We all cheered at the news.
Carrie had run into a few complications with her treatments and today she had to have emergency surgery.
And for some damn reason Alonso decided he would get behind the bench and coach us.
Lay walked up to me and smiled. “So how does this work? Alonso is your coach now, huh? Just think, you can fire right back at him that you’re his daughter’s coach. Her sexual coach. Getting freaky in bed, right?”
“Hey, Alonso,” I called out. “You should ask Lay what he said to your daughter about his little peanut.”
“What the fuck, Mav?” Lay asked, his eyes going wide.
“Oh, man, did you tell her that you got your dick pierced?” Reid asked. “When are you going to stop telling people that?”
“You said what to my daughter?” Alonso asked.
Lay took off toward the showers.
Alonso paused, looked at me, and grinned.
He exited the locker room and Lay peeked out of the showers ten minutes later.
“Is he gone?” Lay called out.
Remi pointed at Lay. “If you tell one more person that you have your dick pierced, I’m going to pierce your dick with my bare hands.”
“You want to touch my dick, Remi?” Lay asked.
Remi ran toward Lay.
Lay screamed.
Sometimes I wondered how in the hell we were all high-paid professional athletes.
A timeout was called.
There were five minutes left in a zero-zero game.
I took my mask off and helped myself to some water.
Remi and Reid skated to me.
“We’ve got this,” Reid said.
“Score a fucking goal then,” I said.
Remi nodded toward the bench.
Alonso waited with a small whiteboard that had a picture of the ice rink on it.
He drew up a play, pointing to Remi and Riff.
“You two run this,” he said.
That was like asking fire and gasoline not to explode.
“I can do it,” Lay said. “I’ve got this.”
“You trail,” Alonso said. “If Riff doesn’t make it and there’s a rebound, I want you to smash that into the net the way I want to smash my fist into your face.”