“You figure it out.”
“Aria, how old is your nephew?” Kirby intercedes before our altercation gets really ugly, and I’m grateful. I don’t want Aria to ruin my good mood, and she’s getting close to doing so.
“He’s six.”
“Nice kid.”
“Thank you.” Once more she shoots me a look of pure disgust. I shrug and engage in a conversation with Dash and Kirby about the game. I don’t want to talk to this woman, and I wish she’d go back to her seat, but she’s not.
After a while, I leave the table and wander around the room, talking to my teammates and the WAGs. I’m a social guy, and Aria is cramping my style.
“Is there something going on between you two?” asks Briggs. He’s got one arm wrapped around Michella and holds a beer in the other hand.
“Why would you say that?” His question catches me off guard.
“You can’t keep your eyes off her.”
“That’s not true.” I’m offended, and I have every right to be.
Michella watches us with interest. She’s a private investigator, and she doesn’t miss a thing. “Briggs is right, Drakos. We’ve been discussing it. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. We hate each other.”
Michella and Briggs share a secret look, which irritates me.
“We’re sworn enemies.”
“There’s a very fine line between love and hate.”
“Who said anything about love?” I’ve had enough of this conversation. If I’m glancing too often at Aria, it’s only because I have to watch my back. I need to distract these two before they have me married off to that woman or something. I liked Briggs better when he was a sullen asshole rather than a guy who’s so madly in love, he thinks everyone else should be too.
Michella smirks as if she knows better than I do.
Annoyed, I change the subject. “What’s going on with those two? Isn’t that the detective you work with?” I jerk my chin toward Coach Jeffs, who’s getting cozy at a table with a woman. They’re leaning close together and laughing.
Briggs glances across the room. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“Doesn’t Coach have a girlfriend?”
“Not anymore, I guess. They split a while ago.” Michella shrugs and doesn’t appear eager to provide any more information.
“Now they’re going out?”
“No idea.” Briggs gives me one of those looks that says nosy, aren’t you? I guess I am.
“She’s looking into the disappearance of Mr. Barlowe’s assistant.” Michella offers no other details.
I nod. Stanley Barlowe is the majority owner of the Icehawks. His granddaughter is engaged to our team captain, Dashel “Dash” Bates. Mr. Barlowe’s assistant, Shelby Harrison, was feeding sensitive team info to Aria and was fired. Shortly after being fired, she dropped off the face of the earth. Personally, I think her abusive husband did her in. Regardless, the local police aren’t all that interested, and Mr. Barlowe must’ve hired Carla to investigate.
“They look pretty cozy for just talking business.” I press on.
Michella is closemouthed, and so is Briggs. Whatever they know, they aren’t sharing. Not that I care. My goal is to distract and divert attention away from me and Aria, and I’ve achieved that goal. I move on to play a game of pool with Kirby and a couple rookies.
After Kirby and I kick their asses, I wander over to the video games. Noah is completely engrossed with his game. I start to turn away but stop and approach him instead. I feel inexplicably drawn to the boy for reasons I can’t comprehend. I’m good with kids. Always have been. I volunteer to help young hockey players, visit pediatric wards in hospitals, and spread the word at local schools about my sport. Yet I don’t have a driving desire to be a father myself. At least not at this point in my life.
Noah finishes his game and turns, surprised to find me watching over his shoulder.
“Good job, pal. You defeated the monsters and the enemy.”
