3. Stefan
3
STEFAN
Moving to LA was supposed to be a fresh start for me, but trouble likes to follow me around—well, that’s not quite true. I like to test the limits; I mean, we only live once. Right? Besides, I can’t help it if the bunnies want a piece of me. And what’s not to love? I’m six foot two. I have muscles on muscles on muscles, all thanks to my vigorous schedule and routine. And not to toot my own horn, but I’m easy on the eyes, with shaggy dark locks and kissable lips. My eyes are the color of chocolate. I’m essentially the complete package. Oh, and I have a perfect dick and, like my hockey stick, I know how to wield it.
This is supposed to be the prime time of my life. Yes, professionally I’m at the top of my game, but personally, all I keep doing is fucking things up. No matter what I do, it’s wrong. Yes, I know I control the decisions I make … like having an orgy with three bunnies while my live-in girlfriend was away helping her friend, but they were hot … and there were three of them. What sane male would turn down three hot bunnies with amazing tits? Exactly. No one. The day God created tits: Best. Day. Ever. Well, it was, until my team won the Cup. THAT then became the best day ever.
Today, I’ve been summoned to meet with the team owner, Tania, and Coach Barber to discuss things. I’m not in the mood because I have a naked chick in my bed and a pack of condoms waiting for me to tear into. A meeting with the big bosses isn’t what I want to be doing right now, but they sign my paycheck, so my dick will just have to wait. But as soon as this meeting is over, I’ll be back at my beachfront condo, and before the front door clicks closed, I’ll be balls deep inside the bunny I picked up two days ago.
Yep, whatever-her-name-is and I have been fucking for the last forty-eight hours.
I’m waiting in the conference room, and the assholes have the gall to be late. The chick waiting for me just sent a pic of her in my bed with her fingers in her cunt and a come-fuck-me look on her face. Readjusting my dick, I lean back in my seat and wait, but all I can think about is what’s waiting for me in my bed—I can’t wait to get back home.
Finally, the door opens and Tania walks in, followed by my coach, Leif. Tania is the team owner. She inherited the team when her father passed away, two years ago, but she has just as much passion for the sport as her late father did, making LA one of the top teams in the league.
“Stefan,” Tania greets me. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”
“Happy to be here, ma’am,” I tell her. Even if it’s far from the truth, but since she signs my paycheck and has final say in my contract renewal—fingers crossed—I’ll play nice. “But I am a little confused as to why I’m here.”
“Really, Stefan?” Tania growls. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her take that tone. “You have no idea why you’ve been called in here today?”
There are so many potential reasons why, but I’m not about to list any, just in case they aren’t the reason why I’m here today. Yes, a lot of my exploits end up in the tabloids, and that Margaret bitch from WtB always seems to be around, airing my dirty laundry for the world to see. This is the only downside of doing what I love. Hockey is in my blood. I was born to be a player, on and off the ice.
“Stefan, son.” I hate it when people call me son. Hell, I even hate it when my dad does it. It’s Stefan or D?uchmen, hell, I’ll even take my nickname of Doucheman over son. “Are you listening?”
“Sorry, I was thinking about the next game.”
“Bullshit, Stefan,” Leif snaps. Coach is just as pissed as Tania today. “This is one of the many things we’re referring to. You zone out. You do what you want, and you don’t give a fuck about the consequences. All you care about is yourself and getting laid. You’re a terrific player, Stefan, but your attitude is going to be your downfall. And that is why this meeting is happening.”
“What is happening?” I ask them. And then I voice my inner fear, “Am I being fired? Traded?”
“If you were listening, Stefan,” Tania interrupts because, right now, Coach is too pissed off to reply. “Your image consultant?—”
“I already have one of those,” I throw at her, but she glares at me, so I sit back, zip my lips, and listen.
“As I was saying, your image consultant from LTS is coming here. She will be moving in with you, and you will do what she says, when she says. Nothing more.”
“Come again?” I hiss.
“Your image consultant is moving in to be your handler.” She says this as if I’m going to be okay with some random chick living in my house. Pot. Kettle. I know since right now there’s a random chick in my house, but that’s beside the point.
“Like fuck she’s moving in,” I growl. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m out of here.” Shoving my chair back, it topples over and I march toward the doors.
“If you want to keep playing for LA, you will sit down, shut up, and abide by the rules. You have until we start contract negotiations to turn your image around, Stefan.” Tania’s words stop me in my tracks. “You have eighteen months to show me that you are worthy of an LA jersey, otherwise, I will cut you loose. And losing you as a player would suck, but I have a brand image to uphold and, right now, you are tarnishing that image.” Spinning back to face her and Coach, I stare at them, and from the serious look on each of their faces, they aren’t messing around. “Stefan, this is your chance to show everyone who you really are. Take this opportunity and turn yourself back into something great. I know you can do it. As Leif said before, you’re a great player, but your attitude and behavior stink. Wouldn’t you rather your legacy be for your skill on the ice rather than for your antics off the ice?”
“Doesn’t look like I have a choice in the matter.” I huff like a petulant child. “But if my shit starts to go missing, this stupid deal is off.”
Tania’s phone pings, and when she looks to the screen she smiles. “Perfect timing. The consultant has just arrived. Let me bring her in.”
“Awesome,” I mumble, but we all know from my tone, it’s less than awesome.