38. Colby
THIRTY-EIGHT
Colby
Novi’s gone when I wake, but I don’t think anything of it. He probably went to the gym before needing to hit the ice for practice, and now more than ever, it’s important that we don’t arrive or leave the arena together unless it’s on the team bus.
It’s not until I get to my office that something feels … off. Ackerman isn’t where he should be, considering we have a game tape meeting in half an hour. He should be here cutting tape and preparing for it.
Instead, our corner of the building is empty.
I dump my laptop bag and head for the video review room in case I got the time of the meeting wrong, but that’s empty too. The hallways are filled with players and some office employees, but all the other coaches are nowhere to be seen.
Not even the other new assistant coach, Nowak.
Now, paranoia creeps over me that I’ve forgotten a coach’s meeting, so I rush to Whelan’s office and open the door without knocking because I’ve forgotten my manners, and I’m also half expecting them not to be in there, but they are. All of them.
I pull up short, just sticking my head in. “Did I forget about a meeting? Am I late?”
Coach Whelan stands, his eyes wide like I’ve walked in on something I shouldn’t have. And if all the coaches are in here except for me, maybe I have. Maybe they’re talking about what bad a job I’m doing or … fuck, what if they’ve found out about Novi and me?
Where is Novi? I was too focused on Whelan’s office door to take a look around the locker room on my way through.
“Come in, come in,” Coach Whelan says.
I step inside the room, and that’s when my eyes also land on the GM, HR representative, and Novi, who were hidden in the corner of the room.
“And close the door behind you,” Coach Whelan says.
I’m so fired.
I don’t dare glance at Novi because while I’m sure they already know about us, if they see the way I look at him, even for a second, they won’t even need to ask me my side of the story.
Not that I have an excuse when they do. It’s not like saying, “Novi is as every bit irresistible as he thinks he is,” is a good enough reason for sleeping with someone I’m supposed to be coaching.
Neither is “New coaching technique I thought I’d try. You should try it too!”
“Take a seat,” Whelan says. “We’re sorry to spring this on you. We, uh, have a bit of an unusual situation happening, and we’re still working out how to handle it.”
I bite my tongue so I don’t immediately break down and beg for my job.
Novi lets out a boisterous laugh. “Do not scare the man. He looks like he’s expecting to be fired or something. Don’t worry. This is a very good thing.”
The HR representative, a nice middle-aged woman called Kirsten, glowers at Novi. “Please, Mr. Novicov. We spoke about you remaining silent.”
“Is … is there a reason why everyone is here for this?” I ask.
Whatever this is. I trust Novi enough not to worry, and his reassurance that this is a very good thing does ease my mind, but what has he gone and done?
I’ll yell at him later for blindsiding me again, but I can only focus on saving my career in this moment.
“Witnesses.” Ackerman muffles his amusement.
Kirsten turns to Whelan. “I think this would be better handled without a large audience.”
Whelan turns to my fellow coaches. “You’re excused.”
They look like they want to complain, but they get up and leave silently until only Novi, Whelan, the GM, and HR rep remain.
As much as I trust Novi’s word that this is a good meeting, it’s hard not to freak out at the seriousness of the situation. Though Novi doesn’t appear serious at all. He’s smiling—the type of smile everyone can see.
The thoughts running through my head are a lot—everything from they’re about to fire me to they’re offering me a job in their affiliate AHL team to this has nothing to do with me and Novi at all—and I try not to let them get away from me.
Because there’s no way to know what the fuck is happening until they tell me.
I’m still ninety percent convinced it has to be about our relationship, but if that’s the case, how can Novi look so unbothered if my ass is about to get fired?
Still, I try to remain as motionless as possible, even if my leg is itching to bounce and I want to bite my nails, something I haven’t done since I was playing hockey.
“This is a delicate situation,” Coach Whelan says.
“It’s not delicate,” Novi says. “I’m telling you, Coach Kessinger will want to date me just as much as I want to date him.
There’s no need for the human rights person to be here.
Kessinger and I are friends, and he won’t hold it against me that I am very attracted to him and want to ask him to be in a relationship with me.
I have never had one before, and if Kessinger really is gay, then he will obviously be attracted to me too. ”
Kirsten tsks. “Mr. Novicov, again, please do not speak.” Then she lowers her voice. “And I’m from Human Resources, not Human Rights.”
Novi’s mentally ticking off Kirsten’s name in his notes app.
I’m both horrified and trying not to smile. Because he went and did this without giving me a heads-up. Again. But I’m starting to get the impression from what I can piece together that he hasn’t let any real information get out. Yet.
