22. Leo
Leo
Iknock on the door of Coach Tremblay’s office.
“Come in.”
When I open the door, he’s frowning at his laptop screen.
“Sorry to bother you.”
He shuts his laptop and waves me over. “It’s okay. Have a seat.”
I sit down in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“What’s up?” Coach asks.
“I have kind of a weird question.”
He smiles. “Okay. Shoot.”
“Do you know if the team would be open to hiring someone to help out the physios?” I ask.
“I know they’re pretty overloaded being down a guy.
Would they want to hire an assistant or maybe a part-time person?
Someone to help keep the training rooms organized and clean, take care of the equipment, help the physios with their day-to-day tasks, that sort of stuff. ”
Coach Tremblay scratches his jaw, his gaze turning thoughtful. “That’s a good idea. I’d have to ask them first, but I’m sure they’d say yes. They’ve been pretty swamped, and I know they’d be thrilled to have the extra support.”
“I know someone who’d be interested in applying for that position,” I say.
Coach Tremblay’s eyebrow quirks up. He grins. “You came here with an agenda, huh?”
I clear my throat, nervous that he thinks I’m being sneaky, but he just laughs.
“I’m kidding, Peretti. I like the initiative you’re showing. And that you’re paying attention to the team staff. It’s a great quality for a player to have.”
I let out a breath, relieved. The truth?
The whole reason I’m here is for Lucy. The other night, when she told me that one of her dream jobs was to be a massage therapist, a light bulb went off in my head.
The physiotherapists massage the players on the team as part of our recovery and physical therapy.
It’s not the same as working at a spa, which is what she wants, but at least it’s related.
And it would be way better—and safer—than waiting tables at the strip club.
That protective feeling inside of me rises up. She doesn’t even like working there. I want to help her find something else—something she’d actually enjoy.
“Most players your age are pretty focused on themselves,” Coach Tremblay says. “Even getting them to work more with their teammates in practice and on the ice is like pulling teeth. So it’s encouraging to see a player like you look beyond even that and think of the staff.”
“Thanks. Just trying to be a team player.”
He leans back in his chair and folds his hands over his chest. “Tell me about your friend. What makes you think they’d be right for this job?”
“She has an interest in massage therapy. And she’s a really hard worker. One of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met.”
“That’s high praise coming from you. Your work ethic is impressive.
“She’s more impressive.”
“Does she have a degree?”
“Uh, no. She’s my age.”
“So she’s still in school?” He scribbles something on the notepad on his desk.
“No. She’s never been to college. She has a high school diploma though.”
He looks at me, hesitation in his expression. Determination fires through me. It’s not fair that Lucy loses out on an opportunity like this just because she’s not in school right now.
“She’s really smart. She’s just had a bad hand dealt to her in life. She’s been on her own since she was a teenager, but she’s always had a job. She’s always worked her butt off. She’d be enrolled in college right now if she could, but she’s working to support herself.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his expression turning thoughtful. “We don’t usually extend job offers to someone without qualifications.”
“I understand, but could you maybe make an exception just this one time? Just maybe invite her for an interview and see what you think. You’ll be impressed, I swear.”
He’s quiet again. He starts to speak, but then his phone buzzes.
He looks at the screen. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He answers the call.
“Hey, sweetie. How’s it going?…Yeah, that’s fine.
As long as it’s okay with Kiley’s mom…Sure, just be sure to tell her thanks for me…
.Okay…Yeah…We’ll see…Love you. Bye, sweetie. ”
He ends the call and sets his phone back down. “Sorry about that. Dad duty calls.”
“I didn’t know you had a kid.”
He taps his phone screen. His background is a picture of a little blonde girl who looks like she’s in elementary school.
“Makenna. She’s seven.”
“She doesn’t really look like you,” I say before I can catch myself. My face burns. “Sorry. That’s probably really rude to say.”
But Coach Tremblay just smiles, not at all offended. “It’s all good. She looks more like her mom.”
“Oh, so she takes after your wife, then?”
He chuckles. “We’re not together.”
“Oh, sh…” I stop myself from cursing. Goddamn it, I’m an idiot. “Uh, sorry again.”
“It’s okay. It’s a long story that I won’t bore you with, but the short version is we’re friends and co-parents. Everything’s good.”
“That’s nice.” I clear my throat, relieved that he’s so laid-back about this. “Sorry again for what I said.”
He shakes his head like it’s no big deal. He folds his hands on his desk. “So, your friend. You really think she’d be cut out to work with the physios?”
“Yes. I really do.”
“I’ve got a meeting with them tomorrow. I’ll run it by them. If they’re into it, I’ll let you know. Then your friend can come in for an interview.”
“Thank you, Coach. I really appreciate.”
We stand up, and I shake his hand. I leave his office, feeling hopeful that this will work out