Chapter Fifteen

THE MEETING at Gabe’s house was quick. Monica teased Troy about Shane for five excruciating minutes, as he expected, and then they got down to business. Gabe planned to have a long conversation with Stu Hargett, and Monica gave them some pointers about how to deal with the next few weeks and drafted a press release that would go into effect as soon as Quinn was out of the picture.

It basically said that Shane North, former Ravens player, was retiring to take the vacant position of Assistant Coach, previously filled by Brian Quinn. They’d say that Quinn left for personal reasons, and if Quinn went through with his plan to denounce Troy for his relationship with Shane, the spin would write itself. At least according to Monica, it would.

Troy hoped it didn’t come to that. He wanted Quinn gone, but he didn’t have any deep-seated need for revenge. Quinn had made a mistake, and he was going to pay for it. That’s all that really mattered as far as Troy was concerned. Gabe also seemed to think that, when presented with his options, Quinn would see he wasn’t going to get anything he wanted and would choose to save his own skin and simply vanish.

Shane was quiet when they left the Bows’ and only responded to Troy’s attempts at banter with slightly acerbic barbs. Something was wrong. So when they got home, Troy grabbed a couple of beers and said, “Let’s go work on the puzzle.”

Normally that would make Shane complain, but he acquiesced way too easily. Something was definitely wrong. Troy wanted to push, but in the end, he opted to work on the puzzle and let Shane speak up when he was ready.

Sure enough, after muttering, “This fucking thing is stupid, and I hate it. Also I think you’re hoarding all the edge pieces,” Shane finally admitted what was bothering him. “Troy, what do we do if Hargett fires you?”

Troy shrugged. “I’ll get another job. But I don’t think that’ll happen. If it were a possibility, I think Gabe would have suggested another route. I know him. Sneaky goalie. You can keep jamming that piece in there, Shane, but it’s not going to make it fit.”

“If you come up with some kind of corny puzzle metaphor, I swear I’ll hit you.” Shane tossed the piece away. He stared down at the table. “What if we don’t work out, Troy? You and me, I mean. What if we’re really terrible at being in love?”

“Well, I think we’re both too contrary to give up. Don’t you?” Troy smiled at him even though Shane didn’t meet his eyes. “But if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”

“It’s a risk, though. You know?” Shane looked up. “Coaching together, being together. What if too much togetherness drives us both crazy?”

“You already drive me crazy,” Troy said.

“I meant in the not-fun way,” Shane clarified.

“Who said I didn’t?” Troy laughed at the heated glare Shane shot him across the table. “If I need some space, I’ll tell you, and vice versa. Honestly, Shane? I’ve never been in a relationship before because they always seemed to take too much work. But despite what anyone might think after being around the two of us for more than ten minutes, it’s not that hard with you.”

Shane stared at him, and then he smiled. His smile turned into a grin, and then he laughed. “Wow, Troy. Wow. You really are like two seconds away from a corny puzzle metaphor, aren’t you?”

“You mean how you’re the most difficult puzzle I’ve ever solved?” Troy asked as he pushed back from the table and got to his feet.

“You haven’t solved me,” Shane scoffed, and he also stood up. At that rate they’d get the puzzle finished in approximately sixteen years.

“Good,” said Troy. “That’ll keep things interesting. At least you don’t look like a Dalmatian.”

“You worry me, Cally,” Shane said, but some of his tension seemed to ease. “This could end up a fucking mess.”

“It could,” Troy agreed, and he backed Shane up so he could press him against the wall. “But we’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t. I’ll call Coach Samarin and ask him for some pointers. How about that?”

Shane laughed, but Troy wasn’t kidding.

WHEN HE went to meet Gabe and Quinn, Troy wore the same suit he’d worn to his interview for the assistant coach position with the Rangers. It was nicer than the ones he usually wore to games, but he wanted to make a statement.

Quinn was smiling and talking easily to Gabe when Troy showed up and took his seat. If Troy didn’t know that Quinn was a lying sack of shit, he would think he’d hallucinated that whole blackmail thing. Quinn gave him a half wave, and Troy wondered if the dumb son of a bitch thought he was going to leave the office as the new head coach of the Ravens.

“Good morning, Coach,” Quinn said.

Troy didn’t bother to respond.

“I won’t beat around the bush,” Gabe said after they both sat down. “We’re here to discuss some personnel changes that need to be made in response to your attempt to force Coach Callahan to quit his position due to his relationship with Shane North.”

Quinn wasn’t quite quick enough to hide his surprise at Gabe’s bluntness. “Uh… what?” His laugh was shallow and clearly forced. His face quickly turned a dull shade of red.

“You heard me. Don’t play dumb, Quinn. It might have worked up until now, but it’s not going to do anything from this point forward but piss me off. You thought you could threaten Troy because of his relationship with North, and it’s not going to work.”

Quinn’s affable expression tightened. “These are serious allegations. I’m going to want a lawyer present if you’re accusing me of something just to get rid of me. Not to mention, I’d like to speak with Mr. Hargett.”

