“Unanswerable questions,” Mav says. “So what’s on your mind? Besides Merry Christmas?”
“Yeah, I play on Christmas, but I’m done in February. Nice try, hockey boy.” I’m always giving him shit about his neverending hockey schedule.
“All right, cut the shit. What’s going on?”
He knows me so well. “Remember that so-called reporter Susan Jackson?”
“The one who wanted to do the small town hero turned hockey star profile on me that actually turned out to be her trolling for all the fucking gossip on the team that she turned into an embarrassing exposé?”
“Great answer. She’s one and the same.”
“Vaguely.”
That makes me laugh, and I know he’s going to love this. “She’s also the one who dragged Jada Allen out of Arkansas and pissed her off enough that she filed a court order to take Cricket away from me.”
“Wait, Susan Jackson was behind you losing your daughter?” His voice rises, but I can tell he’s trying not to wake the baby.
Trust me, I know the drill.
“Yep. She started the whole chain of events.” I quickly fill him in on the stunt they pulled with Jada and Melody, how they found the picture and went off from there. “I want to put these assholes out of business. You in?”
Mav inhales slowly. “I don’t know, bro. I hate to say it, but there’s a real market for that kind of shit. I guess people think we’re famous, so we don’t have feelings or we can take it.”
My jaw grinds, and I stand out of my chair, pacing as I think about what he’s saying. Cricket is on the floor crawlingall over the place, and she’s just the cutest damn thing. We really poured it on at Christmas.
They went with me to Seattle, and we got her a giant stuffed orca, a space-needle chew toy, in addition to all the other Christmas gifts. Uncle Garrett sent her turtles from the restaurant, and Mom has her completely stocked with all the Saints fan gear she’ll need through kindergarten.
We’re back at home, heading into Wildcard Weekend, and Melody has Cricket’s hair styled in these teeny tiny little pom-poms on each side of her head. She’s dressed in a little black and gold onesie with a giant fleur de lis on the front.
Just thinking of the jerks who almost made me lose her and who tried to hurt Melody in front of the whole world has my blood boiling.
“Okay, so maybe we can’t put them out of business, but I want to return the favor. In a way they can feel.”
“We’ll meet them after one of the games, in a dark alley with a giant dumpster, and stuff them in it.”
“I mean, I like that a lot, but no.” I shove a hand in my pocket, brainstorming. “You think they’re sleeping together?”
“Nah, I think Chet swings the other way.”
“Shit.” I take a seat on the couch, and Cricket crawls straight to me, reaching her chubby little hands to my knees and pulling herself to standing. “Look at you!”
Her little eyes widen, and she pumps her knees, doing a little dance as she says, “Da-da-da!”
“Yep, I’m your dada!” I love it, even if I do miss the old Ba-ba days. “Every time I think about those bastards, I see red. Add in what they did to you, and we’ve got to do something.”
“Yeah, but you’re talking about changing the culture, and that’s not going to happen for a long time. We can start the ball rolling, but people have to want to change.”
“I’m not talking about philosophy. I want togotchathemgood and hard, right in the butt. There’s got to be something we can do.”
“We can try.” He exhales slowly. “Let’s put out some feelers and see what comes back. Between the two of us, we have enough friends in the business. I’m sure they’ve encountered these two.”
“Let’s do it.” I lean forward, patting Cricket’s little back. “But hey, I don’t want Melody to know. She won’t like it.”
And it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“I’ll text you. We got this.”
We disconnect, and I lift my baby into my arms as I stand. “Hey, baby girl. You know I love you?”
