Chapter 37 #2
I force myself to take some deep, cleansing breaths. The last thing I want is to end up having the cops called on me because I got in an altercation with Mitch. Pushing my way out of the car, I pocket my phone and lock up. I’m parked on the street a block away from his niece’s business.
As I jog toward Waterson Logistics, I briefly wonder if Mitch is a dick to his family too.
He has no remorse for forcing his players to cheat on their girlfriends and packs.
After his party, the team was shell shocked and refused to speak about what happened.
Instead, we threw everything into the ice, which I expect is what Mitch wanted.
Fuck everyone else’s free will, right?
Goddamnit, I’m getting all worked up again. The glass door is opaque as I open it, and the guard desk is empty. I’m not going looking for trouble when I’m already in the thick of it.
My shoes squeak as I cross the marble floor and the directory board tells me where Waterson Logistics is.
Mashing my finger on the elevator call button, I force a mask of indifference over my face.
It’s a lie, and I won’t be able to carry the charade for long, but it’ll help me keep my shit together.
My heart manages to sync up with the way the elevator floor shudders as it moves, and I find myself disassociating as I step out onto the sixth level.
A glass door says Waterson Logistics and my hand twists it open. A fresh faced blonde woman sits at the desk and while she appears a little frazzled, her smile is kind.
“Hi, can I help you?”
“I need to speak to Mr. Ancherson, please. He’s expecting me.”
The bastard isn’t doing any such thing. Sometimes you have to fake it until you make it.
“My uncle didn’t mention it,” she muses. “I’m sitting in to allow our receptionist her lunch break. Let me check. Name, please?”
“Of course. Troy Evans.”
A shadow moves over her blue-eyed gaze, and I wonder if she recognizes my name. I wait against the wall, knowing I won’t be able to keep my cool if I sit. I can barely hear her as she speaks to her uncle, though I note that she visibly flinches several times.
Yep, just as I thought. Mitch is a douchebag to his family too. At least he’s consistent.
“I’ll take you to his office.” She looks a little pale as she straightens the sleeves of her dress and I shake my head, smiling gently. That’s the thing: I don’t allow my anger to spill out onto others if I can help it.
“I’m capable of finding it. Point me in the right direction?”
“Okay. I’ll buzz you in. Go straight back and take a right. It’s the second office on the left. He’s really mad.”
“Your uncle isn’t a great person. I don’t know how you ended up working together, but I suggest you find a way to oust him from your company. Everything he touches becomes tainted.”
With that tidbit of information, I leave her to stride toward the heavy steel door that separates the reception area from the rest of the office.
The beep is understated as she pressed a button, and my muscles feel the weight of the door as I pull it open.
It reminds me of a doctor's office, but I have no idea why they would need this kind of security, especially when the guard desk is left unmanned downstairs.
While the reception office is well appointed and done in pretty florals, the rest of it reminds me of any other offices I’ve ever been to.
I follow her directions, frowning as I find Mitch’s door open.
He’s speaking to the woman who probably is on her lunch break, his thumb smearing her bright lipstick as she sits on his desk with wide eyes.
“If you were busy, you should have had me wait longer,” I drawl.
The woman gasps as she turns, and I notice the tears on her lashes, as well as how flushed her skin is.
Whatever they’re doing has nothing to do with me, but I’m sure his niece won’t appreciate it.
“I believe your niece could use the help of the receptionist instead of having her shoot the shit with you.”
Or sucking your cock. I bet your cum won’t keep her full through the rest of her work day.
Nope. I won’t say any of that, though he wants to fire me for supposedly inappropriate behavior.
“Oh yeah. I have to go, sir.”
Mitch leans back to give her enough room to escape, and I watch as she begins to hurry out.
“You might want to fix your lipstick,” I mutter as she passes me. Her eyes grow wide with horror and I ignore her as I raise my brow at Mitch. “We should discuss some things.”
“My dick isn’t on the internet, but sure, let’s do that,” Mitch drawls.
