Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Google alerts on the players.
I take a deep breath and hold it as I open the notification, hoping and begging that it will be any other name but the one I’m expecting. One glance at the subject line dashes all my hopes to hell.
Oskar Voyjik.
Motherfucker.
TWENTY
OSKAR
After taking the millionth selfie for the day with kids from this LGBTQ youth center I found online, my cheeks hurt. And as annoying and long as today has been, I’m glad I came here after practice.
When Lane forced me to go to that hockey rink with the Rainbow Raiders, I realized that I’m not doing enough. My aversion to teenagers because of how miserable I was when I was one shouldn’t have stopped me from doing all this community crap, but I figured with the way my image was in the media, they wouldn’t have wanted me anyway.
I was wrong.
Kimberly is the director here, and her face lit up when I walked in. Aleks wanted to come too, but I told him Lane would be pissed if he started hinting at his sexuality. Not that volunteering at an LGBTQ charity automatically means he’s queer, but I told him he shouldn’t risk it anyway.
Look at me thinking about Lane’s job and being responsible.
Plus, I sort of wanted to do this for myself.
I was planning to come here with my shadow to show Lane I’m using some initiative, but when he trusted me, I wanted to prove to him that I can take his trust seriously.
Eww, who am I?
Kimberly approaches me as the last kid finally gets his photo. Some of them here don’t have a phone, so Kimberly took them on hers, and that’s just sad. What teenager doesn’t have a phone? Then again, from what Kimberly told me when I came in to volunteer, some of these kids don’t even have homes.
Because of people like Lane’s parents, who promise to love their children no matter what and then abandon them for being something they can’t change. That’s not love.
I wouldn’t be where I am today if my parents hadn’t been supportive. I know for a fact I’d be a statistic. Because when you feel all alone, your parents should be the ones to tell you that you’re not.
Kimberly smiles at me. She’s around fifty and looks like she’s run ragged but in a good way. If there is a good way to look bone-tired. “I’m sorry they’ve been a lot to handle today. If you come back to volunteer, you won’t be so shiny and new.”
“Don’t worry about it. The kids have been really great.”
“I see you ignored my come back to volunteer talk though.”
I did, but maybe not for the reason she thinks. “I’d actually love to come back, but I’d need to set it up with the team’s PR department so they can find something in my schedule. And can I ask, does the center have restrictions on donations? Say, if I wanted to donate new phones with a prepaid amount on them, is that okay?”
“It is. Any and all donations welcome. Though if you want to get them something they really need, clothes, books, and your basic needs is a good idea.”
I make a mental note to get all that stuff too. Maybe some jerseys from the team as well.
“I’ll go home and talk to my PR guy.”
Something that looks like disappointment crosses her face. “No problem.”
“What is it?”
“What’s what?”
“You look like Lane when I make him a promise.”
“Who’s Lane?”
“Oh, my PR manager. He wants me to ‘clean up my image.’” I dramatically roll my eyes. “Please, I’m a saint.”
She doesn’t laugh. “Well, I guess that’s my problem. You seem to only be here for your sake, not the kids. I don’t want them to get their hopes up about you coming back and then have you never show. Or worse, show up a couple of times, get your positive publicity, and then walk out on them. They’re not a gimmick to be used like that.”
Well, shit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that at all. Well, I did. But no. I want to come back. I’m going to come back. And I promise I’m not using them for publicity.”
“Sure.” She nods, and then her smile is back in place, though it doesn’t seem as genuine as before. “We look forward to seeing you again.”
She so thinks I’m never coming back.
Whether it’s reverse psychology or she’s seen so much in her life that she doesn’t have faith in humanity anymore, it works. Because I will be coming back. And I won’t even take credit for it.
Suck on that, charity lady.
I expect to be grilled about where I’ve been all afternoon when I walk through the door, so I have my story all straightened out: male strip club, soliciting hookers, and buying illegal substances.