Free Rookie Mistake by Tracey Ward Page B

remember.
    A startled receptionist with brown hair and dark rimmed glasses greets me nervously. “Welcome to the Ash—“
    “I want to talk to Brad Ashford right now.” I step up to her tall, curved desk, slapping my hands down loudly on it’s cold top. “Right. Fucking. Now.”
    She shakes her head. “Mr. Ashford isn’t in. I can leave him a message.”
    “When is he coming back?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I’ll wait in his office.”
    “You can’t do that.”
    “You better find somewhere to park me and tell his old ass to get down here because I’m not leaving this office until I talk to him!”
    “I can try calling him,” she offers halfheartedly.
    “No. I want him here in person. He’ll face me like a man.”
    “I’m sorry, I can’t—“
    “Trey.”
    I jerk to my right. Sloane is in the hallway. She’s perfectly dressed, perfectly pressed, and utterly calm.
    It pisses me off worse than I already am.
    “Where’s your dad?” I demand.
    She frowns at me impatiently. “ Mr. Ashford isn’t in the office today.”
    “Get him here.”
    “No.”
    “Well one of you better get him on the phone because I want to know what the fuck is happening with the Draft!”
    Sloane takes three slow steps toward me, her expression annoyed. “Lower your voice and watch your language. This is a business, not a locker room.”
    “Don’t turn frigid on me, Sloane. Talk to me. What’s going on?!”
    “Come with me to my office and we’ll talk about it.”
    She doesn’t wait for me to agree. She turns on her heel, the black spike on her shoe snapping sharply with each decisive step down the hall. She holds the door open for me as she waits stone-faced for me to storm angrily inside. Once the door is slammed shut behind me, she loses her composure.
    “What are you thinking?” she hisses viciously.
    “I’m thinking your dad is a goddam traitor!”
    “Keep your voice down.”
    “What’s going on with the Draft?!”
    Sloane shakes her head stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I won’t talk to you when you’re like this. Calm down.”
    “I can’t!”
    “Lower. Your. Voice.”
    “Answer. Me.”
    “I have it under control. You have to trust me.”
    I point to the small flat panel TV mounted against the wall. “How can I trust that you have it under control when your own dad is telling the world I’m not the right guy for the job?”
    “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s never known with you. I had to fight for you for years to get him to sign you because he wouldn’t listen!”
    “Well, you know who’s listening now? The fucking GM of the Kodiaks! He’s listening to your dad telling him I’m no good!”
    “And Coach Allen and I are telling him you are! Nothing has been decided yet!”
    I turn, pacing the small room with my hands in my hair as my head pounds painfully. “I can’t handle this. I can’t take this shit.”
    “Trey, what is with you?” Sloane asks hesitantly. “I’ve seen you uptight before but never like this.”
    I can hardly hear her. I barely see her. All I can think is that I’m spiraling. I’m falling. The lights in the room are too bright. The air is too thin. The walls too close. It’s all crashing down on me, pulling me under, and I’m going to pass out. I’m going to die.
    “What can I do to help you?”
    Her hand is on my shoulder.
    Her smell is in my nose.
    Her face is in my hands.
    Her breath is on my lips.
    I kiss her zealously, pouring my anxiety into her. Letting myself go as I cling to her. I pull her to me until I’m worried I’ve hurt her, but she doesn’t complain. Her arms tangle with mine as I try to get a better grip on her. Try to get closer to her so I can be farther from myself. Clothes are shoved aside, teeth clash and clatter as we come together and break apart violently shedding our shells. She can’t reach high enough to get my shirt off over my head but I don’t help her. I make her struggle to touch me