Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
He lived in Connecticut and liked to gripe about what a pain in the ass it was to fly into Charleston. There were no direct flights from Hartford so what should have taken less than two hours took twice that or more. Also…I didn’t live in this part of town. We could have met at my place or a coffee shop in my neighborhood, but he’d insisted on meeting in the historic district.
Huh…he wasn’t here for me. He was here for the new client and that was all well and good, but—
“You planned this trip in advance. You knew about this, didn’t you?”
Jeff’s smarmy grin was locked in place. “About what?”
“You knew they were going to let me go. Why else would you so conveniently be available?”
He had the grace not to deny it or even look surprised. “Court, open your eyes, man. I’ve been nothing but honest with you. The writing is on the wall, and it has been for a while. Now, I gotta run or I really will be late. Take care of yourself. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”
“No, don’t bother.” I stuffed my cell into my pocket and flashed a weak half smile. “You’re fired.”
“Court.”
“Later, Jeff. And by the way…fuck off, too.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the Bennett, barely curbing the urge to flip him off and yell a few choice obscenities before striding into the heart of the shopping district. This was a nice part of town and while the students might not be fazed, I doubted the well-dressed tourists would appreciate a show.
Whatever. I lifted both middle fingers in the air and strode away with my head held high.
I wasn’t sure what to do next, though.
I wandered the narrow city sidewalks for hours, alternately berating myself, Jeff, or management, and ended up at the water’s edge, staring at the harbor and Fort Sumter in the distance as if looking for answers.
I composed then deleted messages for a few friends, unsure how to verbalize “My career took a sudden nosedive and I don’t know what the fuck to do” via voice mail to guys who were probably working out and preparing for the next game. I eventually gave up and headed back to my place, feeling like the human equivalent of dog shit.
That feeling stuck with me for days.
No joke.
I tossed and turned at night, ordered a fuckton of takeout, and avoided my cell like the plague. I also drank a lot of beer, ate a lot of pizza, and got lost in reruns of The Office, The Sopranos, and a medley of cooking shows.
Okay, and I watched hockey too. I couldn’t not watch it. It was in my blood. I’d never been away from the game. It was part of me that was so ingrained, I couldn’t fathom losing it. Not like this, lying on my sofa next to a row of empty bottles with a piece of stale crust on a shirt I hadn’t washed in longer than I’d ever admit and my beard overgrown to the point I doubted my own family would recognize me.
I had no idea what day it was, but the aggressive onset of holiday-themed commercials indicated I hadn’t missed Christmas yet, so I had that going for me. But not much else.
I had to scrape myself together and do something—anything. The only thing I could think was… Maybe it’s time to go home.
“Oh honey, that’s wonderful,” Mom gushed.
“Well, not really.” I filled her in on my new unemployed status. “It’s temporary. I mean, I need a new agent, but…I’ll figure it out.”
“Of course you will. Talk to Vinnie Kiminski. He’s running the hockey program at the rink with Ronnie Moore now. Riley Thoreau is part of their team too. I bet those boys could use your expertise. Call them.” She paused for a breath, adding, “Or shall I?”
“No, it’s cool. I got it, Ma.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, Court. I know this isn’t what you want, but life doesn’t always go according to plan. Sometimes we all need a reset. I bet you’ll find your way from Elmwood. And if nothing else, there’s no place like home for the holidays.”
I swiped my hand through my hair and nodded, though the gesture was lost in the connection. “Yeah, right.”
“Hey, now, it’s going to be amazing. Maybe so wonderful you’ll never want to leave. Holiday cookies, holiday music, holiday hockey…”
I smiled into the phone, feeling marginally lighter than I had in days. Sure, slinking off to Elmwood in the midst of a career and possible life crisis was a classic case of avoidance, but so what?
Home sounded really nice right now.
But only for a little while.
2
IVAN
Elmwood was abuzz with the news that Court Henderson was in town. It was a mini event to certain members of the population who were curious about how the years had treated our former prom king and the star athlete our senior class had voted Most Likely to Succeed.