“Oh man.” Mack flung the door open and stepped aside for me to enter first. He was the captain of the team and always entered and exited the dressing room last. Every team had their last man, and Mack was it here. “What’s the population of Chance Rapids and Windswan together? Thirty thousand? Double that.”
“Where do they put everyone?” Coalman had told me that the game was a big deal, but I hadn’t realized that I’d be losing the Classic in front of that many people—including Evie and GJ. I shook the two of them from my head. I couldn’t let myself get attached. I had a job to do—lose the Christmas Classic and then leave town. A career in the NHL was worth more than the hit my ego was going to take letting in the game-losing goal.
Coalman had assured me that the scout wouldn’t care if the team lost. He said that my skill would shine through anyway. I hoped that he was right—this was my shot at getting my life back on track. So what if it broke the heart of every kid in town. Teams lose all the time. I was going to walk away with ten thousand bucks in my pocket and my name on a scout’s list. I couldn’t let the pretty girl with the quirky fashion sense derail me now.
By the time I got out of the shower, Mack was gone. I took my time drying off and getting dressed. It was eight thirty and I didn’t want to get back to the inn too early. I took a minute to admire the room. For a small-town rink, the dressing room at the Chance Rapids Memorial Centrewas pretty damn nice. Each player had their own cubby and the equipment manager kept the sticks in mint condition. There was a massage room and a dedicated fitness room just for the team. None of these guys were getting paid to play here, yet they all seemed so pumped to be on the team.
I didn’t get it.
The minute hand clicked over on my watch and I sighed. All Evie and I had to do was get through tonight. Tomorrow I would find a place to live for the rest of my time in town. It would mean that I’d have to lie to someone about how long I’d be here, but that seemed easier than living in a four hundred square foot space with a woman I didn’t know but somehow felt like I did.
That was the difference with Evie. How did it feel like I’d known her for a lifetime when it had only been a few days? Was this what it felt like to meet the right person? I didn’t know, and I wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out.
I pulled on my puffy coat and hiking boots and prepared myself for the long night ahead. But when I stepped out of the dressing room I wasn’t met with an empty hallway. Strong hands gripped my arms on either side. “You’re coming with us, Tinsey.” Mack laughed.
“Let go of me.” I tried to shake him and Chaser off me.
“No way, dude. This is a team tradition. You’re a Bobcat now,” Mack said.
It would have been easy to get out of it, but dollar signs and contracts floated through my mind. I had a role to play, and if that meant pretending to bond with my “new” team, then I was about to win an Oscar.
“Fine.” I shrugged off their vice-like grips. “But only one drink.”
I definitely couldn’t roll into Room 222 tipsy.
The guys looked at each other and smiled. “Sure. One drink.” Chaser winked.
It was an easy walk to the main street of town. The colorful strands of lights that criss-crossed over top of the street hung heavily with snow, and “Winter Wonderland” played through the outdoor speakers.
The Last Chance Tavern looked like it had been a Chance Rapids staple for the last hundred years. A heavy wooden door led to a dark room that smelled like stale beer and cigarette smoke. Even though smoking indoors had been banned for decades, the ceiling looked to be permanently stained with nicotine. A bar ran along one wall, pool tables sat in the middle, and on the far side stood a small stage and parquet dance floor.
“Fancy,” I grumbled.
Chaser laughed. “It’ll grow on you, and the beer is a lot cheaper than the fancy brewpub.”
Nickelback blared from the jukebox, and as we stepped into the main room, it seemed as though every eye in the place—and there were a lot of them—turned to look at us.
The crowd was a mixed bag. There were old-timers wearing grease-stained shirts hunched at the far end of the bar, young people wearing varying shades of plaid shirts hung near the pool tables, and the dance floor was filled with women, almost all of whom seemed to be able to shake their asses while holding glasses of beer or wine.
Most of those women paused their twerking, or at least slowed it down, to eye fuck us as we walked to the bar.
“Welcome to Chance Rapids,” Chaser whispered in my ear.
It looked like the kind of place where someone could get laid, score coke, and get punched in the face all within five minutes. “How long until the bar brawl breaks out?” The three of us joined the rest of the team that were sitting at a long table in the back.
Mack looked at his watch. “We’ve got a few hours before that happens.”
I wasn’t sure whether or not he was kidding.
“This is your seat.” Chaser pointed to the chair at the head of the table.Number Ninewas crudely carved into the stained hardwood—the Bobcat logo was painted in the center. “You guys have your own table at the bar?” I sat in front of my number and ran my fingertips over the slightly sticky surface.
“It’s the VIP table.” Mack slung his arm over my shoulder and his draft beer sloshed out the top of his cup.
A guy named Chuckles poured me a mug of beer and held his up in the air. “To our new goalie.”
The rest of the team raised their mugs. “May shots be deflected and his brain not too demented.”
I laughed with the rest of the team. The weirdo goalie stereotype didn’t bother me. You had to be a little messed up in the head to step in front of a piece of frozen rubber coming at you at seventy miles an hour. I laughed and tapped everyone’s glasses with mine and then sipped the slightly flat domestic beer.
