Page 21 of Icebound

“What the hell?” Cruz shouts, jumping from the bench. “Why’s she in jail? Put her on speaker right the fuck now.”

Patty slaps the side of his head. “Stop talking. We’re listening.”

“Calm down, Ro. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Wyn says on the line. “I’m fine. I got myself out. No record. Anyway, what were we talking about? Can I borrow your jersey for a Jocks in Socks frat party next weekend?”

My sister almost gives me three aneurysms by the time she finishes talking. Every time I chat with Rowyn, I swear I age a decade.

Her wild nights make my weekend naps look like a documentary on snails, which is why I need someone in the same life stage. I can’t imagine Nina calling me up to ask if she can borrow my jersey for a party.

“Tremblay!” Coach strides into the locker room with her mouth in a flat line. “Camille wants to see you in her office.”

Camille Bernard is one of the top sports agents in the industry, and after the way she handled the Tenerife Incident, I’d trust her to fly a plane blindfolded.

“I’ve got to go, Wyn,” I say. “Coach just walked in, so I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you most!” she says before hanging up.

I stride over to Coach Watson. As I approach, she nods to my leg. “How’s the knee?”

“Good,” I lie. There’s a slight twinge, but there’s no chance I’m admitting that when it’ll only start more retirement rumors.

Coach purses her lips. “Go see one of the PTs before you talk to Camille. We need you to be playing in top shape since your contract’s up this season, and you’re hesitating a split second before dropping into butterfly. Stop pushing yourself to the limit, or I’ll pull you, so you’re forced to rest. We need you focused.”

The pressure of her words settles on my shoulders, but I’m used to the weight. Still, it’d be nice to have someone to lift it off every once in a while. “I’m always focused.”

“Good.” She slaps my back. “Stretch and then find Camille. She seemed excited to tell you about something.”

After stretching and showering, I’m ready for bed, but when I round the hallway with Cruz droning on about his latest hook-up, I find Camille walking up to me with her black curls bouncing. My agent could run for office in her navy suit, and she’d win.

“Tremblay. Come with me. Now.”

“Someone’s in trouble.” Cruz winks. “Hey, Cami. Am I in trouble too? I feel like I’ve been a very bad boy. I could use a spanking. Make it a hard one.”

“Keep flirting with me, and I’ll file a sexual harassment claim to make you stop,” she retorts in her typical no-nonsense tone. “Unless you have a vagina hidden under your jockstrap, I’m not interested. I’m taking Tremblay from you.”

She nods her head, and I fall into step behind her as we pass the Hall of Fame jerseys. I glance over my shoulder to see Cruz dry humping the air before I roll my eyes and turn back around.

“Is he dry humping the air again?” Camille asks.

“Yeah.”

She keeps walking forward. “Stop dry humping, Cruz, or we’re circling back to that harassment claim!”

“Sorry, you know I’m only joking!” Cruz calls from behind. “You’re my favorite, Cami.”

“Excuses, excuses,” she mumbles.

“What’s going on?” I ask as we round another corner. “Please tell me it’s good news and not another old scandal that’s resurfaced on social media.”

Her heels click on the tile. “Not here. We’ll talk in my office. I’ve got a call scheduled that I want you on.”

I hold open her office door, letting her stride inside. She takes a seat behind the giant glass desk. “What’s going on?”

She taps her nail-colored nails on her keyboard. They’ve got frosted tips. “Here. Read this.” She turns the computer screen to show me an article online. I scan the headline.

Rhode Tremblay and Mystery Girl Save ¡Vamos! CMO Andrea Peña's Son After Asthma Attack Post-Car Crash.

I stiffen as I read. ¡Vamos! is big time. They’re famous for their all-natural protein bars and have commercials in the Super Bowl. The buñuelo flavor is addicting. I once ate six of them after a game.