Chapter 32
WARD
‘W ell, hello. I swear you only come out of wherever it is you hide when you want to be fed.’
As if on cue, the cat mewed and Ward figured that was a direct order. He leaned down, grimacing ever so slightly at the action.
Placing some food in Pretzel’s bowl and offering breakfast to his feline friend, he once again felt his mood grow dark about the latest coverage and the fact that Hannah still hadn’t returned his call from yesterday. But it was late when he called so maybe she switched her phone off outside of work hours or something. God knows the damn thing bugged the hell out of you, wanting to be picked up, stroked and played with. Something he’d already known, of course, hence his refusal to ‘get with the times’.
But like it or not, he was part of the collective now. Well and truly assimilated.
Despite himself, he chuckled. Maybe Hannah was actually the Borg Queen in disguise. As if on cue, his tormentor buzzed – but another name popped on the caller ID, and Ward’s foul mood instantly returned. For a moment, he debated not taking it, sending it to voicemail. But he knew that would only delay the inevitable.
When Irene wanted to talk to him, she didn’t rest from her mission until she did.
Stringing together a colourful line of expletives usually reserved for when he was on the ice, Ward grabbed the device and connected the call.
‘Morning, Mom,’ he said sharply. ‘What’s going on?’
A tsk ensued on the other end of the line.
‘Well, isn’t that a way to greet your mother? You know, one day I’m not going to be around and you’re going to have to find someone new to treat like garbage.’
He rolled his eyes at the dramatics and rubbed his right temple – few things could provoke a headache like his mom.
And her timing was always sublime. He breathed through his nose, trying to bring his blood pressure down. No point in starting a fight. Best to simply figure out what she needed and why she was calling, and then hang up. He’d become practised at handling her over the years, if never quite successful.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Just tired. Have a lot going on these days.’
On the other end of the line, Irene suddenly crooned the tone of her voice becoming sing-songy. ‘I see that. Your Aunt Helen just forwarded something she saw online that would make any mother proud.’
Ward bit his tongue, recognizing the not-so-subtle dig.
As if rising to the ranks of a pro hockey player was something to be looked down upon – like it hadn’t required determination, commitment, and yes, even talent. It wasn’t like Ward skated in a beer league, for Chrissake. Or was some overweight has-been, trying to hold on to his high school glory days.
As if Irene too had not been elevated beyond her previous station in life as a low-income single mom because of his success. Ward had already ensured that she’d have it easier financially as she got older. And yet she still insisted on making calls like this – all to make him purposely feel shit about himself.
Though as to why a shot of him holding a bunch of kittens should put her nose out of joint he didn’t understand. But he had never in his life understood Irene’s thought process, so, hey.
‘What – so you’re reduced to soft porn now?’
Huh? Ward felt his grip on the phone tighten and he had the sudden desire to break the damn thing in half just to end his mother’s torment. He inhaled deeply, counting to four before exhaling. ‘It was fun,’ he said evenly, doing his damnedest not to take the bait. ‘I actually ended up saving a stray that was about to be destroyed and …’
She ignored him. ‘Oh, you mean the animal shelter thing. I know you certainly didn’t come up with that crap. So who did?’
Completely confused by the direction the conversation had taken, (to say nothing as to how the ‘porn’ thing came into it), Ward’s brain hurt. Regardless, he knew that if he mentioned to Irene that he was working with a publicist to improve his reputation, his mother would pee all over it.
But then how did he describe Hannah, if not for the fact that she was his rep? And yes, it was her job to improve his reputation. A task that she seemed to have embraced wholeheartedly.
Despite his annoyance at her sharing the kittens’ pic, Ward couldn’t deny the level of consideration she had given him thus far, nor the time and effort. The continuous words of encouragement too, even as he wanted to tear the whole experience apart.
Something his mother was attempting to do right now with her not-so-subtle insults and backhanded compliments.
Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?
But Ward decided he wasn’t going to allow Irene to trash Hannah’s good work on his behalf. Before he could think further about it he answered simply, ‘A friend. A friend of mine arranged it. And she did a good job.’
‘And is this friend going to appear in the next video? Or are we just gonna see more of you half-naked huffing and puffing while flexing your muscles?’
And then it dawned on Ward that his mother was referring, not to the kittens pic, but to the training video Shelley had filmed of him. Soft porn?
His entire body cringed so badly he wanted to lie down and die.
‘Jesus, Mom, it was a workout video to show my fans how my progress is going.’
‘Well, Aunt Helen seemed to think that it was one of those sites where weirdos pay you to get naked, but what do I know?’
And if Helen thought that, who knew how many others would too? Ward winced with mortification.
He’d fucked this up already, hadn’t he? No wonder Hannah wasn’t answering. He’d blown her strategy with his very first foray into this stuff. Why didn’t he run it by her – the expert – instead of letting Shelley talk him into it? He didn’t think his trainer meant any harm and was only trying to help, but man, had that backfired.
Christ. Ward wasn’t sure if he could show his face in public again, let alone online. And to think he was worried about the locker room ribbing about the kittens’ pic … the guys would have a goddamn field day with this.
‘So is this … friend,’ his mother drawled. ‘Another one who’s gonna get her wits about her in due time and run off screaming to another city?’
Amid all her other insults, the low-blow comment about Melanie made Ward feel as if he had been physically slapped, and fresh anger rushed through him.
‘Always a pleasure hearing from you, Mom,’ he managed to reply before his temper got the better of him. ‘But if what I’m doing upsets you so much, maybe send back the cheques I keep mailing. And tell Aunt Helen to mind her own damn business.’
He ended the call and slammed the phone on the countertop, not caring if the stupid thing broke into a thousand pieces. If he had been on the ice this would have been the exact moment he bodychecked an opponent and upended a guy onto the boards.
But he couldn’t do that. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t act out or worse, lash out. That wouldn’t do him any good, and it would put him on the wrong side of Hannah again too.
As it was, he’d done enough.
Ward pulled at his hair as if the action could rip out the conflicting thoughts and emotions his mother had provoked. Then picking up the phone, the latest source of his humiliation, he navigated to his socials and promptly deleted the stupid training video.
Don’t mess this up.
Worried now that Hannah had seen the video clip, taken it as yet another stupid stunt and written him off as a lost cause altogether, he called her number again, desperate to explain that it had been an ill-advised move that hadn’t stemmed from him.
And more importantly, that it was gone.
Though he knew enough about the internet to know that this stuff was never truly ‘gone’ and these things always came back to haunt you. Regardless, Hannah would know what to do, how to handle this, how to rescue this.
Assuming she still wanted to.
He would be seeing her today anyway at that podcast thing, but still disconcerted by Irene’s take on that stupid video, Ward wanted to reassure himself – or more to the point – wanted Hannah to reassure him, that he hadn’t messed up. That he hadn’t blown it already.
Still, she didn’t pick up. He checked his watch. The working day had already begun now so the only reason she wasn’t answering had to be that she was screening her calls.
Damn . . .
Again, he was forwarded straight to voicemail whereupon Hannah’s smiling voice told him to leave a message.
And for the second time that morning, Ward slammed his brand-new phone down on the countertop, his mood once again dark as pitch.