“Likehellyou don’t know. You can’t just pull that shit and then storm out of the locker room and not expect me to…”
He’s cut off by a voice behind him.
“Captain, if you've got a second? I'd like a word.”
Well, shit. If talking to the GM in the summer is nerve-wracking, getting pulled by the head coach after a disastrous practice has my stomach plummeting to the ground.
“I get dinner and meet at your apartment, Ethan.” Alexei’s stare tells me there is no getting out of my second meeting of the night.
I follow Ramsey to the front office, where he ushers me into an office and shuts the door behind us. The office is barren — not surprising, since the man seems to spend most of his time on the ice.
“Ethan, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this for you. Are you homophobic?”
I…how do I respond to a question like that?Isthere a correct response? For a moment, I’m in the press room withThe Neutral Zonebreathing down on me again.
“Coach? I…don’t understand.”
Perhaps Carter’s strategy will work here, too.
“Do you hate gay people, Ethan?”
Should’ve known Ramsey wouldn’t fall for that.
“What...what makes you ask that, sir?”
“Do you remember having a conversation with the GM over the summer?”
Do I remember? How could I forget?
“About Carter, sir?”
Ramsey drags his chair over in front of me, sitting so close our knees almost touch. I briefly wonder if the man did a stint at the CIA before his career in coaching.
“That's the one. Now, he didn't ask you this then, because, frankly, he kind of beats around the bush. Or hell, maybe he didn’t want to know the answer. But, Ethan, Ineedto know – do you have a problem with gay men?”
I look at the ground, wondering what the odds are that a sinkhole will form beneath the arena right about now. Seems unlikely.
“Answer the fucking question, Ethan.”
I’ve played hockey for almost thirty years, and before this, the angriest I’ve ever had a coach at me was when I had missed a block in PeeWee that cost us the tournament. The coach — my dad — hadn’t spoken to me for a week.
“I'm not homophobic, sir.”
“Oh yeah? Because I gotta say, that sure is what it looks like. This summer you spouted some bullshit about distractions to Greg, which is pretty much the party line response for men who don't want to play with gay men. And this week, it seems like the only person makinganyattempt to welcome Carter to the team is Kovalenko. Maybe Lindholm. Not my captain, not my A's.”
My face burns red at this, true as it is. His body language changes, and his voice gentles a bit.
“Look, Ethan, whether you like it or not, Jamie Carter isexactlywhat this team needs – strong offensive production, fast skates, and, frankly, I don't half mind the press coverage, either. Better than hearing about how we haven’t made it past the first round of the playoffs in almost five years. But we won't benefit fromanyof it if this team can't pull their heads out of their asses for long enough to keep him.”
At this, I look up.
“Keep him? Where would he go?”
“I don't fucking know! But we've had his agent on the phone twice already this week – he's convinced the kid's got his bags packed and is ready to head home to California. And Ethan? If that happens, I will hold youpersonallyresponsible. Because if I gotta choose between a thirty-something defenseman and a generational talent like Carter? You’re not gonna like the choice.”
My gut churns.
“What would you like me to do about it?”
