Page 38 of Two for Charging

Leonora nodded. “Much better to have the conversation now than to have an awkward bulge later.”

Miraculously, Breezy laughed. Luca had never known anyone to overcome embarrassment with such speed. “I’m so excited,” he told Leonora. “I have such a hard time finding pants that fit.”

She eyed his jeans with revulsion. “I can tell. Once you’ve tried, you will have to let me know what you think. Luca can bring you to his next fitting if you’re convinced.”

Breezy turned his million-watt smile on Luca.

“Of course,” Luca said.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching as Breezy pulled his clothes on again, hiding miles of skin under what Luca could see now were hideously ill-fitting clothing choices.

On their way home, they stopped for smoothies and sandwiches at a far-too-expensive shop near the BART station. They found a bench by a fountain comprised of stones arranged in geometric shapes, where they sat to eat. The team nutritionists said it was important to take time over meals and not rush them, and Breezy always did what they told him. He was very coachable. Everyone said so.

Between bites of his turkey on rye with avocado and pomegranate jus—the most Californian sandwich Luca could have imagined—Breezy enthused about Leonora and how neat her shop looked, how interesting she was, and what it must be like to be a woman in a trade so dominated by men.

“She made fun of you the whole time,” Luca pointed out while he unwrapped his sandwich (roast beef with mustard, mozzarella, and pesto). “I apologize.”

Leonora didn’t mean anything by it. She was sharp-tongued by nature, one reason why Luca got along with her and kept going back after she’d made his first game-day suit for the big leagues last November. But he didn’t want Breezy to be uncomfortable.

“Nah, she did it the way you do it.” Breezy smiled at him, big and luminous. “I don’t mind people making fun as long as I’m in on the joke.”

He took a sip of his smoothie, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked on the cardboard straw.

“I could help you,” Luca said with no input whatsoever from his brain.

“Huh?” Breezy licked a hint of blended berry off of his upper lip.

“With sex. If you are in the market for a coach.”

Chapter Seven

“While the betting scandal raises questions about the structure of ownership and the massive blind spots in NHL oversight enabling it, I would like to start by pointing to the human cost.

Now I know what you’re thinking: These are guys earning millions of dollars to play a game. How bad can it be? I thought the same thing. But after spending a full season watching the toll Lewis Trout and Maxwell Van Giesing’s actions took, it is worth remembering these guys are human. One of Trout’s strategies was to wear out the defensive core during practice both physically and emotionally. To a certain extent, tough love is an established coaching strategy, but very few people react well to constant criticism.

On the one hand, this led to inconsistent performances during games, which audiences and the media noticed. This was Trout’s aim. He would place bets on injuries, scratches, and trades, all the while overtaxing player injuries and bullying them into breakdowns or trade requests.

On the other hand, athletes live in such a pressure cooker that the psychological effects can be harrowing. Knowing your performance on ice could ruin the team’s chance at the playoffs, even as your performance is being sabotaged, is a miserable state to be in. It leaves players on edge, exhausted, and competing with each other in what should be a team sport.”

(From “The Odds Are Never in Your Favor: An Exposé on the Betting Scandal at the Heart of the San Francisco Sea Lions,” by Ben Sinclair, published in The San Francisco Herald, 07/20/2025)

The team’s first regular season match was an away game in Chicago.

Chris wore his trusty beige suit to the airport, suddenly aware of how the fabric crinkled at the sides and stretched too tight over his shoulders but hung loose around his waist. And, well, there was the crotch bulge, but he’d never found a suit where he didn’t have that problem. Jeans in thick denim worked sometimes, if they were loose enough, as did baggy sweatpants. Luckily, barring a brief phase as a teenager, Chris wasn’t one of those guys who got random boners. Those would be a nightmare.

On the flight, Chris sat next to Howie as usual. Luca never said Chris couldn't sit with him, but he often had his headphones on, and Chris liked to talk to the guys. He didn’t want to bother Luca, not when Luca had already gone to so much trouble for him this season.

Besides, Chris owed him an answer, and if they sat together, he’d have to give it.

He’d been half joking when he said he needed a sex coach, but Luca was dead serious when he offered to take the job. Chris had no idea how to feel about it. He had a blank sheet of paper waiting for a pro/con list in the inside pocket of his suit, but there was no way he could fill it in with Howie sitting next to him, fidgeting every three seconds.

“What’s with you?” Chris asked him.

“Ugh.” Howie burrowed deeper into his seat. “Just nervous, I guess.”

“No matter what Jax says, you aren’t actually a rookie anymore.”

Howie punched him on the shoulder, which Chris deserved. “Did you see Chicago’s preseason games?”