Chapter Three #3
Mazetti shot a disbelieving look at Breezy’s shoulder, but his teammate was impervious to subtleties.
“Briefly, at prospect camp. Good to see you.” Phil waved in greeting. “I’d get up, but, well.” He gestured toward his knee brace.
Mazetti smiled tightly. “I’m sorry about your knee.”
Phil forced himself to chuckle jovially. “Not that sorry, eh?”
“Well.”
Looking back and forth between them, Breezy realized his error. “Oh, shoot, right. Luca took your spot. Well, this is awkward.”
Mazetti looked like he wanted to murder Breezy in cold blood and then slip in the ensuing bloodbath and hit his head hard enough to forget this entire conversation. Good to see some of the youth had manners and a sense of shame. Phil decided to be the bigger man and intervene.
“Technically, you took my spot,” he said. “Or did I dream you moving up to first D-pair?”
Breezy paled. His mouth opened and shut soundlessly.
Phil let him stew for maybe a minute before snickering. “It’s okay, boys. If I had trouble with younger, less broken guys taking my minutes, I should have chosen a different career. What’s new with the team?”
That got Breezy going. For someone so oblivious, his observations were surprisingly astute.
Apparently, what seemed like a disastrous game to Phil when he watched from the couch had actually been the start of the friendship of the century.
According to Breezy, ever since, Jax and Tom had been “tight.” They sat together on the plane, strategizing plays and trying to trick the coaches into doing different drills.
Phil used to sit with Tom on the plane.
“It’s weird,” Breezy summarized, “because I thought Cap wasn’t friends with anyone but you, and it’s also weird because he and Jax are, like, really obviously managing Coach Morris.”
“It is odd,” Mazetti agreed. His deep, soothing voice surprised Phil. Maybe that was why Mazetti seemed older than his years. “I have had many coaches before, and none of them would accept being told what to do.”
“Hm.” The whole thing made Phil feel uneasy. It was out of character for Tom, forming friendships with other people, let alone someone as outgoing as Jax. But the coaching situation concerned him more. “How has Trout been?”
Breezy made a face reminiscent of a baby sucking on a lemon.
Mazetti said, “He is…a very classic coach, isn’t he?”
“Sure, let’s call it ‘classic.’ Has Morris…”
“Morris only intervenes when Jax and Tom talk him into it.”
Phil thought of how Ben had been when he’d bullied his way into Phil’s spare room—firm, direct, unyielding, but, at the same time, caring.
The last one wasn’t exactly what he expected of a coach, but the first three sure were.
Why would Ben act so differently at home?
And why didn’t he call Trout out? He’d all but said he disagreed with how Trout did things.
A trickle of unease slid down Phil’s back along with the sweat of continued exertion.
He’d started looking into Ben as a way to pass the time, a little project on the side to help out the team and validate his own disagreements with Ben’s coaching style.
But what would he do if he discovered something really wrong?
Something that actually required intervention?
Phil enjoyed being useful and spending his time helping the team, but his skills were limited to the locker room, the ice, and, occasionally, behind the grill. He had no idea what he would do if Ben’s background revealed something more sinister than incompetence.
Again, Phil remembered Ben’s gentle touch and calm guidance in the quiet of his bedroom. The thought of Ben working against the team, against him, chafed against the memory. Why would Ben bother being so nice if he intended on sabotaging them?
Mazetti looked as unsettled as Phil felt.
Privately, Phil doubted he had anything to worry about.
Even if Ben and Trout didn’t know what they had in him—which they would be stupid not to—other teams had seen Mazetti play.
They’d be knocking down his door soon enough.
For now, though, Phil needed to change the subject.
It was never good when even the younger guys on the team felt comfortable questioning coaching choices.
“So,” he said, “you looking forward to the Canadian roadie?”
Breezy brightened. “Yeah! My whole family’s coming out for the game in Montreal, even my grandparents.”
It sounded like a nightmare scenario to Phil.
He got along with his parents well enough, but they were both doctors who had treated his teenage interest in hockey as an amusing quirk.
Until he turned sixteen and got drafted to play in Juniors on the other side of the continent.
His brother Elijah assured him they understood just as little of his day-to-day life even though Elijah had gone to college and gotten a doctorate just like them.
