Page 169 of Top Shelf

“No.”

“Erotic visual consultant.”

“No.”

“Scandinavian penis photographer? Dick-pic sommelier?”

“Walton.”

He grins then turns back to his locker, and Camden looks down at his phone. “Okay. Match the effort.”

“Exactly,” Eli says, clapping his hands. “Class dismissed.”

Jake reaches back into his stall. “Problem solved.”

Camden nods thoughtfully, then pauses. “What about perspective?”

Chase’s head snaps around and Jake’s hand stops inside his locker.

“Hand in frame,” Eli suggests.

“No,” Jake says. “That can look staged.”

“It is staged.”

Camden looks genuinely concerned. “Should I hold it?”

Reid slaps his hand down on the bench harder than necessary. “I hate all of you.”

“Depends what you’re going for,” Chase says, ignoring Reid.

“And what about scale? Should I—”

“Do not put a fucking Coke can beside it,” Logan says.

“I wasn’t going to use a Coke can!”

“A puck?” Chase suggests. “Seems thematically appropriate.”

Reid stands abruptly. He picks up the tablet, tucks it under his arm, and looks directly at Camden. For a moment he simply stares at him, and I feel the exact point where his goalie mentorship has become something he did not agree to.

“I’m going to say this once. You’re an adult, she’s an adult. She asked, and you want to send it. Great. Wonderful. Kumbai-fucking-yah. I support whatever consensual nonsense you two are doing.”

Walton opens his mouth, and Reid points at him without looking. “Do not interrupt me.”

Camden’s mouth twitches, and Reid continues. “But I’m your goalie coach. I’m here to help you read shooters, manage screens, track the puck, and stop letting every left-handed winger in the league beat you glove side. I’m not here to art-direct your penis.”

Chase folds forward first, then Jake’s laugh barks out hard enough that he has to brace a hand against his locker, while Logan turns away altogether. Even Eli loses whatever attempt he was making at keeping a straight face. Camden goes red from the collar of his training shirt to his ears.

I look at Reid. “You should still tell him not to use ceiling light, though.”

Reid stares at me for two seconds, sighs deeply, then walks out. Chase cackles louder as the door swings closed behind him, and Camden wipes a hand over his face. Eventually he looks around the room.

“So we agree about the lighting, right?”

By the time I leave the locker room, I have learned more about my teammates’ opinions on photographing a penis than I ever wanted to know. My phone rings before I make it out of the locker room, and I glance down to see Heidi’s name.

“Hey, min fru.”