Chapter 63: The Mad Russian
VIKTOR
"My fucking hamstring is tied in knots," I growl.
"Cramp or injury?" Pamela, the blonde therapist asks.
"Cramp."
"All right," Dale, the trainer says. "Let's have Pam do a deep-tissue massage and then you and I can do some stretching."
I lie face down on the table as Pamela starts to work on my leg. "X?????," I snarl. Cocksucker. That hurt. "Sorry, Pamela."
"I've heard worse," she says with a laugh. "I owe you a little bit of pain anyway, though, don't I?"
I push my lips out, somewhat annoyed. I accidentally knocked her to the ground in a stupid bar brawl with Georg and Evan a season ago. I feel badly because I was a certifiable asshole that night. She seems satisfied with how things resolved though. I know her little comment is meant in jest. But I find my sense of humor lacking now, so I don't respond.
"How is that?" She thankfully lets the topic drop.
"It is good. You found the spot."