Chapter 4
Ash
I feel like my head is weighted down with lead balls the next morning. The alarm clock on my nightstand makes three different sounds of increasing urgency when it goes off, and it’s on the last one of its cycle, which tells me I’ve been out of it through the first two.
I hit the off button and reach for my phone. I unlock the screen, pull up my text messages…and I’m immediately presented with a picture of my own dick.
Fuck me sideways. Who did I send a dick pic to last night?
I had trouble falling asleep and took one of those high-powered sleep aids they warn you not to take when you need to drive or operate heavy machinery. I don’t use them anymore regularly, but I have a few left over from the last time I filled the prescription, and I was desperate.
I squint at the screen. My just-waking vision is still blurry, but as soon as I make out the G-r-a at the top of the text message screen I groan. I sent the pic to Grace, my ex-girlfriend.
I consider sending an apology text with an explanation, but in the end, I just delete the text messages and pray she doesn’t respond.
The last I heard, she was dating someone from one of those superhero franchises, but I don’t remember which one.
I’m not even sure if it’s Marvel or DC, but it doesn’t matter.
Hopefully Grace has enough…well, grace, to just delete the pic and pretend I never sent it.
Our breakup was amicable, so I’m reasonably sure the pic won’t show up on TMZ, but I broke a cardinal rule of PR by sending it. Maybe I can plead diminished capacity with Cedric if something happens.
I shut down the message app and sit up. I’m groggy and can feel my heartbeat in my head. I remember now why I stopped taking these pills.
I swing my legs out of bed and head to the shower.
I need to be at the rink in an hour for weight training, so I better get my ass moving.
Unfortunately, I have a raging case of morning wood I need to take care of first. I don’t remember dreaming last night – I never do when I take those pills – but something clearly has me hot and bothered this morning.
Half an hour later, I’ve jerked off, I’m dressed, and I have my protein shake in hand as I head out the door.
I couldn’t tell which way Dr. Mackey was leaning yesterday when I left. She was clearly reluctant to help, but I swear I saw her start to crack when I turned on the puppy dog eyes. They’re my superpower. I didn’t check to see if she’s married or not, but that look works on all women.
I understand why she doesn’t want to work with me.
She’s afraid she can’t help, and she doesn’t want to let me down.
What she doesn’t understand is that she’s my last hope.
The sport psychologist at Tampa tried to help me and failed miserably.
We tried everything: visualization, ignoring the trash talk, positive reinforcement. Nothing worked.
When I got to Connecticut, Kaladin immediately set me up with the sport psychologist here, but that guy was even more clueless than Tampa Bay’s doc. He tried to convince me I was being overly sensitive and told me I just needed to toughen up.
I’m not crazy about the idea of letting yet another person try to fix me, but I’m out of options. I don’t know anything else but hockey, and if Kaladin cuts me loose, I’m not sure what I’ll do with my life.
Honestly, the fact Dr. Mackey is so reluctant to help is almost comforting. If she agrees to work with me, maybe she’ll be willing to try some out-of-the-box ideas rather than sticking to the old psychological standbys. I don’t know why, but I have a good feeling about this.
Well, I do this morning anyway. Last night I was stressed and anxious enough to take one of those pills, and now I’m praying Grace just rolled her eyes and deleted the dick pic I sent her.
It’s not like I want her back. She and I had a good year together before we started fighting, and it all went downhill from there.
Trying to make things work long-distance was a strain on us both, and it was a relief when our relationship ended.
Why my drugged-up brain decided to send her a pic of my cock, I’ll never know.
I get to the rink with minutes to spare, park in the garage, and double-time it up to the locker room.
“Hey, thought you were gonna miss weights today,” Kelsier says as I dump my bag on the bench.
“Overslept,” I say. “I feel like I got hit by a train.”
“Heard from that professor yet?” he asks.
Zane Kelsier was the first guy to come over and welcome me to the team when I joined the Hydra this year, and we hit it off right away. He’s my best friend here and the only person I told about my meeting with Dr. Mackey. He’s a defenseman, an inch taller than me and a year younger.
“Not yet.”
“But you think she might be in?”
I shake my head. “No idea. I heard how much money Kaladin offered her, and I can’t imagine anyone turning that down, but who knows.”
He pauses. “What are you going to do if she doesn’t agree?”
“No fucking clue.”
Kelsier’s been trying to help me out by chirping at me on the ice whenever he gets the chance, but it’s just not the same as when the opposing team does it. There’s no real sting to it, and half the time he just makes me laugh.
“Kelsier! Gunnarsson! Get your asses in the weight room!” the strength coach shouts as he pokes his head into the locker room.
