Chapter 5
RAKE
“Well, fuck me sideways. Vince has lowered the boom on your sorry ass,” Tyler laughs, spilling Dorito dust down the front of his shirt.
“God, you’re a pig, Ty,” I say, as he brushes off his shirt onto my sofa. “Anyway, Vince doesn’t get to lower the boom on anyone. He’s just following the directions of the higher-ups. You know, the people who could trade me off to another team.”
“Do you think they’d really do that?” Jonas asks, shifting his kid on his lap.
I shrug. “Doubt it, although he seemed pretty serious. And we saw what happened to Harrington last year. They’re not too sentimental about getting rid of guys they don’t like.”
“Yeah, but he was playing like shit. You are not,” Tyler says.
“Hey,” Jonas calls. “Little ears here.” He points at the small child in his lap, who’s sleeping.
“It doesn’t sound so bad to me. Go on one date with a nice girl and teach some kids to play hockey. If you ask me, you’re getting off easy,” Tyler says, propping his feet up on my coffee table.
I now see what Vince was going for when he asked me to move my feet off his desk.
And Tyler does have a point. It could be worse, way worse. They could tell me to change bedpans in a nursing home, for example.
Thank God no one thought of that because I am sure Vince would relish driving me there and back.
“So what’s the girl like? How’d they find her?”
“She bid on me at that charity auction thing. Two thousand dollars. The hilarious thing is that she tried to back out, claiming she waved her paddle to swat at a fly.”
Jonas busts out laughing so hard the little one stirs in his lap. “Dude, she got one look at your ugly mug and was like no thanks.”
Tyler frowns at me. “Someone paid two thousand dollars for you? No fucking way. In fact, you probably have to pay her two thousand dollars for a date. Wait till she gets a load of your little dick. Then she’ll really want her money back.”
He and Jonas high-five each other over their brilliant jokes.
“You guys are so goddamn funny,” I say, rolling my eyes. “The thing is, I don’t want to go out with her, either.”
Tyler looks serious. “Oh. Is she... you know… unattractive or something?”
Typical Tyler. He likes beautiful women, exceptionally beautiful women. Like, supermodel women. The funny thing is, they don’t like him back. I bet he can’t even remember the last time he had a date.
“Actually, she’s nice-looking. Brown hair, kind of girl-next-door. You know? Like pretty without trying too hard?”
I don’t tell them she’s hot as fuck. There’s no reason to, especially since I will go out with her once and never see her again. I don’t need them all up in my ass about a gorgeous woman.
Tyler guffaws. “So you mean about a thousand percent classier than your typical girl?”
I flip him off.
“She doesn’t sound bad. Maybe not your usual type, but it’s not like she has two heads. What’s the problem? Aside from the fact that she can’t stand your ass?” Jonas asks.
“I just… I just don’t want to be coerced into anything. Whether it’s a date, or teaching hockey. You know me. I’m a stubborn asshole. I hate anyone telling me what to do.”
Even when it’s the best thing for my career, apparently. As much as I hate to admit it, Vince has a point. I’ve just about used up all the goodwill the team’s going to grant me. I can’t fuck up again.
Problem is, I’m not sure I can stay on the straight and narrow. It’s just not my style. I’d have to stay at home, never go out, avoid beer—basically turn in a hermit.
And I would certainly never get laid. That goes without saying.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I confess.
Shit. Why did I just say that? These guys might be my buddies, but I don’t let anyone know when I am having doubts about myself. I just don’t.
I went through enough of that when I was a kid. Didn’t work out too well for me.
“I say suck it up, Rake. Go out with the girl. She can’t be worse than the last psycho you dated,” Tyler says.
“Vince told me she’s from an old San Francisco family. She has money or something.”
Jonas nods. “That’s great news. Rules out a gold digger right from the get-go. Gotta love that.” His daughter stirs in his arms and he pulls a bottle out of his backpack.
I don’t know how the man does it. Raising two kids without their mom, and he’s never caught without a diaper, a bottle, a toy, or any of the other shit that little ones require.
He crosses the room, holding the baby out to me. “Can you hold Cece? I gotta take a leak,” he says, thrusting her into my arms without waiting for my answer.
As he does, her bottle slips from her mouth, falling to the floor with a thud, and she wails like a klaxon horn.
“Jesus, Rake. You gotta keep the bottle in her mouth,” Jonas calls over his shoulder.
I balance her into the crook of my elbow with one arm and grab the bottle from the floor with the other. The minute it’s back in her mouth, the screaming ceases.
Thank fucking God.
I look down at her angelic face. Nobody knows this, but I am a sucker for babies. I may give Jonas shit about not wanting to hold his kids, but truth is, I enjoy it. “Hey, now I know why babies are fat. You just have to keep feeding them to keep them quiet.”
Tyler’s watching me from across the room. “I’m not sure that’s true, man. They store fat or some shit. Like for their growing brains.”
What? How the hell does Tyler know anything about babies?
He sees the skepticism in my eyes. “It’s true. I read it somewhere. Go ahead and Google it.”
I’m not going to Google anything about fucking babies.
But I might Google Petal Parker, since a text from Vince just arrived, informing that me I’m meeting her tomorrow morning for coffee.