Chapter 4 - Reese
Reese
“Thank you all for meeting me,” Holly said to van der Berg, McAvoy, and me. “And thank you, Coach, for generously providing your office for the occasion.”
He grumbled, arms folded over his chest. “I’d rather sharpen the entire team’s blades on my teeth than sit in that broom closet of yours. Smells weird. No offense. You smell nice.”
She stared at him with a wide-eyed, somewhat stunned smile.
“Uh, thank you. As I was saying, it’s time to implement our proactive media strategy.
The team’s comprehensive win against Montreal Canadiens means we’re closing in on the playoffs.
What we do from this point forward will determine whether we go in as favorites or not. ”
“Did you guys see the headline about Cross?” van der Berg practically beamed. As if he wasn’t a walking headline himself. “The kid’s going places, I’ll tell you that.”
“Cass said he has a… whatchamacallit… tagline. On the Google.”
“Hashtag,” I helped out, barely keeping a straight face as I met Holly’s eye. “He had a trending hashtag after the game. On Instagram.”
McAvoy frowned at me. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it? Holly, you'd better see to it his rookie season is taken care of.”
“Already on it,” she replied with a nod. “And I’ve set up time with you and Bob to discuss that, but today’s briefing is about how we’re going to win the public’s favor through transparency.”
Holly launched into her ideas for the next few months and what she needed from us to pull it off.
My mind kept drifting. First to van der Berg sitting next to me, who still hadn’t breathed a word about leaving.
Then, weirdly, to my dad and the look on his face when I told him I’d flunked out of pre-med.
Not that big a deal, considering I was already enrolled in a top-tier physio program. Ready to make that lemonade, as they say. But to a family of doctors, I might as well have announced my involvement in an underground drug cartel.
“So your role, Reese—” Hearing my name snapped me out of it, and I straightened in my chair. Holly went on. “You’ll be working closely with the team to monitor their fitness. You’ll hand your reports to Niels, who’ll see that I get them before I run the press releases ahead of big games.”
“All of ‘em are big games,” McAvoy said without a shadow of humor.
Holly nodded politely. “Yes, once we hit the playoffs, the workload will definitely increase.”
“I have a question.” I raised my hand as if we were in a classroom, immediately felt like a fool, and lowered it quickly again. “Van der Berg usually runs fitness with the players. I do the patching up, and whatever.”
A beat. Probably them trying to figure out whether it was a coincidence, or if I’d orchestrated the truth coming out. They exchanged looks, then van der Berg cleared his throat and shifted forward in his chair.
“I suppose it’s time you knew,” he started, hands steepled away from him like he was giving a sermon. “I’m moving to Gothenburg in a month. Frolunda HC.”
“Sweden?” I hadn’t seen that coming. “I know you’re always complaining about the Texas heat, but don’t you think that’s overkill?”
They laughed, and van der Berg’s posture relaxed a little. “I feel bad for abandoning you at such an integral time, but my new contract requires a significant handover period. Couldn’t get around it.”
A cushy job in Europe. I’m sure he didn’t try very hard to get around anything that was gonna delay it.
“Management won’t be filling the position immediately,” Coach said with a stiff nod in my direction. “But they’re fine to let you take over as interim head trainer once Niels leaves.”
“I suggested giving you the role from the start to mitigate disruption during the transition of Niels leaving,” Holly explained.
I mirrored their calm collectedness. Just a group of adults having a normal meeting. Inside, though, I was jumping up and down like a little kid. And dying a little. Because, at the risk of repeating myself, what the fuck?
Head trainer for The Surge. Interim, for now.
But they’d be crazy not to make it official after I got through blowing their socks off.
And head anything was way better than just an assistant, which was how my dad introduced me to people.
His other daughter, who didn’t work at the family practice because she was just an assistant somewhere else.
“What goes into my report?” I asked, eager to get off on the right foot and knock this gig out of the park. “Just so I’m sure you have everything you need.”
Holly seemed pleased to have me on board. “Well, the angle we’re taking is a promise of total transparency to the fans. An insider’s look at The Surge’s path to the Stanley Cup, so to speak. That means, um…” She looked to van der Berg for help.
“Physical metrics, on-ice stats—always a crowd pleaser,” he said with a grin.
“Then you’ll have conditioning data, and I like to include personal observations for each player, too.
What I’m focusing on, any tweaks I’m making to their training.
A nice touch.” He leaned back in his chair, but shot right up again.
“Oh, and injury status. I almost forgot.”
My heart leapt into my throat. He must’ve read something off the dead-ass blank wall of a stare I gave him, because he continued explaining even though I didn’t need it.
“That’s just listing current injuries, rehab progress, match fitness, protective measures, that sort of thing.”
I nodded, mouth suddenly dry and thoughts racing. In my mind, there was a placating smile, but I couldn’t be sure if it ever reached my face.
Now was the time to tell them about Theo.
After my exam the other day, it became clear he was dealing with a little more than nothing, as he put it.
If his condition worsened, he’d be out of the game, and they’d be coming down on me for it.
For keeping it quiet. There’d be no promotion, and very likely no more job with The Surge.
“I know it’s a lot more admin than you signed up for,” Holly said. She was still wearing that encouraging smile. “But if you end up being head trainer and physio, then this’ll be the perfect crash course, because admin will be part of your daily bread over here.”
“Yeah, of course, that’s… that’s totally fine. That’s great, which is better than fine. It’s awesome, in fact. Better than all those other ones.”
I knew then that I had to talk to Theo. Talk to him, and somehow convince him to come clean to McAvoy. It was the only way.
“Okay, well, that’s good news,” Holly said brightly. “I guess that’s it, then. I’ll let you guys get back to it.”
I walked out with her, not for company but because that was just how it worked out.
I was a useless liar and, by extension, a horrible actor.
What if Theo refused to talk to McAvoy? How the fuck was I supposed to keep his shoulder a secret?
I could take it to the coach myself, but then I’d have to explain why I hadn’t said anything sooner.
If Theo were with me, he’d help me sell it as a recent development, and everything would be fine.
“He talks about my broom closet when he has the pick of the arena,” she complained, “but chooses to have his office adjoining the locker room.”
The baked-in reek of rubber, sweat, and testosterone wafted down the short hallway leading from McAvoy’s office. My days were steeped in the unique scent, which I mostly ignored. I only picked up on the smell now because she’d mentioned it.
“Say the word, and I’ll help you stage a coup on that forgotten room of crap,” I said, staging a laugh for what it was worth.
“Don’t tempt me.”
We cut a path to the exit, picking through dirty towels, stray water bottles, and the odd sweaty sock.
“Do they ever clean this place?” Holly grimaced. Which was hilarious considering she was in here regularly, either for business or pleasure.
I was about to tell her that clean-up usually happened once all the players had left, but that thought got me thinking that if it wasn’t clean, that probably meant there were still players here.
Which then made me look up, because there was nobody in here when I’d arrived for the meeting.
And it was funny how my haphazard train of thought often led me to the craziest things, because there was Theo at his locker, back toward the room, negotiating his way forward with a fresh t-shirt.
Holly sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Looks like someone took a beating during practice.”
“I'd better check on that,” I said, jumping at the shot to speak with him alone. It wasn’t a complete lie, anyway. The loud, purple bruise on his shoulder was very much the reason I wanted to talk to him.
It was, after all, my job. Now more than ever.