She’s reconsidering?
“We play tomorrow night at seven,” I tell her.
“Marquer un but pour ma manifique cul demain soir, Alex,” she replies in perfect French with a perfectly smug smile on her lips.
My mouth falls open. She just told me to score a goal for her perfect ass. Luc bursts out laughing. Brie disappears out the door and into Brooklyn’s morning foot traffic. She understood everything I said about her. Every. Single. Word.
Luc is still laughing—loudly. I want to punch him. “I thought for a second there all those rumors about your mad skills with the ladies was exaggerated,” he says, “but apparently it just sucks with ones who can understand you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shrug like it’s no big deal but I’m actually feeling a little embarrassed, which hasn’t happened in decades. “I was just being honest. Seriously, she was gorgeous.”
“She’s pretty and pretty smart if she’s staying clear of you.” Luc grins and I give his shoulder a shove.
“Let’s go. I don’t want to be late to my first practice.” I start toward the door and he follows. Outside we head east toward the arena, which is just a few blocks down. I can’t help but scan the faces of people passing by, hoping I’ll see her again but of course I don’t.
When we get to the arena we head straight to the locker room. Most of the team is already there and as soon as I walk in the guys start to holler and clap and I get that warm rush inside me that I only ever get from being on a team. Devin Garrison stands up and walks over. “Glad to have ya, Rue.”
He gives me a quick hug. Jordan stands up and walks over, grinning. “Brother! We’re reunited at last!” He hugs me, hard and long and the warm rush inside me gets warmer.
“No one I’d rather play with again,” I tell him and I mean it.
As Jordan walks back to his locker I walk over to mine. My name is written in Sharpie and stuck to my locker with hockey tape like it always is when a player is new. I should be getting a nameplate soon. If it doesn’t show up by the end of the week I’ll make one myself. I hate the tape thing.
Temporary, half-ass stuff like that reminds me of my childhood. In the foster system most of the time you only get a garbage bag to schlep your belongings to a new home because suitcases aren’t in the budget. It’s disheartening and degrading and for some reason the tape reminds me of that.
As we change Luc decides to regale everyone with our Starbucks encounter. Jordan looks up at me and grins his goofy lopsided smile when Luc finishes the story. “These New York girls will eat you alive, Rue. You should have settled down before they traded you.”
“I’ll never settle down.” I remind him what I’ve told him since I met him his first year in the league. “Besides, you and your brothers stole all the good women.”
Devin smirks at that from where he’s lacing up his skates. “Yeah we did.”
“So you’re just going to spend your life breaking hearts?” Jordan questions. This from the guy who went through women faster than underwear before he got back together with Jessie.
“I don’t break hearts. I break headboards,” I reply and wink. He groans and thankfully Devin changes the subject.
I love Jordan. He and a few other guys I’ve played with throughout my career, like Avery Westwood and Sebastian Deveau, are the closest thing to family I have, and I’m happy they’ve all found someone they can see themselves spending their life with. I love their girlfriends and wives but when I see them together, it’s kind of like watching an out-of-focus foreign movie without subtitles. It’s vaguely fascinating but completely incomprehensible.
Practice goes well. I feel comfortable right away, maybe because of how many players I already know or because I’m getting used to playing on a new team every couple of years. But Coach doesn’t seem impressed with me. I keep telling myself he’s just sussing out a new player, but then he pops his head into the locker room when I get out of the shower. “Larue, swing by my office on your way out.”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
I look at Devin because he’s the Barons’ captain and probably knows the coach better than anyone else on the team. He gives me a reassuring smile. “Coach is a good guy. Nothing to worry about.”
I change quickly and as I grab my jacket and shove my feet into my shoes, Luc calls out. “I’ll text you the Realtor’s info.”
“Thanks, buddy.” I head out the door and down the long hall to the coach’s office. He’s sitting behind his desk and motions me in.
As I step into the office he says, “Close the door.”
I feel like a kid in the principal’s office. I sit down and he sighs, which feels like another bad sign. “So, you were management’s pick. I wanted to keep Allen. He was having trouble scoring, but he liked to keep a low profile on the ice. You like to push buttons and cause opponents to take penalties. Thatmightgive us a chance to score, but it’s drama. I don’t like drama.”
Fuck.
“But management thinks you’re some kind of team unifier.” He gives me a shrug. “I think our team morale is fine, but they think you can make it better than fine. I don’t think we need a locker room hero. I was outvoted, so prove me wrong.”
“I will.” I’ve won over coaches before, and he’s not going to be any different. He sighs again, clearly unconvinced, so I add, “I wasn’t drafted, so I had to bust my ass to earn a walk-on chance with the Royales. If it’s grit and determination you’re worried about, I promise I have that. I will give you all I’ve got.”
He stares at me for a long moment and then gives me a terse nod. It’s not a sigh, so I take it as a win. If you’re not a superstar, being bounced from team to team every few years is the norm. I’m a good player but not a great one, so I knew this would be my fate when I joined the league, but I’ve never had to deal with a coach who actively didn’t want me before. He grabs a piece of paper off his desk. “In the meantime, the management was asked to have a player featured on the sports showOff the Ice.”
