Writing out everything that just happened takes some time, but I get it done and send it as a response to him, then get up and grab everything to shower off the one drop I sweated during the first period.
I think about my options while I shower, taking my time for once, and remember Michael’s message from yesterday.
The one commercial flight going directly to La Guardia tonight leaves four hours after the game is supposed to end, so he sent over the jet for me. I was planning on ordering a car from hereto the private airfield anyway, so I already have all my stuff with me.
Once I finish and before I even put on underwear I ask Patrick if he thinks I need to stay until the game is over.
Patrick:
You do whatever the fuck you want. But maybe try to be invisible. We don’t need anyone taking pictures.
I already called the GM and told him it’s in their best interest to say you have a cold and that’s why you got benched.
Lex:
Awesome, thanks.
Another text pops up right after I answer.
Vinny:
What the actual fuck is going on?
Lex:
Too long to explain. Are you at Mom’s or the hotel?
He’s gonna be pissed that I’m not immediately telling him everything, and I know I would be too if I was in his place. But I really don’t want to spend an hour typing, and since I’m going to be around people—in the car, on the plane, in the taxi when I get to the city—it’s not like I can send him a voice note.
Vinny:
Si and I are at Mom’s. I got special permission from Laney.
God, I’m so jealous that he has not only a competent and smart coach but a cool one too.
Some people’s greed . . .
Lex:
Good, see you there in two hours or so.
Vinny:
No seriously.
WHAT THE FUCK?
I smilewhen I see the black SUV twenty feet away from the jet’s stairs. I really have the best stepfather in the world.
“Thanks for picking me up, Troy,” I tell him while I jog the last ten feet.
“No problem,” he says, his tone easier than normal.
It is a problem, really. He was probably ready to get some sleep instead of driving all the way out here.
My phone is still turned off in my pocket, and now that I don’t have to figure out transportation, I don’t bother turning it on, and instead close my eyes on the drive.
I don’t want to know what fans are saying online. I don’t want to see if anyone from the team said anything about me during an intermission interview or post-game press conference.