“That’s not a problem,” said Gabe. “I spoke with Mr. Hargett this morning, and in fact, he’s waiting for me to call and is willing to speak with you—and a lawyer, if that’s what you want. He supports my decision, and he has all of the facts, Quinn. No one is lying to him. He knows about Coach Callahan and Mr. North, and that you’ve attempted to use this information to get yourself hired as the head coach.”

“…I think you must have made some mistake, Mr. Bow.”

Oh, Mr. Bow now, was it?

“Have I?” Gabe asked, and his neutral tone changed to one of disgust. “He also knows that you were more aware of the situation in the locker room last season than you reported. I’d think through your options very carefully if I were you right now, Brian.”

“I can practically hear the hamster wheel in your brain turning,” said Troy, unable to help himself.

Gabe gave him the “would you stop” look and continued. “Brian, let me tell you your choices here. You can resign and leave this team without saying a word, or you can go through with your ridiculous plan to discredit Troy, and you’ll be fired. Either way it’s up to you. If you choose to resign quietly, you’ll hear nothing from the team or our lawyers. If you choose to try and drag this team into a shitstorm after I fire you, that’s your choice, but I have to tell you that it won’t do any good. We’ve already taken the necessary steps to make a brief announcement about why Shane is retiring, and the front office is committed to supporting Troy as the head coach of this organization. Am I making myself clear?”

Quinn was quiet, so either his manipulative little brain was coming up with some way to spin things to his advantage or he was fuming.

“You’re not as good at blackmail as St. Savoy,” Troy informed him. “And I’m not twenty-fucking-five years old either. And Shane never considered, even for a second, staying in the closet because of you. You underestimated him more than anyone.”

Gabe’s warning glare to shut up was a little more fierce. “If you want to spare yourself some tiresome legal proceedings and save a shred of dignity, Brian, I’d resign today and move on.”

“How do I know you’re not bluffing?” Quinn asked Gabe. “About Callahan coming clean, about Hargett, about any of it? For all I know, you haven’t called anyone.”

Jesus, was this guy serious? Troy still couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea of anyone going through that much Machiavellian scheming to get a coaching job.

“You don’t,” said Gabe. “But you’ve made some serious errors in judgment so far, so whatever you think is likely, it’s probably the opposite.”

“He could never coach again,” Quinn said as though Troy weren’t right there next to him.

“Try to start shit, and you definitely won’t,” said Gabe, and it was obvious he was also starting to lose his temper. It took a lot to rile up a goalie—well, most goalies, unless they were Isaac Drake or Patrick Roy. But once you did, watch out. “You’ll look like a homophobic manipulative bastard, just like St. Savoy. And he has two Stanley Cup rings and can’t get a job, so I doubt you’re going to fare any better.”

Quinn didn’t even so much as glance at Troy. “Then I’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”

Troy was relieved that he wasn’t going to have to do a press conference about his personal life, which held as much appeal as a bag skate. Quinn might be lying, of course, and might go straight to the media. But Troy didn’t think he would. Hopefully this would be the end of it.

“You’ll be out of here today,” Gabe corrected. “No excuses.”

Quinn just nodded and stood up. “I’ll have my resignation letter on your desk in an hour,” he said stiffly.

“Email it,” said Gabe. He had the full-on goalie stare going on now.

Troy stood, stretched, and yawned facetiously. “We done here? I have a practice to run later.”

“We’re done.” Gabe stood as well, but he didn’t offer to shake Quinn’s hand. “I’ll phone Stu and let him know about the personnel change.”

Troy almost wished he could tell Quinn that Shane was getting his job, but he didn’t want to rock the boat when things had gone so smoothly. If anything might prompt Quinn to say “fuck it” and go for full-on sabotage, that might be it.

As they left Gabe’s office, Quinn turned to him. “It wasn’t personal, Callahan,” he said, as though that were some kind of apology. “It was just business.”

“Of course it was personal,” he said. “You’re an idiot if you think it was anything else.”

Quinn shrugged. “It could have gone worse. I’ll just say we had differences of opinion about the team, and everyone knows you’re an asshole. They’ll imagine I couldn’t take your attitude and went looking for another position.”

“Gee. Are you going to try and put me in a death trap now that I know your evil plan?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Callahan. I tried something, and it didn’t work. But there are other jobs, and the thing is, you can’t say a word about me if I keep my mouth shut about you and your boyfriend. So the way I see it, this one was a loss, but that doesn’t mean the next one will be.”

“All this effort, and you could have taken a few coaching classes. But I guess that’s just too hard, huh?” Well, that and Troy doubted it would help. All the classes in the world wouldn’t give Quinn the passion he needed. Not if all he cared about was the money and the… whatever else he cared about. Troy had no idea. Certainly not fame. No one got famous coaching minor-league hockey anywhere in the country, much less the South.

Oh, well. Quinn was no longer his problem. Maybe Troy would burn that stupid dry-erase board in effigy.

Quinn shrugged again in response to Troy’s comment, but Troy didn’t buy the nonchalance for a second. He half expected to go out later and find his tires slashed. “Like I said. It didn’t work this time, but that was always a possibility. I’ll survive.”

“They do say that the only thing to survive the apocalypse will be cockroaches and Twinkies,” said Troy agreeably. “Too bad they’re both disgusting.”

Quinn left quietly, but as far as last words went, Troy was pretty pleased.