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She went into the bathroom and I forced myself out of bed.
If I didn’t get moving, then I really was going to blow up the rest of my hockey career.
And my life.
For Anna.
And I wouldn’t regret it one bit.
Bobby droppedhis phone to his desk.
He winked at me.
“Hey, Jack. Are you listening to me? I hope you are. I’m saying this once.Go fuck yourself!”
Bobby ended the call.
“Working on a deal?” I asked.
“No. That’s my dry cleaner.”
“You talk to him that way?”
“Stupid prick shrunk a shirt on me.”
I pointed to the box of pastries on the desk. “You sure it was the dry cleaner who shrunk the shirt? Or did you get…?”
“You can fuck off too,” Bobby said. “What’s been going on with you? You’re like a ghost now. Are you really taking this stuff seriously? The psychology shit and stuff? That’s good if you are. It’s a good thing.” Bobby grabbed a pastry. “Want one?”
“I’m watching my figure,” I said.
“Me too,” he said.
He stuffed the pastry into his mouth and took a bite.
A stream of red jelly shot out of his mouth like clotted blood.
It hit his shirt.
“Fuck,” he said with a mouthful.
“Better call you dry cleaner back,” I said.
Bobby snapped his fingers and pointed. “Got a closet full. No worries.”
He swallowed his bite of jelly pastry, chomping like he had no idea how to properly eat.
Then he sat down, wiped his hands, and drank some coffee.
“Let’s get down to it,” he said.
“You sure? You done gullet-fucking that pastry?”
“You ready to play hockey or what?”
“I’m always ready,” I said. “I’m waiting for the call.”
“What call?”
