I’m so angry. I wish I could punch something, scream, and maybe disappear for a day, or f**k, maybe even a year.
Instead, I’m dressed in a suit (LaShonda’s idea) and seated across from the Ice Hawks’ head coach, inside his office while he lectures me sternly. I’ve only ever been in Coach Bryant’s office one other time, right after I got drafted to the team. Mostly I deal with Coach Dodd, which is a breeze compared to this.
I hear myself say things like yes, sir, and I agree, and I’m sorry, sir while blood pounds in my ears and I suppress my rage.
yes, sirI agreeI’m sorry, sirMy s*x tape is making the media rounds and has been viewed on all the porn pages, hockey blogs, and entertainment gossip sites. I don’t care that people are seeing me; the fact they’ve seen Sara is what pisses me of
