42. Russ
CHAPTER 42
RUSS
I go to shift the ice pack off my right hand so I can text Shannon back, but before I can, Dorrian’s door swings open.
Stony-faced, he gestures for me to come inside without saying a word.
He’s not alone, either. Coach is sitting in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. The assistant general manager in charge of contracts is in the other chair, leaving nowhere for me but to stand.
Which is fine, it hurts too fucking much if I bend at the waist.
Maybe if this meeting was as he first ordered it, ten minutes after the first altercation, it would have just been the two of us. But I escalated the situation pretty badly, and both Tilman and I had to go to medical. He’s still there. More than an hour has passed since Dorrian yelled at me, and now I can see he’s moved on to cold indifference.
The life of a journeyman player.
I’m not surprised at the first words out of his mouth. They could be worse, actually. “We’re putting you on waivers. If you aren’t claimed, you’ll report to our AHL affiliate in Niagara Falls tomorrow afternoon. To say that I am disappointed in your conduct today is an understatement. We had a debate about whether I should just put you on waivers for purposes of contract termination, Russ.”
That would be the worst. And it had been on the table. Fuck.
I nod. “I’ll report to Niagara Falls.”
“If you aren’t claimed,” he repeats, his eyes narrowing.
“Yes, sir.”
“You put your position on this team in significant peril.”
“I regret that very much.”
His mouth tightens. Silence stretches. Then he exhales. “Could I have the room, please?”
I glance at the door.
“You can stay.” He clears his throat. “Coach, maybe you go and find out how long it will take for Tilman to get his ass up here?”
“Will do.”
The AGM follows him out. Even after the door closes again, I stay standing.
“Do you want to sit?” Dorrian asks.
“I’d rather stand, sir.”
“He get you in the kidneys?”
“Yeah.”
“You want to tell me what the fights were really about?”
“I do not.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s personal.”
“That’s a fucking shame. Because I expect you to be professional in my dressing room and on my fucking ice.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“It sure as fuck won’t.” He takes a deep breath. “Have you met my wife, Armstrong?”
Billie Dorrian is often around the arena. “Yes.”
“Do you know who her ex-husband is?”
I shake my head. “I do not, sir.”
His eyebrows lift in surprise. “Well, you might wish you were sitting for this story. She was once married to Jasper Pike.”
I do know who Pike is. He would have played in the league at the same time as Dorrian—a fearsome former defenceman who never hesitated to throw off his gloves.
“He found out just before the All-Star Game one year that Billie and I were having an affair. You should look up the fight on YouTube. It might look familiar.”
I rock back on my heels.
He shakes his head. “You can’t play on the same team as Tilman anymore. And I can’t trade you. I tried to offer you to Calgary today for future considerations and they passed. So it’s down to the minors for you. I hope she’s worth it.” He pauses a beat. “Billie was.”
I don’t bother explaining to him that it never got as far as an affair. It doesn’t fucking matter.
Because the truth is, Shannon is worth it anyway.