Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
A Good Show
Aleks
New York City was my favorite place in the United States.
Sure, I’d made a home in Tampa. I loved the beaches and the heat, the team that had believed in me when the rest of the league turned its back on me, and the condo I’d purchased in one of the high-rises downtown. I loved how much the city had grown, how it was busier now than ever before and there was always something to do.
But there was just nothing like New York.
Every time I traveled there, whether to play in a game or see one of Mia’s shows, I fell more for the bustling metropolis. I loved it in the fall, the winter, the spring, the summer. I loved the way it smelled, the way the air felt, the constant noise of cars and people. I loved how passionate New Yorkers were about their sports, their food, and their city.
It was a one-of-a-kind place.
Though I felt an affinity for the city, it wasn’t home. Then again, I wasn’t sure what was.
Berne should have been, I supposed. I lived there with Annaliese for most of my childhood.
Or perhaps it should have been Chicago, where I lived my formative teenage years with Mia and her parents.
Seattle could have been a home. It was the first place I lived on my own, where I grew from a young adult into a man. It was the start of my career. It should have been the city I felt loyalty to.
Instead, I felt nothing more than resentment. That city, that team, that organization as a whole… they’d treated me well only long enough to get what they needed out of me before I was being tossed aside.
I wasn’t arguing that I’d made it easy on them. I knew I got into too much trouble sometimes, that my attitude cost me. But seeing how fast they turned their backs on me, regardless of what I did to make that team a winning one, really pissed me off.
If you didn’t fit the mold they created for their players, then there wasn’t a place for you.
Now, there was Tampa.
I liked Tampa. And Tampa liked me.
The fans loved my crazy antics. They cheered me on in fights and slammed their hands against the glass when I was locked up in the penalty box. And though I might have pissed off Coach more times than not, he still seemed to care about me being there, about us doing well as a team. Richard Bancroft certainly wanted me to do well — if only for his own benefit.
Maybe Tampa would feel like home one day.
Or maybe the whole concept of home was a bullshit lie.
I wondered who in this world felt like New York was home as the black car zoomed us across the city toward Rockefeller Plaza. Isabella and Rina chatted away the entire ride while Glo and James, one of Mia’s security guards, stayed quiet. Mia was mostly silent next to me, too, answering only when Isabella or Rina had a direct question for her.
To anyone else, she probably seemed nervous. But I knew better. I knew doing this interview tonight, performing her music live, being in front of an audience… that was her catnip. I’d known that since the first time I’d seen her perform live when we were kids. She’d had a small set list at a festival down by the lake late that summer I’d moved in, and I’d watched her bloom from this shy, adorable, goofy girl into a mesmerizing, confident, powerful entertainer.
I felt like I understood her then, that I fully comprehended what music and dancing and performing was for her.
It was like hockey for me.
Nothing made her happier. Nothing brought out that sparkle in her quite like this did.
“How many are you up to?”
Mia blinked at my question, drawing her gaze from the window to me. “Huh?”
“You used to count trees on the way to a performance,” I reminded her. It was something I’d picked up on when we’d been on our way to a Christmas gig she had at the park when she was seventeen, and she’d confessed it helped soothe her and take her mind off her nerves. “I know there aren’t many trees in the city, but… how many are you up to?’
The corner of her mouth tilted up just a notch. “Twenty-nine. But I haven’t been counting very diligently, if I’m being honest.” She assessed me for a long pause. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Come on now, Strings,” I said, tugging on the strings of her hoodie with the nickname. “I remember everything.”
I thought I saw her cheeks flush, but she quickly narrowed her eyes and swatted my hand away. “That so? Because your test scores back then beg to differ.”
“I remember what’s important.”
“So math, science, English… none of that is important, huh?”