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As I knock on Bryan Clark’s hotel room door, I remind myself that this is for Charlotte. This guy is such a fucking dick.
Clark answers in a pair of light-blue boxers and no shirt, his dark hair mussed up from sleep. He yawns and stretches his arms above his head. “What the fuck do you want, Parker?” Moving his hands onto his hips, he stares me down. “It’s too early to see your ugly mug.”
“You haven’t answered any of my calls, so what choice did I have? I need to talk to you about Coach, but I’m sure you already know that.”
Clark rubs his eye with the back of his hand. “I got your messages, but what does my agent have to do with you?”
Placing my hand on the wall, I lean against the doorframe. “Are you going to let me in or what? I’d prefer not to have this conversation in public.”
He looks down the vacant hallway and rolls his eyes. “No one is around. Just spit it out, and get the hell out of my face.”
Coming here, especially this early in the morning, I knew Clark would be the most difficult of Charlotte’s clients to deal with, considering our previous history on the ice. I saved him for last because the asshole would not return my phone calls but also because I had a feeling this one would be the most challenging. In retrospect, I probably should have worked on him first.
It takes every ounce of my self-control to man up and set aside our differences right now. “I’m sure you saw the papers a few months ago when they were talking about Coach and me, right?”
He laughs into the crook of his arm. “Yeah, you looked like such a pussy in those pictures. Were you really begging Coach to go out with you?”
With my hands balled into fists at my sides, I try to hold back my anger. He has always pushed my buttons on the ice. Fucking prick!
“Not exactly, smart-ass. We were dating before that happened, and after Mickey found out, he put a stop to it. He has these stupid office policies about employees dating clients.”
“You got a piece of Coach?”
I want to beat the smirk off his face. He holds up his hand for me to give him a high five, and I shake him off.
“Damn, Parker. Coach…mmm…that’s some top-quality pussy. Good for you.”
Restraint is not something I have had much of over the years. I use that to my advantage when it comes to hockey, but I’m about two seconds from murdering Clark. “Are you going to help me out or not?”
He snickers. “Why would I want to help you? After you head-butted me in the finals and broke my nose, no fucking chance I want to do a damn thing for you.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I got suspended for three games at the start of the next season because of it.”
“Nope.” Clark shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. Sorry, I can’t help you.”
He starts to close the door on me, but I push my hand out to stop him.
“You are the last person on her client list. I need you to do me a favor. What will it take?”
He opens the door wide, his hand pressed against the wood, and he leans into it. “You could beg. Why don’t you get on your knees like you did for Coach?”
I snort. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“No, you get the fuck out of here, Parker. You come to my door at the asscrack of dawn, expecting me to do you a favor. You broke my fucking nose just because you were pissed off that you were getting your ass handed to you, and you think I’m just going to forget that, so you can fuck my agent?”
My love for Charlotte has only grown stronger with each day we’ve spent apart. On occasion, I see her coming or going to her apartment, or we share an elevator, but it has been far too long since I last touched her. She knows I have been working on getting her back, and when we speak during those short-lived moments, I can tell that she is hoping I will set my pride aside and do whatever is necessary to get her back. And I have to do that right now.
Sinking to my knees in front of Clark, I’m ashamed and embarrassed, hoping no one will open their hotel door at this very moment and snap another newsworthy picture.
“Happy?” I say, holding my arms out at my sides. “Now, will you please help me get Coach back? I’m organizing something, and I need you to come.”
Clark twirls his beard between his fingers, entertained, with a huge smile on his face.
“I’m glad you find this so funny, but I have to leave soon for practice, and I need to know that you will do this. If you don’t want to do it for me, can you at least do it for Coach? After some of the deals she has gotten you, this is the least you can do for her.”
“Just the sight of you on the ground, begging me, was worth it. Fine, I will come to whatever you’re planning, but let’s get something straight. I am doing it for Coach, not you. You should probably get up because you look like an even bigger pussy than you did before. At least, now, I know your weakness.”
Charlotte is not my weakness. She is my strength. Using the wall to support my weight, I get up from the floor, feeling victorious even though I lost a little bit of my dignity in the process. My girl is worth it.
