After graduation I’d started my career in New York’s farm team while Andrew set off to conquer the business world. Looking up at the gleaming building in front of me, the massive letters over the door proclaiming it Knight Arena, I couldn’t help but chuckle. I guessed the guy had done plenty well for himself without hockey.
The clock on my dashboard told me I only had fifteen minutes to get inside. Since I wasn’t familiar with the facility, I figured I may as well head in. I was bent over the trunk of my car retrieving my gear bag when I heard someone call my name. Looking up, I saw Jay making his way across the parking lot, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes.
“You’re still hungover,” I guessed and he grimaced.
“Just woke up.”
I shook my head. “Must be nice.” As the primary caregiver to an eight-year-old, I couldn’t remember the last time I slept in.
“So.” Jay peered up at the arena. “You have a bad feeling about this, or is it just me?”
I shrugged. I was pretty sure we were going to find plenty of guys in that locker room who had zero desire to be here. Morale was most definitely not going to be high.
On the other hand, we had a brand-new owner who liked to make a splash, which could very well mean he’d spare no expense to make this team successful. As far as I could tell, it could go either way.
Jay and I started walking towards the glass doors. “To be honest, man, I think moving here is gonna be really good for Josie. So I’m all in. I’ll do whatever I can to stick around.”
“Even though our new owner hates your guts?” I had mentioned a bit of my history with Andy to Jay after Grace left last night.
“Maybe he’s over it,” I said, even though I doubted it. “I mean, he did trade for me.”
“Or maybe you were the only guy he could get.”
I laughed, shoving him. “I’ve missed having your support in my life, man.”
Jay laughed. “I’m just keeping it real.”
We reached the front door just as another guy was coming in from the other side of the lot. “Hey,” he said, nodding at us. He looked a little familiar to me, but that could have meant anything. If you lasted as many years in the NHL as I had, you ended up playing against a hell of a lot of guys.
“I’m Enzo,” he said. “Goalie.”
The name didn’t ring any bells so I held out my hand. “Liam O’Conner.”
He smirked a little as we shook. “Yeah, I figured that.” The goalie turned to my friend.
“Jason Briggs. But I’m guessing you figured that out too.”
Enzo’s expression turned immediately uncomfortable. He clearly had no idea who Jay was and was probably wondering if it would be too rude to say so. Jay and I both cracked up.
“Messing with you, man. I’m a nobody.”
“Not true,” I argued. “Don’t you hold the record for most penalty minutes for the Greenville Swamp Rabbits? Or was that the record for worst shot percentage? I always mix that up.”
“Fuck off,” Jay said, grinning. The goalie looked back and forth between us, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of our banter.
“Let’s head in,” I said. “Don’t want to be late on the first day.”
A security guard with a paunchy belly and a long grey beard met us at the door and we all held out our passes. “Head on in, boys,” he told us. “You just make a left at the end of this hallway, but we put signs up. Should be easy enough to find the room.”
“Thanks, man. What’s your name?” If I had learned anything in my years of playing it was this: befriend the guys who work at the arena. They could be the difference between a smooth day at work or one filled with any number of shitty little hassles.
“Jed Poole.”
I held up a fist to bump his and introduced myself and my two new teammates.
“Good to meet ya,” he said. “I’m sure you boys are gonna do great.”
“You a hockey fan, Jed?”
