, already dreading the upcoming months.
“I have some other charity events that I want you to attend, purely for their photo ops, so my advice is for you to buy yourself some new tuxedos and suits. Also, shave the monstrosity of a beard and get a haircut while you’re at it. No one will believe you’ve turned a new leaf if you look like the Unabomber.”
I drag my hand over my face, hating every command coming out of her mouth. Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to tell my sports agent to fuck off with her demands since they are probably my only shot to keep my spot on the team.
“Fine,” I concede, even if every fiber in my being is screaming in protest. “As long as I keep wearing my jersey, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I’m glad you said that,” she says with a hesitant smile, “because there is something else you need to do.”
“Of course there is,” I mumble defeatedly, feeling like my life is no longer my own. “What is it?”
Piper chews at the corner of her lip and fixes her gaze on the altar instead of facing me head-on.
“I also want to book you an interview with a friend of mine. She’s the best in her line of business and owns one of Boston’s most successful agencies. I honestly think she can help you with our little… predicament.”
“What kind of agency are we talking about?” I ask suspiciously, since Piper continues to look straight ahead instead of meeting my gaze. “What exactly does this friend of yours do?”
“She’s a matchmaker.”
“A MATCHMAKER?!” I parrot incredulously, only to realize I had just blurted out the word to the high heavens right in the middle of the church ceremony.
Everyone is snickering at Piper and me, but it’s the way my team’s captain stares daggers in my direction that has me slowly sliding down the pew. Jack cuts his eyes at the both of us and tells the priest to continue, but the damage is already done.
Fuck.
Between pissing off my coach, the GM, the fans, and the press having a field day with my two-minute fuck-up, I’ve just managed to piss off my team’s captain, too, on his daughter’s big day, no less.
And if things couldn’t get any worse for me, not only am I expected to get my head examined by some shrink and teach hockey to little kids, but I’ll have to get my fucking picture taken in a monkey suit with some woman handpicked for me by a matchmaker.
I’m done.
Really fucking done.
This week can kiss my ass.
Chapter 6
Nathan
Once I’ve had a couple of beers at Jack’s place, my sour mood begins to brighten, even if only by a little. Sure, I’m still reeling at the thought of all the obstacles and tedious tasks I’ll have to maneuver through just to ensure my spot on the team, but at least I’m not at home sulking all by my lonesome again. Nothing screams hitting rock bottom more than a guy drinking by himself in his living room with the curtains drawn and the TV off. Unfortunately, it’s a scenario I’ve become far too familiar with for my liking.
Ugh.
I wonder what the shrink will say after I admit that doozy to her.