He doesn’t bother to fix his open fly as he rolls his chair underneath the desk.
“I don’t have a problem with my players getting their dick wet, but this will affect attendance as we get ready to play another season, Troy.
Your contract is very clear about keeping your nose clean. ”
“That’s not a new photo, Mitch. It was taken three years ago when I was assaulted by a fan. Are we victim blaming?”
“I don’t think your rape kink has anything to do with me,” Mitch snorts. “Your lawyer has been breathing down my neck since the party I threw. I am releasing you from your contract.”
“You won’t have a team if everyone else walks as well,” I reply. “Drugging and forcing people to fuck is against the law.”
“Just because you suck a lawyer’s cock doesn’t mean you are one,” he chuckles. “It’s a shame no one else will hire you. Your talent is fucking wasted. You’re a washed up hockey player.”
“I don’t need hockey to be happy.” I’ve been meeting with Dr. Mac Cárthaigh once a week, though my appointments are different from Alisa’s. He works with her to find her voice, while we battle my demons together.
My self worth took a major hit while I was married to Ella, and it never really bounced back. Her love was wrapped up in whether or not she was happy with me, and thereby fluctuated from day to day. I walked on eggshells when I spoke to her, and then she threw me away.
Public opinion is just as mercurial and while the New Orleans Dragons were happy to keep me on, it wasn’t the same when our coach got sick.
I chose to leave and bounced around like a nomad to get away from my sadness.
I wasted so many years agonizing about Ella, while she used it all to her advantage.
Dr. Mac Cárthaigh asked me if I attract narcissists and I realized some of my family members have treated me the way Ella does. I no longer speak to them, but I’ve become a people pleaser due to this.
I thought if I bent over backwards for them, they’d appreciate me more. Instead, they used this against me. I’ve started escaping this pattern. My voice is valued by my pack. If I want to do something, I do it and vice versa. Nothing is forced.
As for the woman who raped me, I’m discussing the feeling of helplessness with Dr. Mac Cárthaigh and how to deal with it. The issue isn’t being unable to hit someone, I brawl all of the time as a hockey player. Instead, it’s being vulnerable while sleeping. That’s why I have trouble falling asleep.
I trust my pack, and I said as much to the doctor. My subconscious has a difficult time accepting this. My therapist has worked the scene backward and forward and admitted that the best way to move past this is through reaffirming I’m in a safe place.
I know I’ll get there, but in the meantime, I’m anxious to start my life. Even if it means not having hockey anymore.
“Are you sure about that?” Mitch laughs. “You’re a dumb jock through and through.”
“And you’re a sexual predator who will find he’s bitten off more than he can chew one day,” I grunt.
“I look forward to seeing your fall from grace. Get your affairs in order, Mitch. I doubt the league will let you continue to have the team when they find out what you’ve been doing.
I have no affiliation with the Furies anymore since my contract is terminated, yeah?
“Maybe I’ll call my own press conference… Feed the media juicy details of how you run your team. You’re fucking disgusting.”
My lips curl into a sneer as I step out into the hallway, and Mitch stands before realizing he’s stuck underneath his desk. I doubt there was much in his pants to crush.
“Fuck. Dammit. Troy—”
“You took away the only thing I was willing to fight you on,” I snort. “There’s nothing else you can offer me. Mitch, if you’re going to use this as an excuse to cut me loose, that’s fine. However, you’re not getting away scot free.”
My anger just disappears as I say those words and I realize I’m done with this man. I may be a hockey player in my early forties, but I have more to offer the world. I’ll figure it out.
Walking away, I find my way to the reception room. The woman who was blowing Mitch is on the phone, appearing as if she’s actually working, and barely looks up as I leave. I feel better than I have in ages, though I don’t know where I’m going from here.
My phone rings as I get into the elevator, and I answer as soon as I see it’s Lyle.
“Hey, he fired me. I decided I’m not going to fucking fight him on it.”
The button for the first floor is already lit up, and I lean against the wall as the doors close.