Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(54)

“Oh man.” Castro shakes his head.

“What?”

“You got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one Leo gets whenever Georgia walks into the room. The one that O’Doul—who claimed he’d be single forever—got when he started seeing Ariana. The look.”

“You’re drunk,” I grumble. “I’m going to be single until the end of time. Just like your grumpy ass.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Let’s go!” O’Doul calls out just then. “Let’s watch some tape, kids!”

I head for the video theater in a hurry because there are more hockey players here today than there are seats.

But just as I’m trucking down the hallway, someone calls out. “Bayer—can I talk to you for a second?” It’s Doc Herberts.

“We’re supposed to watch tape.”

“I know,” he says with a grin. This will only take a minute.” He beckons me into his office.

“Hey, Doulie!” I call to our captain. “Save me a seat?” My teammate nods, and I follow Herberts into his office. I sit down, taking care to hide my wince.

“How’s the knee?” he asks immediately.

“Sore,” I admit. Doc is no fool. “But I’m wrapping it well, icing it frequently, and I’m careful to warm up.”

He nods, because this is stuff that every decent athlete does, anyway. “We’ve been discussing your MRI,” he says. “How many years has it been since your ACL reconstruction?”

“Almost fifteen.”

“You know that most ACL patients eventually develop arthritis.”

“Yeah, you’ve said.” That means pain and stiffness. But an arthritic knee is still functional.

“Your scans show some meniscal wear, too. The unevenness of the cartilage may be your major source of pain. So, it’s possible that a meniscal repair could make you more comfortable. The problem is that we don’t know until we try it.”

“Because it might be the arthritis?” I guess.

“Exactly.”

I think that over. “How big a surgery is meniscal repair? How long would I be out?”

“Well…” The doctor hedges. “It depends on what they see when they get in there. The more cartilage they remove, the longer the recovery time. But you’d be off the roster for at least two months. Potentially longer.”

Shit.

“So, it’s something to watch. We have to stay on top of it.”

“Right. Okay.”

“If your pain changes or gets worse, speak up.”

“I will,” I say, even as my heart drops. I can’t afford time off the ice. My team is positioned to go all the way this year, and I won’t let them down without a fight. Then there’s the issue of my contract extension. I can’t even think about that right now.

“Now go kick a rookie out of your seat and watch some tape.”

Two minutes later I’m back in the tape room, sliding into a seat between O’Doul and Castro.

“We’re hitting the tavern later,” Castro says under his breath. “Gonna get into some trouble. Start the season off right.”

“You know it,” I say as the screen in front of us blinks to life. It’s going to be a great season. We have some teams to beat and some things to prove, though. And I intend to be there when it happens.





19





Alex





One of my life skills is fooling people into thinking they have my attention. Peter Whitbread—the blowhard who serves as my general counsel—is sitting across from me with a to-do list as long as my arm. And I’m nodding in all the right places.

Or at least I hope I am. Because my baby was kicking a moment ago, and I’m far enough along now that I could feel it—a little whisper of sensation in my belly.

Kick again, sweetie. I’m listening.

She’s being coy, now. Figures.

I’ve made it to week nineteen. Bingley tells me that my daughter is the size of a cucumber.

“…contracts which alter our exposure to libel as interpreted by the seventh district court.” The CFO takes a breath.

“Excellent, Peter,” I interrupt. This man could go on all day. “Is there anything pressing, though? I have to be across town in an hour.”

Frowning, he flips his notebook closed. “Well, I was looking over your charts in preparation for the board meeting. I see that the pre-orders for the Butler aren’t really sufficient to cover such a large marketing budget.”

My blood pressure doubles immediately, because Whitbread has been the most vocal opponent of The Butler, and he shows no signs of shutting up. “The pre-orders are irrelevant, because there aren’t any reviews for the product. Once the tech bloggers start to test it, that’s when the buzz begins. We shouldn’t even look at pre-orders for another month.”

Then he asks the question that’s guaranteed to make me insane. “What does your father think?”

“I have no idea,” I snap. “And it’s completely irrelevant.” My father spends the bulk of his time on his VC firm in California. He’s still on the board of ECM, but that’s his entire involvement.