Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 87395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Wymack's apartment was number 724. They gathered around the door so Aaron could dig the key out of his pocket. It took him two tries to remember which one he'd put it in. Neil didn't notice when he found it and unlocked the door. He was too busy staring at Aaron's pants pockets. They were much too flat to be hiding a pack of cigarettes, but Neil had seen Aaron put the pack away before crossing the street at the airport.
"Here you go, Neil," Nicky said, and Neil forced his gaze up to the open doorway. Nicky gestured for him to precede them. "Home sweet home, if anything involving Coach can be called sweet."
Neil had known since April he'd be crashing on Coach Wymack's couch for a couple weeks. He'd known, in the days following Wymack's visit, that it would be uncomfortable. He still wasn't prepared for the way his stomach roiled inside him now. He'd been on his own since his mother died, and the last man he'd lived with was his father. How was he supposed to let Wymack lock the door every night with both of them under the same roof? He couldn't possibly sleep here; every time Wymack breathed Neil would wake up and wonder who was after him. Maybe he should back out and check into a hotel, but how was he supposed to explain that to Wymack? Would he have to explain? Wymack thought Neil's parents were abusive, so maybe he'd understand Neil's reticence.
He hadn't expected to lock up like this, and he'd hesitated too long. He saw the look Nicky sent Aaron, curious and confused, and knew he'd made a mistake. Still, it wasn't until Andrew stepped up alongside him to see what the holdup was that Neil could move again. Andrew was smiling, but his pale stare was intense. Neil met his eyes for only a moment and knew it was worse to stay out here with them than it was to cross that threshold. He'd figure it out, but not here and not now, not with Andrew and Kevin as witnesses.
Neil stepped over the threshold and started down the hall. The first doorway opened up into the living room Neil would be sleeping in. The couch Wymack had referenced was cleared off and even had a sticky note tacked to it saying that the blankets were in the coffee table drawer. It was the only clean surface in the room. Everything else was covered in paperwork and empty coffee mugs. Overflowing ashtrays were in unhealthy abundance as well.
Neil was halfway across the room to look out the window when Nicky spoke up behind him.
"What was that all about?"
Neil's blood turned to slush. It wasn't the words that got him but the language Nicky used. German was Neil's second language thanks to three years spent living in Austria, Germany, and Switzerland. He remembered more of Europe than he wanted to; most of their time there had been a cold mess. He knew the tang of blood in his mouth was just his imagination, but it was sharp enough to choke him. He could feel his heartbeat on every inch of his skin, going so fast it set him trembling head to toe.
How did they know he spoke German?
Neil had half a mind to run for it, but then Aaron answered, and Neil realized with a sick rush Nicky wasn't talking to him. No, they were talking about him, not intending for him to understand. Neil forced himself to move, finishing his trip to the window. He pushed the curtains back and put his hands to the glass, needing something to steady him while his heart tried to ease back to a normal rhythm.
"Maybe he was savoring the moment," Aaron said.
"No," Nicky said. "That was pure fight or flight. What the hell did you say to him, Andrew?"
Neil looked back at them. Nicky wasn't looking at Andrew, maybe already knowing he wasn't going to get an answer, but was watching Neil across the room. When Neil turned, Nicky gave a bright smile and switched back to English. "How about a tour?"
Neil considered saying something, but he'd already given too much away. "Sure."
There wasn't much to look at. A bathroom and kitchen sat opposite each other, and the bedrooms were at the end of the hall. Wymack had converted the second bedroom into an office. The office made up for the bare living room walls: it was covered with newspaper articles, team photos, outdated calendars, and miscellaneous certificates. Two bookshelves lined the wall, one full of Exy books, the other a mishmash of everything from travel guides to classic literature. Wymack's desk was buried in paperwork, not an inch of wood visible, and Neil's file was on top. Holding down one corner was a hefty prescription bottle. Nicky scooped the bottle up with a triumphant sound and twisted the lid off.
"That's not yours," Neil said.
"Painkillers," Nicky said, ignoring that implicit accusation. "Coach shattered his hip a few years back, you know? That's how he met Abby. She was his therapist, and he got her the job here. Team's still split fifty-fifty on whether or not they're boning. Andrew refuses to vote, which means you're the tiebreaker. Let us know ASAP. I've got money riding on it."
He shook a couple pills into his hand, screwed the lid on, and put the bottle back. Neil looked to see what the others thought of this, but Andrew and Kevin had vanished. Only Aaron remained, and he didn't look at all concerned.
"You'll meet Abby tonight at dinner," Nicky said, stuffing the pills into his pocket. "We've got a couple hours to kill before then, so maybe we can take you by the court and let you gawk at it. We've got the perfect number for scrimmages now. Kevin's probably pissing himself in excitement."
"I doubt that," Neil said, thinking of Kevin's dispassionate expression downstairs.
"Kevin doesn't do excited," Aaron agreed, "but since Exy is the only thing he cares about, no one wants you on our court more than he does."