Chapter Two September
“Hey!”
Nick looked up from his computer to see Chad sauntering into his office.
Knew I should’ve shut the door…
“Hey,” he said reluctantly. If it were almost anyone else, he’d be happy to take a break, but Chad from sales was a dick.
He would gladly waste Nick’s time, not realizing or caring that Nick wasn’t enjoying himself, and would ignore all of Nick’s attempts to end the conversation.
Nick had once gotten stuck listening to the guy talk about a golf tournament for his entire lunch because Chad followed him from the kitchenette to the bathroom and then back to Nick’s office without getting the hint that Nick didn’t care.
A break was a good idea, but at what cost?
He took a deep breath and asked, “What’s up?”
“I heard you’re playing hockey now. How’s that going?”
Shocked, Nick had to pull his jaw up off the ground before answering.
He knew most of the sales guys had real bro/jock vibes.
Maybe playing hockey had bought him some goodwill?
And that might result in his being viewed as a person instead of as a numbers guy who existed only to cater to his co-workers’ needs.
Whether those needs were work-related or listening to self-aggrandizing stories, Nick often felt like he was a convenient prop.
“Really well, actually. Scored my first goal—”
“Awesome, bro!” Chad flashed him a smile that no doubt got him at least half of his sales. “So you got that T he was swamped enough and too tired to play nice much longer.
“I get thirty fucking minutes to myself. This dick probably doesn’t have shit to do today, could look up that report himself, waste of my time…
” Nick pulled out his phone, desperate for a distraction to get him through the next few hours.
“Fuck him and his fucking T&E crap. Like I don’t got better shit to do. ”
Normally, his phone would be devoid of notifications this early, so it was a pleasant surprise to find he had several waiting for him. The top was so filled with alerts that some were cut off by an ominous “…” that made them more mystery than notification.
Interest piqued, he scanned the list of messages as he tried to find the best place to start.
Jenna May (8:15 a.m.)
Movie this weekend. Tear jerker or horror?
FYI the scary one is in French and Terry is trying to veto it because he doesn’t want to read a movie
It’s a horror movie!!! It could be silent and you could understand!!!!
He snorted.
Nick (11:49 a.m.)
terry is a wimp i vote incomprehensible french horror
bonus if the subtitles are also in french
There was one from his mom—her weekly check-in.
Mom (9:15 a.m.)
Hope you are having a good week so far!
It was good to see you at the family picnic last week but I would love to get some time with you to myself :’)
Lunch this weekend? I’ll make your favorite
Nick (11:51 a.m.)
sure mom i’ll be there
i can pick up dessert on the way if you want
The choices got rougher from there. Emails to his personal account, some random Twitter notification, a friend request on Facebook, and—
He promptly swiped open a new message from Brady.
Jensie from Hockey (9:10 a.m.)
there’s pick up at Wheaton Friday @ 9, you in?
They’d been meeting regularly for stick-and-pucks and open skates the past few weeks, often enough that Nick had blocked out those times in his schedule and adjusted his runs around them.
He’d seen a big improvement in his play (and in Brady’s demeanor) and wanted to keep it up.
A pick-up game, though? Random people with no actual investment in playing as a team didn’t seem like a recipe for success, at least not for someone as new to the game as Nick was.
It was enough of a mixed bag when clinics ended in mini-scrimmages, and so he avoided the whole concept of pick-up games as a general rule.
That was a thing Good Players? did, and Nick was not a good player.
Nick (11:54 a.m.)
dunno if i’m ready for that
His thumb hesitated over the send button, then he decided he was overthinking it and hit “Send.”
He hadn’t even switched apps when he got a reply.
Jensie from Hockey (11:55 a.m.)
you play actual games in an actual league and you’re worried about pick up???
Was it bad that he could absolutely picture Brady’s exasperation?
Nick (11:55 a.m.)
attitude is different at pick up
y’all knew what you were getting when i joined the team
some johnny hockey comes in wanting a hard game and ends up with newbie mcnewberson and he gets pissed and then he doesn’t have fun and i don’t have fun and i quit hockey and move to somewhere with no ice
It was a lot to unload, too many insecurities to dump on Brady, and he regretted it. There was no taking it back, though, so he read through his emails to calm down while he waited for a response he didn’t quite expect to get.
Jensie from Hockey (12:07 p.m.)
okay first off Gaudreau is not showing up to random ass Wheaton pick up
second off fuck anyone that uptight about a pickup game
if it makes you feel better I know the guy who runs it I’ll get him to put us on the same team
third it’s fucking southern Maryland there’s barely any fucking ice here as is
Nick totally did not giggle or blush like a kid with a crush—not because he wasn’t rapidly developing a crush, but because he was too old to giggle about it, thank you very much—as he eagerly savored each reply.
Nick (12:13 p.m.)
omfg did you just make a joke?? TWO jokes?? who the fuck is this and what have you done with jens?
He waited a moment before hitting “Send,” typing and re-typing the last word. He’d known Brady’s name within a minute of meeting him, but since the team strictly called him Jens or Jensie, Nick had never actually said the name Brady Jensen out loud.
His fingers burned to type Brady, but no, hockey convention reigned.
Jensie from Hockey (12:15 p.m.)
har har
you’re coming get over it
Painfully aware that his lunch break was up, he resigned himself to the inevitable. Brady had helped him a ton, and if he wanted Nick to join him for a pick-up game, Nick could suck it up and deal. As a thanks for all of Brady’s help, of course. Definitely not for crush-related reasons.
Nick (12:16 p.m.)
fine but you owe me a beer
Before he could turn off his phone and return to the world of accounting, an answer came.
Jensie from Hockey (12:16 p.m.)
fine but you owe me a goal
Nick (12:17 p.m.)
deal
*
His work life had almost gone back to normal by the time Friday rolled around.
It could be better, but he wasn’t a mess of nerves threatening to punch the next person who stepped into his office asking for something a.) they knew he wasn’t authorized to give them or b.) they should be able to do themselves.
The unfortunate part was that this was a regular issue, one that reared its head at the close of each month and dragged on through the beginning of the next one.
Today was fine, and the next two weeks would be fine, and then he’d be a stressed-out mess again.
“I do not hate my job,” he told himself as he angrily forced his shin guards into his bag. “I do not hate my job. I maybe hate some of the people I work with, but that’s irrelevant.”
Technically, he liked the job itself. Being a senior staff accountant had its perks, and it appealed to him in ways he couldn’t deny were mostly about him being a math nerd.
Numbers were fun—always had been—and he liked that he had an office downtown with a view of the Washington Monument.
He liked that he worked for a company that did a lot of non-profit work, he liked that (some) of his coworkers were not complete assholes, and as much as he complained about the workload, he liked that he earned a pretty penny for his efforts.
It didn’t make him any less grumpy about the bullshit that came up.