Page 15 of So This Is War
“If yours didn’t, mine sure as hell did,” OC says.
“What the hell could that be about?” Taters asks, looking concerned.
“I don’t know, but will you come with me and hold my hand?” I ask.
“Fuck, no.” Taters shakes his head. “You’re on your own.”
I glance over at OC, and he shakes his head as well. “Sorry, man. That’s a you thing.”
“And here I thought you were my friends. My family.” I push my chair in and head down the hallway toward my coach’s office.
Sure, I might be a thirty-two-year-old man with plenty of life experience under my belt, but that will never change the fact that I still want to weep into my pillow when my coach demands I join him in his office. From college to professional, I’ve always feared the dreaded office visit because nothing good comes from it.
Nothing.
It means they’ve found out about something you did, and you have to sit there and get lectured and berated about how you need to be a better example. How you need to be a better representative for the team.
Like, don’t fuck your teammate’s sister.
That was college.
Don’t get wasted the night before a game and sit your bare ass on the coach’s car windshield that’s covered in snow.
Also college.
Don’t run around the locker room naked and towel-whip your teammates in the ass.
That was last season before the playoffs, and to be honest, the zip in the ass propelled us to win the Cup . . . so once again, some thanks would be appreciated.
I probably have two solid years left on the ice, but that doesn’t lessen the anxiety ramping up in my chest over what Coach Wood will say to me.
I have this sick and twisted feeling in my stomach about what’s going to happen.
I very much want to do anything to please my coach because that’s how I was raised. Respect your coach, do what he says, don’t fuck up.
Well . . . looks like I’ve fucked up, and I don’t know how.
It’s not like I’ve fucked anyone recently, which is what most of my infractions are, despite not mentioning them above. I fuck the wrong person, and it comes back to bite me in the ass.
The reporter.
The opposing team’s social media manager.
The owner’s wife.
Oye, that one nearly got me kicked out of the league.
But in my defense, I wasn’t aware of these things, and it wasn’t until later that I found out my dick was in the wrong pussy.
The very wrong pussy.
But this can’t be that. Lately, I’ve developed a difficult case of blue balls.
So what could it be?
When I reach his door, I give it a knock only for him to yell, “Get your ass in here.”
Yup, dick is completely shriveled.
