“Ali Antonova,” I tried. “The blonde wearing—”
“I know Ali,” he snapped, glaring at me. “How doyouknow her?”
“She’s an old friend,” I explained. “I just wanted to see if I could talk to her? Maybe you could get a message to her for me?”
“What’s going on?” a younger guy skater asked, coming to stand next to him. He had curly brown hair cut down short on the sides and an easy-going smile. He threw his arm around his Russian buddy, who was still glaring at me.
“Says he’s looking for Ali,” the Russian answered, not taking hiseyes off me.
New guy’s eyes darted to mine. “Where are you from?”
“Michigan,” I answered.
Ali’s partner’s face turned red as he started speaking in rapid Russian to the other guy.
It dawned on me then what this sounded like.An old friend. From Michigan. Looking for her.
“Oh, fuck. No, I'm not him, I’m not her ex.” I shook my head. “I’m not, I swear. I’m her friend.” I pulled out my wallet and quickly found the crumpled old photo I always kept on me of the six of us pond skating when we were young. “Here. See. Friends. Nothing more.” I held my hands up in innocence.
His jaw hardened as he assessed the photo. I had to fight myself from snatching it back because it was one of my most prized possessions. When he finally shoved the picture back at my chest, he looked at me with a stern face. “We don’t allow tourists backstage.” He spat the titletouristlike it was a bad word. “You have a whole ship to explore.” He shooed me away like I was an annoying gnat. “Go.”
I could feel my chances of seeing her slipping through my fingers. Desperation wrapped around my heart in a vice-like grip.
“Just tell her…” I swallowed hard. “Tell her I’ll be up on the deck tonight,” I tried.
“Go,” he ordered again in a firm-voice.
Blowing out a disappointed breath, I turned on my heel and shuffled back across the empty ice.
It was good that she had people looking out for her, she needed protection.
But not fromme.
From their reactions, I highly doubted they’d even tell her I’d be up on the deck, but I’d go there anyway.
I always thought best in the fresh air under a sky full of stars, and I needed to do some solid brainstorming to figure out how to face her.
Wandering up to the deck, I laid out on a pool chair, thinking through how I should go about this. I’d usually ask Colt or Kappy for advice, but again, I didn’t want them to know I was here.
After contemplating and keeping an eye out for the next half hour or so, I decided I’d get one drink. If I finished it and she still wasn’t here…well, then I’d have to take that as my answer and leave.
I scanned the deck the entire time I stood in line at the bar, but there were still no signs of her short athletic frame or blonde hair.
Beer finally in hand, I turned to head back to my seat and stopped short.
My heart practically jumped in my throat as I backed up quickly, bumping into the guy behind me who was already busy ordering. “Can I get one more of these?” I spoke over him.
“Are you serious?” the guy in line asked.
“Please.” I wasn’t over begging at this point.
Recognition dawned on his face as he looked me up and down. “Oh shit, you’re JP McQuaid!”
I grimaced, hoping no one else heard him, but for once, I wasn’t above using hockey to get what I needed. “Yeah, that’s me.” I nodded hurriedly and swung my neck around to keep an eye on Ali. “Can I get one more beer?” I asked. “I know this is rude, but it’s kinda important.”
The guy laughed and clapped me on the back with his beefy hand. “I’ll get you ten more, bud. That Cup game was one to remember. Damn, how was it playing in the finals?”
Afraid I’d lose track of her, my eyes kept darting back to Ali. “Yeah, thanks,” I mumbled distractedly. “It was good. Really good.”