Kelsier and I snap to attention and hurry to follow him.
“What’s the professor like?” Kelsier asks as we hurry after the coach.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t get much chance to talk to her. She seemed a little annoyed I was there.”
“She hot?”
I shrug again. “Not really. I mean, I guess she was pretty enough. She looked young, but she was dressed kind of frumpy.”
Kelsier frowns. “No tight pencil skirt? No black stilettos? Not even a blouse where her breasts are straining against the buttons, begging to be set free?” he asks, his tone growing more disappointed by the word.
I chuckle. “Dude. No, none of that. You got a teacher fetish I don’t know about, Kels?”
He cocks his head. “Let’s just say I had a professor in college that made me want to come to class every day and sit in the front row.”
“Let me guess,” I say as we enter the weight room. “You got an A in that class.”
“Fuck no. I got a C,” he says. “I couldn’t stop imagining her lips around my dick. I didn’t hear a word she said all semester.”
Ash
Two hours later, Kelsier and I are done with weights, and we’re showered and ready for lunch. We’re just heading out when I hear a voice call my name.
We turn to see the PR guy, Cedric, hurrying toward us. He’s a slim black man with closely buzzed hair and a chinstrap beard. He’s wearing a suit with just the vest and not the jacket.
Cedric stops in front of me and Kelsier, and we look down at him. Normal people always seem so small after I’ve been in a room full of pro hockey players. Our defensemen average 6’3”, and Kingston, our starting goalie, is 6’7”. The shortest forwards on the team are 5’10”.
“What’s up, Cedric?” I ask.
He looks uncertainly at Kelsier, and I assume he has news about the doc that he’s wary about sharing in front of others.
“He knows about the doc if that’s what this is about,” I tell Cedric.
He frowns but then nods. “We heard back from Dr. Mackey,” he confirms. “She agreed to work with you. We’re just waiting for her to return the signed contracts after the university’s lawyers look at them, then you can go ahead and meet with her.”
My heart soars at the news. I know she hasn’t done anything yet, but just the thought she might be able to help makes me feel lighter than I have in days. Shit, it’s like the girl I just asked to the prom said yes.
“Awesome, man,” Kelsier says, giving my arm a light punch.
“Wait, is she supposed to come here, or should I go to her office?” I ask Cedric. “I assume I still shouldn’t be seen in public with her?”
Cedric sighs. “There’s only so long we’ll be able to keep this under wraps, but for now try to stay out of sight.
Going back to the university isn’t a good idea.
Maybe go to her place or yours first? If she insists on somewhere public, you can meet her here, but be discreet.
The more people who know about her, the more likely the story is to get out. ”
“Will do,” I say, and Cedric hurries off.
I pull out my phone and text the doc.
Ash
Heard you agreed to work with me. Thank you
Ash
PR dude says we should stay out of public places. Come to my place Thursday night after dinner? Is 7pm too late?
I text her the address, and I see the three dots jump around as she types out a reply. They stop, and I wait, but no text comes through. They start up again for a few seconds then stop. Still no response.
“She reply yet?” Kelsier asks.
“She’s typing, but she hasn’t sent anything yet.”
“Maybe she’s rethinking her life choices,” he jokes as I shove the phone back in my pocket, and we head for the food court.
“Fuck you,” I say with the hint of a grin.
My phone pings, and I pull it out again. It’s not Dr. Mackey, though. It’s my sister, and I shove it back in my pocket.
“What did she say?” Kelsier asks.
“It wasn’t the doc. It was Inga. She wants me to call her.”
“And you’re not going to?”
“Fuck no. She just wants to ask me if I’m bringing someone to her wedding, and if I say no, she’s going to try and set me up with one of her friends.” I pause. “Or she heard about my fight with Lapointe and wants to ream me out. Either way, I’m not calling her.”
“And she’s going to let you ignore her?” he asks.
“Of course not. But that’s a problem for Future Me to deal with.”
Kelsier chuckles. “Future You is gonna be pissed at Past You.”
I roll my eyes. “What else is new?”
My phone pings again, and I swear as I pull it out. “If she thinks-”
I cut off my rant as I see who the text is from.
“It’s the doc,” I say. “She agreed to come to my place Thursday.”
Kelsier claps me on the shoulder. “Congrats, man. You’re on your way to recovery.”
I feel a strange mix of relief and trepidation. I’m relieved Dr. Mackey is on board, but I’m uncertain she’ll be able to help, and if she can’t…
No, I can’t think like that now. Dr. Mackey will fix me.
She has to.