“What about me is gross?” Jordan asks, walking over.
“I hear Viagra is looking for ambassadors, Big Bird, you in?” Callie blurts out and as everyone erupts in groans and complaints, I disappear into the crowd and swim through it until I find my own, much tamer, family.
Dad is happy to see me and hugs me and tells me to shake off the loss. Mom kisses my forehead and rubs the back of my head and tells me how proud she was to see the banner go up. Nash is Nash, silent and moody. He takes losses like they’re his responsibility alone.
We make our way out of the building, curling our way through the concrete halls to the elevator that goes up to player parking. My mom is chattering away about life in Nova Scotia and her business. My mom started her own shoe company when Nash and I were babies and it’s been a complete success, as my dad will tell anyone and everyone. He’s beyond proud of her. So are Nash and I.
As soon as we step into the parking area Nash comes to a halt and lets out what seems to be a sigh of relief.
“What?”
He looks at me like I’m insane for not reading his thoughts. Sometimes I think he believes the hype the media spews that we’re telepathic and that’s why we always know when and where the other is going to pass the puck. “The wind!”
Nash jabs a finger into the air. I look around the garage, the side facing the street is wide open, as we’re several levels up near the roof of the arena. There is a wind swirling through the openings, picking up garbage and leaves. As the wind hits my face it’s warm. “Santa Ana winds.”
"Yes! Right?" Nash is too excited for a California weather phenomenon that hits every fall. He's got his phone out and is Googling it because he has to be one hundred percent certain. "Yes. Yes! It's the Santa Anas! That explains the loss."
The Santa Anas are warm winds that can occur sporadically from October through March in California. They're rumored to mess with people the way they say a full moon does.
“Those winds are worse than mercury in retrograde,” Dad adds.
I roll my eyes and Mom laughs. “You two and your superstitions.”
“What caused the loss was the fact that you and I couldn’t find the back of the net to save our lives. Tate was skating like an amateur. Our top goalie is out and Hendrix was playing like he was made of Swiss cheese.”
“It’s the Anas.”
Nash has spoken, and I roll my eyes again. We make our way to our cars. Mom and Dad are parked across from Nash who is two cars over from me. “Enough about the winds, your dad and I have to talk to you.”
My parents stand side by side in front of their car and my mom loops her arm through Dad’s. I get a weird feeling in my gut.
“Okay…” Nash and I say in unison with the same trepidatious tone.
“We were approached to do this thing,” Dad says and he seems as uneasy as I feel. Never a good sign. “It’s not something we would normally consider but… I mean it’s similar to something I’ve done before but on the team, you know. Never thought… but it’s more about your mom and I left the decision to her.”
“Don’t make decisions in the Santa Anas. They mess with your brain chemistry,” Nash interrupts.
“I made the decision before the winds, Nash,” Mom says and frowns as the winds in question gust and her blonde hair, which is cut in a simple, straight bob flies up and strands smack her in the cheek. She brushes them back into place before continuing. “We’re doing a documentary series.”
“More accurately, we’ve agreed to be filmed for a pilot a documentary series. If it gets picked up, we’ll be in the series,” Dad adds. He’s always the one who talks details.
“For what? Why? How? When?”
“Nash, chill,” I mutter and turn to my mom and wait as patiently as I can for an explanation.
To be honest, I'm just as shocked as my brother. This is out of character for them. As Dad mentioned, there was a documentary about hockey that featured the Saints when he was on them. It was right after he got married, when Mom was pregnant with us, and for years afterward Dad bitched about the process and how much he hated it.
He also had some seriously bad experiences with the press when he was dating Mom, and it almost broke them up, so I wouldn’t think she’d jump at the chance to be on display in anything like this. Guess I was wrong.
“It’s covering hockey life from the family’s perspective,” she explains and she actually sounds excited about it. “You know I have a pretty unique perspective because I grew up in a hockey family and I married a hockey player.”
“So this is a WAGs thing?” Nash looks like he just got a giant whiff of cat piss or something equally rancid.
“No. Not exclusively. They’ll also be featuring hockey moms and dads at a junior level. And retired players, like your dad,” Mom explains. “And some really difficult cases like the families coping with long-term traumatic brain injuries and stuff.”
“So… it’s not another Housewives type of garbage?” Nash confirms.
“Absolutely not,” Mom says firmly. “I agreed to do it because it wasn’t that, and I can showcase my company and how players’ wives have their own careers and ambitions. And I trust the producers because it’s being championed by Tenley Garrison.”
