“No, sir. No trouble.”
Another long pause. This must be what interrogation feels like, and he’s employing some kind of technique to make me break.
Other than getting a pig, I haven’t done anything wrong, so I focus on slowing my breathing and trying to make my racing heart slow down.
Okay, so none of my teammates currently know that we have a pig for a mascot yet. But my plan is to keep him in the apartment for a while until I know he’s a good fit, to get to know the guys first. And when the time is right, I’ll spring my pig on them.
I always wanted a pet pig, and now that I’m a grown-ass man, I can have one.
“I’ve heard the rumors, seen the stories online. I have your record from your last school.” He steeples his hands together on the table as he leans toward me. “I won’t have any shenanigans on my team.”
Shenanigans? Who is this guy? Uncle Buck?
Also, I happen to be a master shenanigator.
The more he stares at me, the more that might be exactly what he’s talking about. I swallow. Okay, so I like to party. And I have more than my share of bad luck.
But I want to play hockey. Ineedto play hockey. I want this gig more than I wanted the damn pig. And I really wanted the damn pig.
“Christmas.”
I fucking love Christmas. But I don’t imagine he’s asking for my Santa list right now.
“You have until Christmas. Consider this a trial period.” He levels me with a glare. “At which point, I’ll decide whether you’re a good fit for this team, this school, or not.”
He placed a hell of a lot of emphasis on the “I’ll decide” part of that sentence. He’s probably alluding to Papá de la Dollar Fund contributing to the university every year byanonymousdonation.
I almost snort. Alonso de la Peña never does anything anonymously. If he doesn’t get the credit, how will the whole world know what a benevolent, generous, and down to earth man he is?
Okay, now I might puke. And I realize I haven’t actually answered Coach Bales.
“Yes, sir.”
“In case I’m being unclear, let me lay it out for you.”
Here it comes.
“I don’t care who your father is, how much money he donates to the school, or whatpressurehe might put us under. If you don’t keep your nose clean, your grades where they need to be, and bust your ass between those pipes, you’re out. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Crystal clear.
My stomach tightens. While I don’t like to think I got this slot solely because of who my father is, I’ve spent my life so far comfortable in the knowledge that he is most definitely a safety net. If something goes awry, a well-placed phone call or a quietly written check could smooth things over.
Even when I hate my family name, even if I want to be painstakingly independent and not at all connected to Alonso, he’s always there like a bad smell, and Mamá always convinces him to bail me out.
From the hard glint in Coach Bales’s eye, he’d sooner burn the team to the ground than let Papá exert any influence over him.
Part of me respects the fuck out of that. I hope he can stay as resolved as he wants to. Alonso doesn’t take no for an answer.
But the other part, well, that part needs a fucking drink.
Instead, when I’m finally dismissed from Coach’s office, I hit up the gym. I’m up early. Too early. I may as well put the extra time to good use.
But forty minutes into my training, the bad mood still hasn’t shifted. I’m already on Coach’s shit list.
To be fair, I’m not sure he has anythingbuta shit list, but it would have been nice to have at least started at the bottom and worked my way to the top over time instead of sliding right in at number one.
I bet I’m the only player on his team that he had a sit-down with today. Or gave an ultimatum to.
