Page 93 of Ice Cold Hearts
It’s a forced peppy day. Great. Just great.
I shrug noncommittally. “It was a team effort.”
“Your team played a fine game today, Son,” Dad says flatly.
That’s about the highest praise I’ll ever get from him.
“Just fine?” Mom interjects. “You were amazing! The other wives at the officers’ club almost didn’t believe me when I said that my baby was playing on national TV at brunch, and?—”
A rap on the door draws my attention. It’s Alexei.
“Hold on, please, Mom. I have to mute you for a second,” I say, hoping it doesn’t set her off.
At my nod, Alexei steps into the office.
“Management wants to have dinner with us,” he says.
“Us?” I ask.
“You, me, Oliver.”
“Are you sure you have that correct? They usually only want the team captain and coach for the last away game dinner.”
His tone is grim. “They were very clear, just the three of us and management.”
“Gee, I wonder what that’s going to be about,” I say sarcastically.
“A true mystery for the ages,” he deadpans.
“When do they want us? For that matter, where do they want us?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Cliff’s suite, and five minutes ago.”
I’m grateful to have an excuse to get off the phone with my mother in the state she’s in and avoid the inevitable hours of semi-manic information overload. It’s even nice to have someone else to blame so she’s less likely to guilt trip me. Unfortunately, the people to blame are team management, which means I’ll have to deal with them and their ceaseless meddling tonight as well.
Things had been going so well tonight, too.
I sigh and unmute the call. “Sorry, I have to go. The team management wants to have dinner with a few of us, and they don’t like being kept waiting.”
“Of course, Son. Face time with the higher ups after a win like tonight is a good thing. I’m sure they’re considering moving you up the ranks.” Dad nods approvingly.
Moving up to what? It’s not like there are too many places to go after getting to be a first line player.
Shut up, Ian, I scold myself. He’s trying.
“But I had so much to tell you. Can’t you skip it?” Mom whines.
“Now, Anna—” Dad starts.
“They’re working my baby to the bone.” She sniffs dramatically. “But far be it from me to stand in the way of your career. Goodbye, Baby Boy.”
Then she ends the call before Dad and I can even say goodbye to each other.
“Sounds like she’s doing better,” Alexei comments. “That wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time I heard you end a call with her.”
“They’re trying a new medication for her, but it also helps that there’s someone else for her to blame other than me.” I shrug. “But thanks for saying so.”
“If you care, I care,” he says. “Anything else you want to say about it before we go deal with the head of the toenails?”