Chapter 66
JORDAN
I sit at my desk, staring at my phone, summoning the courage to make a simple little phone call.
Fuck it.
“Jay Choudhury,” he answers.
“Hey, Jay.” I bite my bottom lip. “This is Jordan Hathaway.”
“Jordan!” I can hear the smile in his voice. “How the hell are you? You’re with the Storm now, huh?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good for you, Hathaway. I knew you had the chops.”
He’s just being nice. The team won the second I left.
“What can I help you with? You need another winger?”
I laugh. That was Jay’s old position in the NHL. “No, but there’s something else I wondered if you’d be interested in.”
After a successful call with Jay, I head downstairs to the gym, where Rory’s working out with his trainer. On the way, I say hello to everyone I pass, using their names, which I’ve learned from meetings and employee files.
“What’s up, J-dawg?” Rory says.
“Don’t call me that. You’re on thin ice after that big-check dinner bullshit.”
And I suspect they have something to do with the Noah kiss cam thing, but I can’t prove it.
He smirks. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. Of course I had fun. I always have fun with Tate.
“I was wondering if I could grab your dad’s contact info.”
He gives me a curious look. “What are you up to?”
“You’ll see.”
A few minutes later, I return to my office to call NHL Hall of Famer Rick Miller.
“This is Jordan Hathaway with the Storm,” I say when he answers. “I was wondering if you wanted to play hockey again.”