In fact … it almost sounds like he’s throwing himself under the bus.
“If you haven’t understood all that,” Whelan says, “with Novi having come out, at least to the team, he, uh …” He shakes his head. “This is going to be difficult to say without it coming across as inappropriate—God, what am I saying. This is a walking sexual harassment case?—”
“I’m confused.” I’m not even lying.
Coach Whelan continues. “We need you to know that no matter what happens here and what you decide, nothing will affect your employment.”
“Okay.” I draw out the word.
“Novi is under the impression there’s something between you two, and he has come to us to ask for permission to pursue that, but we can’t allow that to happen under our franchise.
A coach and a player … we’ve never had to deal with this kind of situation before, but if it got out, it would not look good to the public. ”
I think I’ve finally worked out why we’re here. “So you’re saying that can’t happen, and we should keep our professional distance from each other?”
“Look at how disappointed his pretty face is!” Novi throws his hands up before Kirsten turns to him sharply.
“ Radimir .”
He mimes locking his lips.
“No, we’re saying …” Coach Whelan looks at Kirsten for help. “Are we really sure this is even legal?”
She chokes over her words for a moment. “Who knows anymore? Here’s the deal. Novi wants to date you, but because we said no, he has asked for a trade.”
My gaze snaps to his. “You did what?”
Kirsten doesn’t let him answer. “But until we know if that’s even a possibility?—”
“I already told them it was,” Novi says. “I am sexy gay man. He is sexy gay man.”
“Can we trade him anyway?” Kirsten asks Whelan. “It would make my job a lot easier at this point.”
I shift in my seat. “You want a trade?”
“Da. I want anything that will give me a chance to make you happy.”
Well, fuck. I refuse to look at him too long because there’s no way they’ll miss how in love with him I am. “So you want to know what my answer would be if he asked?”
“Yes,” Kirsten says slowly.
“As much as it pains me to admit Radimir Novicov is in any way right, if …” I meet Novi’s eyes. “If he were to ask me out, it would be difficult to say no.”
I can tell it’s not what Whelan wants to hear.
He hangs his head. “So, we’re looking at a trade. Even though the optics of that would be horrible right after Novi came out.”
“I could say no,” I add. “If I had to. But isn’t there some kind of HR form we could sign to say we wouldn’t hold the franchise liable or sue for sexual harassment? Those are things, right?”
“They are,” Kirsten says, “but it’s more than that. It’s about the team’s public image, and if it comes down to a sex scandal or a trade of a gay man who only recently came out, the latter would be more acceptable to the public.”
I don’t know whether to be offended by that or agree. Sexual harassment should be taken seriously in the workplace, but the idea that the perception of homophobia would be easier for the franchise to recover from doesn’t sit right.
We’ve come so far as a society, but we still need work.
Novi leans forward. “I had an idea about the trade, if anyone wants to hear it.”
If I were him, I wouldn’t have worded it like that because it’s obvious by the scowls on everyone’s faces that the answer to that is no.
“Great,” Novi continues. “As you all know, I started my career playing for Anaheim. They’re at the end of a rebuild, but they’re not there yet. I would love it if my last year as an NHL player could be spent with the team I started this whole journey with. And that could be the media spin.”
The GM, Hank Walter, who hasn’t even said a word since I entered the room, says, “They won’t give us any of their forwards who are of the same caliber as you. You might be old, but you’re Radimir Novicov, Stanley Cup champion twice over and the owner of a lot of NHL records.”
“I am not old.” Novi pouts.
“Their goalie bench is deep,” I say. “They have some amazing rookies who would be ready to step into that permanent backup role, and we could use that. Dotrosky only has one or two good years left as a starter, and there’s no way Pike is going to be ready.
He’s an okay backup, but we need someone who’s going to be our next big star goalie. ”
Hank rubs his chin.
Whelan looks to him for an answer.
My hope actually grows because if Novi could move teams—to Anaheim, so close to here—we would be allowed to be together, and?—
“We’ll work out logistics,” Hank says and stands. “Until then, do you think you can keep the same level of professionalism you’ve had?”
“Same level?” Novi asks, hiding that cheeky smile of his behind his hard features. “I will behave. But I can’t say the same for Coach Kessinger. Now he knows I am interested, he won’t be able to stay away.”
Coach Whelan turns to me. “Are you sure you want to date him?”
“Honestly, I’m asking myself that same question, but unfortunately, I’ve been curious about the man I half fell in love with seventeen years ago.”
Hank mumbles, “You two better get married to make this migraine worth it,” as he leaves.
Novi looks triumphant. “Who knew GM was a romantic?”