Julian catches it and shoots for the goal. It bounces off the goalie’s glove and goes in. We surround Julian, hugging him and listening to the announcer call, “Goal!” It’s not nearly as loud and celebratory as it would be if we were home, but meh.
Maybe it’s vain, but I enjoy hearing my name over the speakers. Especially when we’re in someone else’s rink. “Score by Arizona’s Julian White, number thirty-four. Assisted by Keno Edgewood, number fourteen. Bringing the score to 6-3.”
Love it. These are the moments I live for.
The rest of the game is playing keep away. Yes, we try for another goal because that’s our job, but our true focus is simply not to let Toronto take the puck back. Bonus is that I get to slam Lo against the boards once, just before the game ends as we fight for the puck.
It was really weird playing against Lo for the first time. A part of me really wanted to toss him the puck as I did countless times last year. It helped that he’s not in our team colors. Sometimes, I’m not even paying attention to who I’m passing to. It’s more about getting it to someone on our team. I’m looking at the jersey color as opposed to a specific person.
We file off the ice after a short celebration. I stop just inside the chute when there’s someone there with my jersey on. A kid, maybe twelve. He hands me a Sharpie and I sign my name inside the one on the back. Then pause to take a picture with him.
“Thank you!” he says, beaming at me with the biggest smile.
I clap his arm. “Thanks for being a fan,” I counter. It’s nice to see fans in other arenas, too. It reminds me we aren’t just Arizona’s team. We’re a dynasty. We have fans and supporters all over the country. All over the continent, considering that Canada is a separate country.
I follow my team toward the locker room and begin stripping out of my pads. It’s always a long process, but not for the first or last time, I’m thankful I don’t have the eighty pounds of gear that Horny has to fight with every time.
I’m not in a huge hurry since I know that Lo has to stay behind for his team press or whatever, in case he has to talk to them tonight. He shouldn’t since he didn’t score, and he’s not the captain, but you never know.
Eventually, Etna, Horny, Julian, Hilt, and I head for the exit to where Lo is waiting with a monstrously big vehicle. We climb into the back of the enormous vehicle Lo’s driving. “Where did you get this?” I ask. “The snow that bad up here?”
“My understanding is yes, it is, but this isn’t mine. I borrowed it when you said you needed a chauffeur for five. We don’t have vehicles that big,” Lo answers, twisted in the driver’s seat as we climb in.
Caulder’s in the passenger seat also twisted to look behind him. I end up in the very back row with Julian and Hilt, while Horny and Etna take the middle seats.
Etna shuts the door and taps the back of Lo’s seat. “Onward, driver!”
Lo rolls his eyes. “I’m going to dump you on the train tracks, bitch,” he says, turning forward again.
“Sounds like you really missed each other,” Caulder deadpans, smirking as he turns forward as well.
“Very much,” Horny says. “Have you met Julian? We’ve replaced you with him.”
Lo rolls his eyes. “One day, I’m going to introduce you to the hockey house I replaced you all with.” He glances at Caulder, and I watch the exchange of looks they give each other. “It’s a damn trip.”
“Oh?”
Caulder nods. “It’s too wild to even put into words. Just picture this—it’s a mix of, like, a playboy mansion, a frat house, and super rich hockey players. Eight of them living under one roof with richie-rich type toys.”
“Six hockey players,” Lo corrects. “Two of the roommates aren’t hockey. I think they’re Casey’s childhood besties.”
“Huh,” Horny muses. “That’s… interesting.”
“You have no idea,” Lo says, shaking his head. “Very fucking weird.”
“I’d like to point out that it took six hockey players and two non-hockey players to replace us and only one Julian,” Horny says, grinning.
Lo’s eyes rise to the mirror as he looks at Horny. “Numbers, Horny. Besides, I like their richie-rich toys.”
We chat as Lo drives for fucking days and pulls this big ass vehicle into a driveway that feels far too small for it. Probably because there are already two other cars there. Since one has New York plates, I assume that’s Caulder’s.
“This is nice,” Hilt comments, looking at the house from the driveway.
“It’s fine,” Lo says, shrugging. “It met the criteria.”
“Being as far away from the arena as you can get?” Horny asks.
Caulder smirks as he heads for the house while we’re still climbing out of the back. Unless it’s a bus, it’ll always take us a minute.
