Shut up. Shut up now.
Jake just smiles and waves as he walks off.
“She’s very important to us,” says Mars, giving me his best Finnish death glare.
I swallow. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“Hurt her, and I’ll end you,” he adds before turning away, which really feels like beating a dead horse.
His warning rings in my ears as I watch him load the bus. I’m still thinking about it as I make my way back inside. I’m on my way up to the gym to hop on the exercise bike when Vicki finds me in the hallway.
“Oh, Langley, there you are,” she says, fanning herself with the manilla folder in her hand. “Can you believe this heat in January?”
“Yep, it’s warm out there,” I say, making the smallest of talk.
Vicki Francis is our Director of Operations, and a bigger ball-buster you’ll never find. Hearing that she’s been looking for me instantly has me on edge. She’s one of the only people on the team that can get us all bouncing like trained seals.
“What can I do for you, Vic?”
“Oh, it’s not what you can do for me today,” she says with a distracted wave of her hand. “It’s what I can do for you. Or I should say what the GM can do. He’s in today, and he was asking to see you.”
I go still. Mark Talbot is here? I’ve never actually had a conversation with Mark in my life, though I’ve seen him enough times at games and team events. He’s this billionaire tech guy born and raised in Jacksonville who returned here when he all but retired at forty years old, having sold off most of his companies. He used some of his endless wealth to buy an NHL franchise and set it up here in Jax. Other than the fact that he looks like a GQ model, I don’t know a thing about the guy.
“Hello? Earth to Ryan,” Vicki teases, waving a hand in my face.
I blink, refocusing my attention on her. “I’m sorry, Vic. What?”
She laughs. “I said if you have a minute, you may want to go up and have a quick word. He’ll be in his office for only another hour or so.”
“Yeah, sure. I can do that—”
“Wonderful,” she says. “I’ll walk with you.”
I have no choice but to get myself turned around on the crutches and hobble my way back down the hallway towards the elevators, Vicki at my side. We ride up to the fourth floor together and she directs me down the hallway towards the owner’s suite.
A pretty young black woman sits at a secretarial desk. “Can I help you?” she chimes.
“Yeah, uhh, I’m here to see Mr. Talbot. It’s Langley—Ryan Langley,” I correct. “I’m umm…a player,” I finish lamely.
She gives me a very patient smile. “Yes, I’m well aware of who you are, Mr. Langley. If you’ll have a seat, Mr. Talbot can be with you in a moment.”
“Actually, it’s kind of easier to stand,” I admit, gesturing to my crutches.
She just raises a brow at me, her fingers already clack-clack-clacking away on her ergonomic keyboard.
“Not that I can’t sit,” I go on, because apparently I have to say every single thing I’m thinking out loud today. “I mean, I can sit. I just don’t feel like sitting right now. You know, because I’ve just been sitting a lot and—”
“Mr. Langley?” she says, cutting me off.
“Hmm?”
“You can go in now.” She gestures at the door over her left shoulder.
“Thanks,” I say, hobbling forward on my crutches.
I try to open the door on my own, but I nearly drop my crutch down and she has to hop up and hold the door for me. I glance around his office as I swing in, taking note of all his sports memorabilia.
“Langley, come on in,” calls Mr. Talbot. He crosses the dark carpet towards me and holds out a hand.
I pause and awkwardly shift around until I can shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
He laughs. “Jesus, that’s not a great start, is it? I came in here ready to offer you a contract extension, and you come out of the corner swinging with a ‘nice to meet you, sir.’ I take this as proof of all the ways I’m failing as a team owner.”
“Sir?” I say with a raised brow.
“I’ve clearly not been doing enough here in town to grow my team if one of my star forwards can dare to utter the sentence ‘nice to meet you’ halfway through a season.”
“Oh, sir—I didn’t—”
“Not your fault, Langley,” he says. “Let’s get you off your feet, huh? Then we can talk contracts.”