I shot off a text to the doc as I walked out into the corridor.
Me
All checked in. How about you?
Doc
I’ve run into a problem.
Me
What problem?
Doc
Can you talk?
I nodded at Noah Boden, our goalie, who had just come out of the room next to mine.
“You heading down for a bite to eat?” he asked.
“It’s only four o’clock.”
NoBo frowned. “So?”
“You go ahead. I’ve got to make a call.” But where to make it? This entire floor was filled with players.
I hovered around the elevator bank until the doors closed on Boden, then I took the other car to … where, where? The spa. All I needed was a quiet spot to talk. I found it in the sauna, which was unattended and really fucking hot.
I called Franky.
“Hello?”
“What’s going on?”
“Beaker threw a fit and made me late leaving. Then the car broke down, and I had to call AAA for a battery boost, so I was a couple of hours late. I’ve yet to check in.”
Shit. “Where are you now?”
“In the underground parking lot of the hotel.”
The players were going to be swarming the lobby any minute, looking for food and company.
“Stay put. I’ll meet you down there.”
Five minutes later, I found her and her sensible Honda Civic in the parking lot. She unlocked the door, and I slid into the passenger seat, then took a moment to slide it back so it was less cramped.
“Hey.”
She released a breath, and was it my imagination, or was that relief in her expression? I liked that. I wanted to be the guy who saved the day.
“I’m sorry. I know that under the radar is better and I really have no reason to be here that would pass muster—are you sweating?”
“I had to call you from the sauna. Listen, we can figure this out.”
“I suppose it’s possible most of the players don’t know me at all. But if I ran into Hatch …”
“You won’t. You’re gonna go in there and check in.”