But the thought of spending more time avoiding the topic of everyday aspects of Phil’s job, such as daily workouts and limiting dairy, or, God forbid, prescription drug overuse, made Phil cringe.
Judging by the look on Mazetti’s face, he also couldn’t empathize with Breezy’s enthusiasm at the idea of seeing his entire family.
“Are these the parents who introduced you to the Mafiosi girl?” Mazetti asked.
Phil blinked. “What now?”
Breezy groaned. “So it turns out my girlfriend Vanessa’s family is from, like, the wrong part of Sicily? I broke up with her, but I’m kinda scared she’s gonna have a horse head put on my parents’ doorstep or something.”
“I do not think real people have those on hand.”
Breezy looked to Phil for support, but Phil was inclined to agree with Mazetti on this one.
“Anyway, my mom introduced me to this other girl, Chloe, and we’ve been talking. But we’re only in Montreal one night, and I don’t really want to meet someone I might be into when I could see my family instead, y’know?”
“No,” Phil and Mazetti answered in unison.
Breezy shook his head at both of them. “Anyway, it’ll be lit. I love Canadian roadies. They’re so intense.”
That was one way to put it.
“Make sure you bring something relaxing to do in your downtime. Even if it’s something the guys will make fun of,” Phil told Mazetti. “It’s, what, four games in ten days? The hotels are a mixed bag, and the crowds are insane, and if you do start getting recognized, it’s going to be in Canada.”
Mazetti shrugged good-naturedly. “At least we are not traveling by bus. And the hotels cannot be worse than the one I’m staying in now.”
“You’re staying in a hotel?” Breezy sounded appalled at the very idea.
“Yes,” Mazetti said slowly. “I was called up a week ago. Who knows how long I will stay.”
“Months, probably,” Phil put in.
“Bro, why didn’t you say? I have a spare room. We can be the Italian D-man bachelor pad.”
For a moment, Phil felt bad for not offering himself.
His house had much more space than Breezy’s two-bedroom apartment.
And as amusing as the look of deep concern on Mazetti’s face at the thought of being part of the “Italian D-man bachelor pad” was, Phil couldn’t imagine someone so serious wanting to live with Breezy.
On the other hand, if Phil offered, it would make things weird with Ben.
Either he and Mazetti would be extremely awkward around each other, or he’d leave because Phil had someone else to help him.
Phil didn’t want either. His only chance of getting a better read on Ben was to keep him as relaxed as he’d been this morning in the kitchen.
“Come on,” Breezy cajoled. “I have really great water pressure and super-cool snacks.”
Mazetti sighed. “All right. How much rent will I owe you?”
Breezy waved a casual hand. “No way, man. You’re on an ELC, right?”
Mazetti got a pinched expression Phil recognized easily as a “talking about money” face.
An ELC, or entry-level contract, was nothing to scoff at in the real world.
But in professional sports, the associated lifestyle costs meant spending a lot on staples such as game-day suits, luxury cars, and living expenses in the Bay Area.
It was also just a fact of life that most twenty-one-year-olds were not great at prioritizing their spending habits.
“I will pay rent,” Mazetti said mulishly.
“We’ll figure something out. Hey, you know what we should do after this?”
“What?”
“IKEA trip! It can be our first roommate bonding activity.”
Breezy bounced over to the free weights, apparently intent on getting through his workout so they could get started.
Bonding activity? Mazetti mouthed at Phil. His big, expressive eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth turned down.
Phil shrugged and shot him an encouraging smile.
He gave them a week as roommates. Then Mazetti would be renting his own place, ELC or no ELC.
After Breezy and Mazetti, Hayes and Vanderbilt stopped by and did a few halfhearted cooldown reps while complaining about Trout.
Bitching about the coaches was practically their team tradition, but now Phil couldn’t help but wonder where Morris figured in all their complaints.
Sure, they’d been groaning about Trout for years, and Ben had only started in August. But it was November.
Ben could have used those three months to change things.
When they were gone, Elijah called.
Phil answered on speaker phone, the weight room once again empty and quiet save for the repetitive clang of Phil’s barbell hitting the floor.
“What’s up?”
Elijah groaned. “Susan from next door saw about your knee on some cable sports channel, and now Mom and Dad know it’s a lot worse than what you told them.”