Our friend Shelly owns Luca Bellezza Cosmetics, and Maggie’s branding firm does all her advertising. They are the ultimate girl bosses.AndMaggie’s best friend, Olivia, still works for her. She certainly doesn’t need the money being married to one of the Riders’ star players, but Maggie makes the job fun and treats all her employees with respect.Something I wish flying would involve.I stifle a groan.Why did fucking NASA need to steal Benny away?Maggie and Shelly don’t put up withanyof the patronizing ‘old boys club’ bullshit. My teeth grind on their own, wishing that wasn’t still a thing with a lot of the older male pilot population.
Don’t get me wrong, some of the male pilots are amazing, truly great to work with, and have respect for me and all the other females in our profession. When I see I’m on a flight with them, I rejoice. Sadly, there are still a lot that aren’t.
I’ve worked my way up through the ranks in both the Guard and the airline, butstillhave to deal with this shit. I stare at the half-eaten pretzel in my lap, my appetite gone with the looming uncertainty of who my new co-worker will be tonight.
“Oh, pre-game’s about to start! I see Olivia down there,” Maggie says, tapping my leg.
The usual hype video plays on the Jumbotron as the refs and opposing team skate out onto the ice, and the coacheshead to the bench. My heart is pounding, the bass from the music beating against my chest. The energy in this arena is electric, sparks igniting the fans as a motorcycle revs through the speakers.
Maybe watching these grown men fight one another with blades on their feet will get me out of my funk?
“Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, in honor of Bougie Bobblehead night, we have a special performance for you prior to the starting lineups from our very own bobblehead honoree,” the announcer’s voice booms through the speakers and the crowd starts to cheer, “please welcome to the ice, nummmbeerrr sixty-eight, defenseman, Jordan Boooouuu-cher!”
Nope. Not getting me out of my funk. Funk is now at one hundred percent as strobe lights flitter across the ice and a familiar song kicks in.Don’t tell me he’s skating out to?—
“Oh my God!” Maggie cheers next to me. “It’s Ice Ice Baby.”
The muscles in my jaw clench.Please God, no. Just…no.Let this not be happening.
But it is. It’s happening.
The entire arena erupts as the spotlight finds him skating around like he’s doing a goddamn figure skating routine all while holding a miniature version of himself like it’s the fucking Stanley Cup.
Did he just do a sit spin?Holy hell on toast. I shift in my seat and shake my head as the crowd conveniently changes the words to replace baby with Bougie every time the chorus hits.
My eyes narrow as my stomach twists. He is ridiculous. He is juvenile. He is…godammit he is fucking good and that sit spin could rival Michelle Kwan’s.
Stupid fucking athletes and their stupid fucking talents.
“This is incredible! He’s doing ice dancing moves in hockey skates!” Maggie shouts. I look over at Coach Calhoun, his arms tightly crossed as if he’s about to murder his own defenseman. Ilaugh louder than I should.Guessing Richy Rich didn’t get pre-approval for this.
I nudge Maggie, jutting my chin toward the bench. “I don’t think the coaching staff is very happy.”
She stops clapping along momentarily to elbow me. “They’ll get over it.”
“I’m not sure I will.”
“Lighten up, Kenni, or I’m going to send you and Vladi to Grump Camp this summer!”
Sinking into my seat, I suck my teeth. “I am not a grump!”
“Says the blonde who’s had a permanent scowl on her face the entire pre-game!”
I force myself to relax. Almost. Maybe she has a point.Maybe I should chill.I know he’s a professional athlete, and I’m sure he works hard, and all that, but something just burns me that he gets to literally skate around like an idiot and make millions of dollars without really trying.
Especially since he doesn’t even need the money.
The crowd erupts again as he ends his short program with his hands over his head while a burst of flames shoots out from his fingers. I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. I suppose hedidput in a lot of effort here. I will never admit this out loud, but between this and the bar dancing the other night, he is one hell of a showman.
“That was amazing!” Maggie shouts, “But now I feel bad for Liv having to go after Bougie on Ice.”
“Yeah…I don’t know how the hell she’s going to follow that.”
I head out after the second period to change into my uniform and get to the airport before the team arrives. A long sighescapes as I drive away from the twenty thousand people fawning over a damn bobblehead. I will never admit this to Maggie, but the game and the antics leading up to it were a welcome distraction from the knot in my stomach about who my new co-worker will be. I inhale, then slowly exhale. I’m sure it will be fine. Maybe it’ll be Benny 2.0?
I reviewed my flight plans earlier today, but after arriving at the FBO where the private flights takeoff, I focus my energy on peeking through them again.
“Hey, Kennedy,” Theresa’s voice echoes through the crew lounge. “Heard you actually went to the game tonight. You get a bobblehead?”
