Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Nothing like a photo op to make Thanksgiving magical and unforgettable.
I take a sip of my coffee. I could just blurt out, what the hell do you want? But Dad doesn’t like to be interrogated. He likes holding the seat of power. If I asked him, he would just stall. Give me a lecture about how he wants to see me and then take an even more roundabout way to get to the real reason he’s here. So it’s best to pretend I don’t know he has an ulterior motive. Then he’ll just reveal it faster.
“One of the reasons I wanted to see you—” he starts.
See? Wait, and he shall deliver.
“—is to pick your brain about this UCS mess.”
“What about it? It’s not my school.”
“No, but it’s your sport.”
“What the hell does that mean? A bunch of hockey players allegedly haze someone to their death, so that means I’m culpable too?”
“Lower your voice.”
I roll my eyes. “Contrary to what you believe, no one is eavesdropping on us or recording this conversation. Nobody in Hastings gives a shit. And Briar Hockey has nothing to do with UCS.”
“No. But this isn’t the first time an NCAA hockey team has gotten a bad rep for unruly behavior.”
“Have you met Coach Jensen? That man runs a tight ship. Briar players don’t fuck around.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
I’m starting to get aggravated. Why can’t he just be a normal dad who wants a pleasant visit with his son? A dad who asks how my game went this weekend, if I think we might make it to the postseason, if I’m dating anyone.
He notes my expression, and his lips tighten as he visibly grits his teeth. “William. No man is an island.”
He’s throwing rote phrases at me now? Deep Thoughts with William Larsen Senior?
“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumble.
“It means that it’s not only what I do that reflects on me. What my son does reflects on me. My son plays hockey. And my son goes to college. In a vacuum, that might be innocuous. However, at the moment, a college hockey program has been implicated in a hazing scandal that ended with a kid plummeting off a roof. And naturally, the vultures in DC have questions now. First and foremost: Congressman, what does your son think about it?”
“What do they care what I think?”
“Because they care about me.”
Me, me, me, me, me. That’s what it always boils down to, isn’t it?
“So you think this’ll reflect poorly on you because I play hockey? Come on, Dad. Nobody cares.”
“I truly don’t know why you’re being combative right now. One would think we’d be on the same page in our condemnation of the Sacramento program.”
“Is that what you need? Like, seriously, get to the point. Do you want me to give a statement condemning it? Because, sure, I’ll do it. I shall condemn.”
He shakes his head at my sarcasm. “That’s merely lip service. And in this political climate, we need to show more than lip service, so with that said…”
My stomach sinks.
“I’ve arranged for Capitol Magazine to write a profile about you.”
“No,” I say instantly.
“William. You don’t say no to an interview with Capitol.”
The waitress chooses that moment to return with my burger and fries. Joke’s on her. My appetite has gone the way of the dinosaurs.
As she sets the plate down, Dad flashes his winning smile and thanks her, but the second she’s gone, his scowl returns. Mine never left.
“I don’t want a profile written about me,” I say in a low voice.
“Well, it’s already been confirmed, so…” He shrugs. “You can either gripe about it or you can behave as a congressman’s son should behave and speak to the journalist.”
I clench my teeth.
“I’ve also arranged for a camera crew to follow your team around,” Dad says, casually stirring his coffee.
“I’m sorry, what? A camera crew? You said it’s a written profile.”
He eyes me over the rim of his mug, his politician’s face set in that infuriatingly calm expression he always wears.
“It’s both. You’ll have a few sit-downs with the Capitol journalist—Alessia will arrange everything for you, so don’t worry. It’s all taken care of. But the magazine is partnering with Capitol TV to produce a short segment. They’ll shoot footage of your next few games and conduct interviews with some of your teammates.”
“Absolutely not.”
“William.” His tone is firm. Impatient. “This is about ensuring there’s transparency, showing that your team is clean and aboveboard.”
“We are clean,” I snap, feeling the frustration bubble up. “And regardless of that, it’s not your job to dictate the level of transparency from the Briar Men’s Hockey Program. We don’t need a camera crew invading our space to prove anything.”
“Appearances matter, son. This interview will show the public that there’s nothing to hide.”
“You mean it’ll show that you have nothing to hide,” I mutter, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.