Read Online Power Play by Avon Gale - Free Book Online Page B

start. “Yes?”
    “I will admit that your little stunt in Toledo coincided with an increase in ticket sales once word got out. Goddamn YouTube.” Belsey drummed his fingers on the desk. He wore too many rings for a man. It made Misha think unpleasantly of his father. “Don’t get me wrong. It was minute. As in tiny,” he said, and that last part he addressed not to Misha, but to Max. As if maybe Max didn’t know what that word meant.
    Belsey thinks Max is stupid. Misha felt a hot rush of anger, but it wasn’t as though Max would be all that offended. Max was the first person to admit he wasn’t that book smart and that he’d get lost getting to the arena if it weren’t for Google Maps.
    “But there was an increase. So that’s something. And I know you’re going to get all fucking huffy and say that it’s because you won some games, blah blah blah. And maybe you’re right. Only one way to find out. Win some more. Now get out of my office. I have a meeting with the marketing intern.”
    They had a marketing intern? That was new.
    “Does this mean,” Max asked him, a few minutes later, “that if we do win games and don’t sell more tickets, he’ll tell us to make the guys get in fights with the other team’s bench?”
    Misha groaned inwardly. That was a distinct possibility.
    “And I like how he doesn’t think I know what minute means,” Max huffed. “I’m not a genius, but give me a break.”
    “He’s an idiot,” Misha said with a bit more vitriol than was warranted. “And he knows nothing about hockey.” He didn’t know if that was true, because Belsey seemed less interested in the actual sport and more in revenue. Which would be fine if he weren’t trying to manage the team instead of just owning it.
    Max blinked, obviously taken aback at Misha’s uncharacteristic display of emotion. “You really don’t like the guy, huh? Is it ’cause of that commercial? I mean, that’d be enough for me to not like him.”
    It’s because he hired you not to be a coach, but a sideshow. And he does not respect you, because he does not think you are anything more than a four-second clip on YouTube. Because that was the truth of it. Wasn’t it? Misha was hired because of the accident, maybe, but he’d been coaching for several years and had a career that spanned two decades.
    Max had a three-year stint in the majors and a year on the coaching staff at Duluth. He had experience, but if Misha hadn’t been hired, would Max have been?
    Was it always going to be that way—with one of their careers at the mercy of the other?
    Misha turned suddenly and grabbed Max’s arm. He strode purposefully through the locker room to his office, unceremoniously pulled Max inside, and slammed the door. Then he pushed Max up against it and resisted the very strong urge to kiss him.
    “Listen to me,” Misha said. He stared down into Max’s wide, green eyes. “We are going to make this team win. Not for Belsey, but for us.” You’re going to have a career if it kills me. Max wanted to be a hockey coach, so Misha would make sure he was one. Belsey probably intended to fire Max after the season if it didn’t go well. Misha would not allow another opportunity to pass Max Ashford by. Not again.
    “Okay,” Max said very slowly. “Wow. You just went all intense on me. Uh. Is there a reason?”
    Yes. You think the best of everyone and you shouldn’t. Not always. Sometimes there are reasons to hate people. Sometimes they really don’t have your best interests at heart.
    “I’m tired of worrying what he is going to do. We can’t think about him.” That was close enough to the truth. “We have a hockey team to coach. That is all we should concentrate on.”
    “I like how you’re telling me this as if I don’t agree with you,” Max said. He hooked a finger around Misha’s tie and tugged him in. “You brought me here to make out, didn’t you?”
    Misha needed a moment to parse that. “Why would I do