“Same.” King taps him back.
Are they for real? I close my fingers, strangling my stick, and bite back a retort. There shouldn’t be any flirting on the ice.
This time, I speed ahead before it would be allowed in a sanctioned game, but we’re here to have fun. I get to the puck and see Brant on King and take my chances with Ace. He’s an excellent shot, but he’s getting old, and I outmaneuver him. I take off straight for the goal, and Brant challenges me.
Here’s where I can shine and show them my skills. I’m so focused on scoring that it doesn’t occur to me that King must be wide open because Ace is closing in. I bowl over Brant and take a shot at Benz. He gets his skate out just in time to deflect it, but King taps it in.
“O’Keefe, you’ve got great moves, but remember this is a team sport. You’re here to get a feel for playing with new guys and working together.” Ace smacks my helmet.
I mutter, “Way to make something happen, O’Keefe. Great job.”
“What was that?” King asks, and I ignore his laser eyes on me. They look fake with enhanced color in the glowing light.
I focus on the puck with single-minded determination for them to recognize my value to the team.
“King and Brant, you two go for the puck first,” Ace demands. He probably doesn’t want to chase me again.
They barrel down the ice but hesitate to take control of the puck. They eye each other and try for fake-outs, but neither falls for it. Finally, Brant makes a move, controls the puck, but King intercepts the pass and fires it at me. Instead of working the puck into open ice, I smack it through Benz’s five-hole and score.
Ace claps, unbothered that he’s losing two to zero. “Teamwork at its finest. What made you hesitate when you went head-to-head?” he asks King and Brant.
“He usually uses his left, but he’s a righty, so I was trying to figure out if it was his weak side.” King takes a swipe at Brant’s stick.
“King has a tendency to juggle the puck, and I was waiting for an opportunity to steal it but got impatient.” Brant grins at King, and I’m done with this shit.
“Excellent. The advantage of working with players you went against is that they can point out things we aren’t aware of. Let’s go again, O’Keefe.”
The rest of the time with these clowns crawls by. Their unwarranted praise for each other leaves the sour burn of bile in my throat. I, as a defender, have the most goals, but somehow, according to Ace, I’m the one not learning.
Fucking bullshit.
They head to the locker room, and I stay to shoot some pucks to clear my head.
This team is like all the rest, and they want me to fall in line with their system. Playing hockey is so much more than a set of rules; it’s an art form. More people should appreciate that.
Once my insides untangle, I wander the facility before going to change. We never got our promised tour today.
It’s a standard hockey facility, and it only takes a few minutes to find my way around. I pause, hearing King’s voice.
“You’re sure?” Ace sounds as if he doesn’t believe King.
“All good. If he’s what’s best for the team, I’m fine,” King replies.
“We have your back. Let me know if anything happens because we can protect you if he crosses the line.”
Such bullshit. Obviously, they’re talking about me. Ace acted as if my goals today were meaningless,andhe’s insinuating that King isn’t safe from me. This team isn’t as welcoming or inclusive as they claim. But I won’t run to the press to expose them, instead I’ll play their stupid game.
They don’t know King like I do, and he’s not some innocent victim. He’s exactly like his father, John King, a hypocrite.
King will show himself, and the team will know I’ve been right all along.
Chapter 3
Jamal King
“Quick question.” Brant pulls his jersey on over his pads. “Is Mr. Dimon a hard-ass or what?” We’re doing a full-pad practice scrimmage in the Manhattan arena for the new guys to cap off the never-ending week.
He’s met with incredulous stares and silence. Mr. Dimon is a players’ manager. He wants the best for us as men and players. We’re not treated like cattle to be bought and sold at will, unlike some other teams.
