Practice has been good all week. We have a couple of rookies on the team who’ve been fun to mess with. This one kid, Tyler, is a total hot-head. I love fucking with him on the ice just to get him riled up. I swear, these rookies come in with such chips on their shoulders. It brings me great pleasure to take them down a peg.

As I’m pulling off my gear, ready for the weekend, I hear two guys in the shower talking about trades. And then I hear my name. So, naturally, I stroll back and turn on a shower, interrupting their conversation.

“Heard my name,” I say. “Know something I don’t?”

Nothing like having a conversation like this while everyone’s naked. It just sort of puts things in a totally new perspective.

“Nah,” they say at the same time.

“I thought I heard my name and the word trade in the same sentence, though,” I say as I soap up. I wash my pecker and balls as I ask the question, just to make it more awkward.

“Just heard they might be making some high-level trades to cut budget. Send high earners off, bring younger guys with lower salaries in,” the one guy says. He shuts off his shower and wanders off, clearly done with this conversation.

“I don’t think it’s true,” the other guy says. “Why cut people who helped lead you to a championship?”

And then he’s gone, too, and I’m left soaping myself alone, with only my own thoughts to keep me company.

Of course, the first thing I do once I’m clothed is call my agent.

The next morning, we’re in Max Terry’s office.

“Good to see you Ned,” Max says. He holds out a hand, a gold watch on his wrist, his shirt cuffs monogrammed.

Ned Saunders, overweight and sweaty, holds out a hand and shakes. I can see the distaste on Max’s face. Ned has sweaty hands. I don’t shake his hand because it’s just disgusting.

“Good to see you, too,” Ned says. “What’s this rumor we’re hearing about trades?”

“On Georg?” Max asks. He looks genuinely surprised.

“On high-cost players,” I say.

“Not sure what you’re hearing or where you’re hearing it,” Max says, “but I’ve got no intention of messing up a good thing. We took a hit when Chalamet retired and replaced him with a couple of rookies. I didn’t go big because I didn’t feel like we needed a superstar. We’ve got you and Evan – the dream team.”

“So I’m not on the chopping block?”

“Not so long as your play stays good and your off-ice adventures are kept to a minimum. I can’t have bar fights and middle-of-the-night calls for bail this year,” Max says.

Ned is picking his way through a bowl of mixed nuts on Max’s office coffee table. He’s literally touching nuts with his bare, sweaty hands, and then putting them back in the bowl. It really is disgusting. I really need a new agent.

He seems to sense me staring at him, so he straightens up and takes a handkerchief out of his jacket, then wipes his sweating forehead before saying, “Georg was part of a winning combination out there last year. Having him on the trade list would be bad for the team.”

Both Max and I stare at him like he’s grown two heads. Did he hear any of the last five minutes of conversation, or was he so completely engrossed in finding the perfect cashew to actually listen and do his job?

“Yes, well,” Max says. “We’ve established that Georg is not on the trade list, Ned.”

“Oh, well, that’s great,” he says.

“Max, I appreciate your time,” I say. “I assure you I will work harder than ever this season. I’ve been working closely with the athletic trainers and am already seeing good progress on my personal health goals.”

“That’s great to hear,” Max says. “We pulled in new staff throughout that area to assure you all access to the best support possible. Nutrition, exercise, therapy…whatever you need, it’s available to you now. We want to double up on the cup, so to speak. So, keep up the good work.”

I shake his hand and wait for Ned to pipe in with some sort of bonus conversation, something about making more money if I have another strong year on the ice. But no. He’s back to the nuts. He basically grabs a handful and shoves them in his suit jacket pocket before waddling out, not even bothering to say goodbye to the guy who has my professional fate in his hands. All I can do it cringe, thankfully receiving a sympathetic look from Max Terry, who shakes my hand as he shakes his head.

“You need a new agent, son,” he says under his breath.

Ain’t that the truth.

As I walk back down the hallway, ready to call Evan’s agent and beg him to take me on as a client, I literally bump into someone. When I look up from my phone, I realize it’s Pam.

“Oh, sorry,” she says. “I was totally texting and walking. Dangerous business.”

I laugh. “Same. Sorry.”

She gives me a little smile and her cheeks darken a bit. Is she blushing? Ugh. She’s so beautiful. Voluptuous with pretty, dark brown eyes. Long blonde hair. Even in that drab uniform they have her in, a stupid polo shirt and sensible shoes, she’s a knockout.

But that ship has sailed, I think. There was chemistry between us, for certain, but she held back. And then it was just awkward at Evan and Holly’s wedding. I couldn’t even get the courage to say hello to her. Like some teenage boy with a crush.

“Are you enjoying your work here?”

She nods. “Very much. It’s exciting to put all that schooling to use finally.”

“The guys are nice to you, yes?” I ask.

“They’ve been great. Really sweet.”

“Probably trying to butter you up,”

“For what? I mean, I’m kind of mean when they’re going through their therapy exercises. They probably curse my name.”

“No,” I say. “No way. They know those exercises will keep them on the ice. They probably fake injuries just to come down and flirt with you.”

Pam pushes her pretty pink lips to one side and bats her eyes at me. “Well, I guess they can fake injuries all they want. It’s job security.”

“Well, it’s good to see you,” I say. “Hopefully I’ll see you around again soon.”

“Yep. See you, Georg.”

She walks off without another thought for me. I even turn, watching her walk away, admiring the sway of her hot-as-fuck hips I’d very much like to hold in my hands. She’s amazing, but I think she’s just not for me.

Or I’m not for her.

Probably more like that, actually.