Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I move to the free weights myself, selecting a much more reasonable load, ten pounds each. “I know you’ve been fined three times already this season and we’re only in October. Last year, you were suspended twice. I know your first three PR representatives quit within six months.”
“Maybe they weren’t cut out for the job.”
“Or maybe you made their jobs impossible.” I start my own biceps curls, determined to keep pace with the conversation. “That commercial shoot wasn’t an isolated incident. The training shoe deal that fell through? That was you too. The community outreach event where you told a group of kids that hockey was too violent for kids who acted like ‘pussies’? Also you.”
His movements become more aggressive, the weights clanging together at the top of each rep. “Those kids needed to hear the truth.”
“Those kids needed a role model, not a lecture on toughness from someone who can’t control his own temper.”
He stops mid-rep, setting the weights down harder than necessary. “You want to psychoanalyze me now? Add therapist to your list of qualifications?”
“I don’t need to psychoanalyze you. I need you to show up and do your job without making everyone else’s job harder. It really shouldn’t be that difficult.”
“This is my job,” he says, gesturing around the gym. “I don’t care about the noise.”
I finish my set and face him directly. “The commercial shoot is Thursday. It’s for the league, not a private sponsor. You can’t walk away from this one. You can’t show up late. You can’t tell anyone to go fuck themselves.”
“And if I do?”
“Then you’ll find out exactly how creative Langley can get with disciplinary measures. And that likely means you not being able to help the team win, which it sounds like is the one thing you actually do care about.”
We stare at each other across the weight rack.
“You think you’re tough?” he asks finally.
“I think I’m necessary.”
He picks up heavier weights. “Let me ask you something, Turner. What happens when your fancy journalism background runs head-first into the reality of professional hockey? This isn’t some boardroom where you can ask pointed questions and watch people squirm. This is blood and bone and guys who’ve been fighting since they could walk.”
I move to the leg press machine. “I’ve been in plenty of rooms where powerful men thought they could intimidate me. It never worked out the way they hoped.”
“Hockey’s different.”
“Men are the same everywhere.” I start my leg presses, controlling my breathing despite the burn in my muscles. “They think they can bulldoze their way through problems until someone calls them on it.”
He’s moved to pull-ups now, his form perfect even as his frustration bleeds through each rep. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough.” The weight feels heavier with each rep, but I push through. “I know you’re talented enough that everyone’s been willing to overlook your behavior. I know you’re good enough that you think the rules don’t apply to you. And I know you’re scared that one day, your talent won’t be enough to cover for your attitude.”
Grizz jolts and drops from the pull-up bar, landing with a thud that echoes through the gym. “I’m not scared of anything.”
“Everyone’s scared of something.”
“Yeah? What are you scared of?”
The question hits differently from what I expected. I finish my set and stand, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “I’m scared of watching someone throw away everything they’ve worked for because they’re too proud to accept help.”
For a moment, the only sound in the gym is the hum of the ventilation system and our labored breathing.
“You think that’s what I’m doing?” he asks.
“I think you’re so used to fighting everyone that you can’t tell the difference between an enemy and an ally.”
His watch beeps. “I gotta shower and get home to pack before the roadie. Workout’s over.”
And with that, Grizz beelines it toward the glass doors. Just before he exits, he looks back at me. “Turner, one other thing…”
“What’s that?” I say.
“Next time you want to work out, bring your own gear. The stuff you have on is for Vipers players only.”
Chapter 6
Grizz
The Westchester County Airport’s private terminal is straight out of a billionaire’s fever dream. I pull my Escalade into the VIP lot, noting the collection of luxury vehicles already parked in neat rows. It’s a smattering of Porsches, Maseratis, a couple of Bentleys all in pristine shape and flashy colors.
As I’m grabbing my luggage bag from the trunk, I hear the unmistakable roar of a Ferrari engine. Tanner’s yellow Testarossa slides into the spot next to mine. The man has zero subtlety, which is exactly why I like him.
“Nice of you to join us, princess,” I call out as he unfolds himself from the driver’s seat. “Thought maybe you got lost counting your endorsement checks.”