Page 107 of The Tryout

Later that day, after a long nap and a feast of Italian food, we’re laying together on the couch. I’m scrolling through Instagram while Finn seems to be paying rent. I’m still amazed that Finn’s sole electronic device is his phone. I’ve offered several times for him to use my laptop when dealing with bills and emails, but he just shrugs me off, preferring to squint at the tiny screen while typing away with his thumbs.

Suddenly, Finn sits straight up. The look on his face is one of confusion mixed with a bit of shock.

“Hey, what’s up?”

My scrolling this morning hasn’t shown anything to be upset about – no trades or injuries that should be affecting the Huskies.

He looks at me, eyes wide.

“I was paying bills and my paycheck, it’s…wrong.”

“Is it not enough? I mean, you got called up this month, right? They’ll withhold a little higher percentage, maybe?”

“No, it’s way, way too much.”

Confused, I hold out my hand, half expecting him to tell me to mind my own business about money. He must truly be in shock, though, because he immediately places his phone in my hand, almost desperate to get rid of it. Sure enough, the deposit pulled up on the screen is large. But, well…not that large? Not for a professional hockey player, at least.

As I try to figure out how to say that, Finn seems to be breaking out in a cold sweat.

“They’re gonna need that money back. Who should I call? Coach? HR?”

Keeping my mouth shut, I head to my room, where my laptop is sitting on my bedside table. Finn follows behind, speechless. I push him to sit on the edge of the bed, then sit next to him. I open a spreadsheet on one half of the screen and, on the other, the Pack’s webpage.

After copying over a few numbers and running through some formulas, I confirm my suspicions: there’s nothing wrong with the number. Still, I know that’s going to be a hard pill for Finn to swallow; I decide to explain it slowly.

“Ok, so when you signed your new deal, we talked about the difference between two-way and one-way deals, yes?”

He nods. Jack Kinkaid had handled most of the conversation, but Finn, still a little afraid of the man, had been left with questions. Questions I’d been happy to answer in bed after a particularly satisfying round of blowjobs.

“So in a one-way deal or an AHL contract, you’ll get paid the same amount for every day you’re on the team, right?”

He nods, silently.

“For the AHL, at league minimum, that’s a little under $300 per day. For the NHL, at league minimum, it’s…considerably more.”

“How…how much more?”

I take a deep breath, still trying to handle the situation carefully.

“So, in a two-way deal like yours, you have two salaries, right? A salary for the days you’re in Iowa…”

“...and a salary for the days I’m with Minnesota. Right.”

I smile, glad he remembers our conversation, even if the reality of it doesn’t seem to have clicked.

“Now, Jack’s negotiated you a decent AHL salary, which works out to about $400 per day. Your NHL salary is a little above league minimum.”

His breathing is coming heavier now.

“Why won’t you tell me what that is?”

I turn my computer around, showing him the screen. In bold letters, it reads:

NHL Salary Per Day: $4,700

His jaw drops, eyes lifting to mine, then looking at the screen again, then back to me.

“There must…that can’t be right.”