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“They’re sending me to a shrink. They think I have anger issues,” I confess, hating every word coming out of my mouth.
“Youdohave anger issues, Nathan. That’s what makes you such an incredible player. Although, let’s be fair. As far as I’m concerned, all hockey players must have a little bit of unresolved anger inside of them to play the game well. But that’s neither here nor there since you’re the only one being called out on it,” she says, irritated on my behalf. “Okay, so they want you to go to a therapist. That’s not too harsh of a sentence. Any other team would have suspended you for what happened last night. Seriously, Nathan. You’re smarter than being baited into a fight with a man half your size,” she chastises, and even though I can’t see her, I know she’s scowling at me.
“First of all, it wasn’t only one guy. It was two. And second, they weren’t half my size. One of them was even bigger than me,” I protest while pinching the bridge of my nose to alleviate the migraine I know is coming.
“Yes, well, the paparazzi didn’t film you swinging your ogrish fist at the big one. They only saw you laying out a guy who looks like he still lives in his mother’s basement. The man even had glasses, for Christ’s sake. Who hits a guy with glasses, Nathan?” she shouts in frustration, like I should know better.
I bite my tongue instead of telling her that the glass-wearing asshole was the one who had the audacity to grope a hand-full of the girl’s ass cheek when she was trying to get away from him and then force his tongue down her throat when she opened her mouth to cuss him off.
Piece of shit. He deserved what he got.
I’m the one who doesn’t deserve what I’m getting for doing the right thing.
And though I’m getting some serious blowback from it now, I still don’t regret a single thing that I did. I mean, that girl is someone’s daughter. Maybe someone’s sister or a girlfriend.
Or even someone’s mother.
But even if that wasn’t the case, she was still a fucking human being who deserved respect. It was apparent that the glasses-wearing fucker and his behemoth sidekick who was serving as his intimidating muscle, didn’t know the meaning of the word respect.
So yeah, at the time, I didn’t think about the repercussions.
I just thought it was about time those dipshits learned a lesson or two about how to treat a woman. And by the way they both got knocked-the-fuck-out, it’s a lesson in manners neither will soon forget.
“Even if there was a second guy in the mix, it wouldn’t do us any good telling the media that you were out-numbered two to one—especially because one of them looked like a fucking choir boy compared to you,” she dismisses after a pregnant pause. “All the Boston Guardians fans will care about is how you’re making the team look bad. And I hate to burst your bubble, but after your little tussle last night, the team’s image is definitely suffering for it,” she explains after letting out a sigh.
“You know how these things go. The media is good at spinning a narrative they can sell. And unfortunately for us, the video they got from last night has already gone viral, which means we’re shit out of luck trying to downplay it as a misunderstanding between two drunk guys at a bar. People have eyes, Nathan, and what they saw was you knocking a poor hundred-and-fifty-pound nerdy intellectual with just one punch,” she reprimands, and when I don’t add anything to theone-sided conversation, she continues on explaining in detail how I’m fucked beyond measure.
“We’re living in an age of cancel culture, and one wrong move will mean the end of your career and the end of any ongoing sponsorships. Now, I know you wanted me to look into getting you one of the big three sponsors, but that will have to be shoved to the back burner for the time being. We need to do some serious damage control to fix your image because, as of this morning, when people look at you, all they’ll think is that you’re just another rich, entitled dickwad who just happens to know his way around the ice and believes it’s enough for him to get away with punching innocent people without any consequences. To them, you’re just another asshole with too much brawn for his own good and not enough brain cells.”
My jaw clenches at her description of me.
“I’m not that guy,” I seethe through gritted teeth.
“Go online, Nathan. There is footage proving the contrary,” she retorts assertively. “It’s down to us to change people’s perception of you and make them forget they ever saw the video in the first place.”
I let out another curse under my breath, aggravation and frustration weighing heavy on my chest.
I did this to myself.
Me.
Not the assholes I punched last night.
Or the person who filmed it on their phone and sold it to the highest bidder.
Me.
I’m the one responsible for this shit show, and now I’m the one who needs to sort it out.
“So how do we do that? How do I clean up this fucking mess?” I ask, unable to hide my anxiety.
When Piper goes silent on the phone, my hackles rise even further.
Shit!
I must be in trouble if Piper is suddenly at a loss for words with no solution to offer.
“Piper? Are you there?” I ask after a full minute going by without her saying a word.
