I’ve always had a policy of not dipping my nub in the company ink, and my relationship with our team doctor is strictly platonic, anyway. She shared with me that she’s gay and has a longtime girlfriend, but she prefers to keep her private life private, and I’d never share that, even with Talia.
“You should let me set up a profile for you on a dating app.”
I scoff. “No. I’ve told you, if I wanted to, I’d do it myself, and I don’t.”
“There are good women out there, Dad. You won’t know unless you try.”
I take my glasses off and rub my temples, my aggravation rising. “I don’t want to be in a relationship, Tally. I don’t have the time or the interest.”
“You should find a situationship. Keep it casual and have fun.”
I furrow my brow. “Whatever a situationship is, I don’t want that either. I like my life the way it is.”
“Your call, I guess. Want to go out for dinner with us tonight?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to be here a while.”
She gives me a pointed look. “Hockey will never keep you warm at night, Dad.”
“I’ve got plenty of blankets for that. Have a good evening.”
She sighs and closes the door. I resume my film watching, taking notes. I’m only a few minutes in when I remember I told Jules I’d stop by her office.
I might as well get it out of the way. I already sense that she and I are going to clash often. If I have to, I’ll talk to Deb and have her set Jules straight. I don’t give a fuck about social media videos. The players and the coaches have jobs to do. Not only do our livelihoods depend on it, but it’s how we make the organization money. And it takes a lot of money to run this team.
After shutting off the video, I take the stairs up to the level the front office is on. There’s no one at the front desk when I walk in, so I go back. I know who most of the offices belong to, and it’s not until I turn a corner and walk down another hallway that I find the one I’m looking for: Jules Barlow, Social Media Coordinator.
It’s a newly created position, and a pointless one in my opinion. But due to metrics, online presence, and whatever other bullshit the consultant cited when they recommended this position, we have one now.
The office door is open, but there’s no one inside the office. She probably left early, like most twentysomethings do. It’s always minimal effort and maximum expectations from that age group.
Unless we’re talking about my players. I can still skate and play well enough to school the ones who get lazy, even though my back always hurts like hell that night.
This place seems empty. Most people who work in the front office are in by 7:30 a.m., so I can see why they’d be gone by—I check my watch—4:39 p.m.
There is a coat on the back of the chair in Jules’s office, though, so I check the break room.
She’s there alone, her back against a wall and her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders are heaving and I can tell she’s crying without seeing her face.
My anger dissipates. I walked in on a private moment, and I feel like an asshole. I take a step back, hoping to sneak out undetected, but she drops her hands and sees me.
Her chin falls and I cringe inwardly.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demands, her voice laced with accusation.
“I said I’d come by your office this afternoon.”
She scowls at me, the polar opposite of the agreeable, bubbly woman I met earlier. “Oh, right. You wanted to lecture me about doing my job without asking your permission. Because, of course, you’re a man.”
Black eye makeup streaks down her cheeks. She’s too upset for me to be bothered by her outburst.
“I take it a man upset you?”
She looks away. “Look, you caught me at a really bad time. Can we talk tomorrow?”
I can be a hard-ass, but my players know they can come to me when they need to talk. I’m not one to walk away from someone so upset their voice is breaking with emotion.
I close the door and walk over to her, coming to a stop a few feet in front of her and crossing my arms. “Let’s talk now. What’s got you so upset?”
