Page 183 of Revenge Puck

Be alone, think this through.

The man who hurt me is the same man who let twenty kids climb all over him at story time at the library, answering their ridiculous questions as if they weren’t the silliest things anyone has asked him. Drops in to visit sick kids in the hospital without anyone knowing.

The same man who whispered in my ear and sends shivers down my spine.

Maybe that’s the worst part of all: I don’t know which version of Aaron Bishop is real.

I’m terrified it’s both.

THIRTY

AARON

I’m fucked.

Not in a fun, orgasmic way.

No. It’s the ego in the gutter, a woman I care about thinks I’m a bottom feeder, I may have lost something I seriously started to care about kind of way.

So, yeah.

Here I am—standing outside human resources, a man about to voluntarily walk into a penalty box and slam the door behind himself.

I’ve been to human resources maybe two, three times in my career—once for a contract formality, once because a rookie thought it was funny to Venmo request several veteran players for “emotional scarring” after a bit of innocent hazing.

Little pussy.

Management didn’t find it nearly as funny as we did. Whole thing escalated, and I ended up in an office signing a statement confirming it was a joke—not harassment, not bullying, not a lawsuit waiting to happen.

This has been the extent of my relationship with corporate.

Until today.

I push through the glass door and hesitate, unsure what to do. I’m not usually in this part of the building unless my agent is accompanying me—and usually there’s a catered lunch.

“Hi.” The guy gives me a quick smile, fingers clicking away at the keyboard. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I need to speak to someone in charge.”

He nods.

Click, click click…

“And you are?”

I stare at him.

There are framed team photos on the wall. A life-size cardboard cutout of me in the lobby downstairs. My face has been on the side of a bus.

“Aaron Bishop.” I feel my nostrils flare.

His fingers touch the headset on his head. “And you’re with…?”

“With the team.”

“Right,” he says. “Of course. And what can we help you with today, Mr. Bishop?”

I shift my weight, already regretting every life choice that brought me here.