Chapter 10

Foster

During the regular season, many of the players head over to Mario’s, a nearby bar and restaurant, to celebrate victories. A lot of the dedicated fans hang out there and it’s always a good time. It lets the Titans players mingle with the fans on a grassroots level and I’ve been so impressed by how respectful they generally are with us.

But tonight, some of the players decided to meet up at Jerry’s Lounge, a low-key biker bar owned by Hendrix Bateman’s girlfriend, Stevie. It’s where most of the players have been hanging when they don’t want to be bothered by fans. Since Hendrix started dating Stevie and some of the players started hanging out here more regularly, the patrons who frequent the bar have just gotten used to us. We’re treated like regular people here and not star athletes, which is nice for a change.

Rafferty drove King and me over to Jerry’s. When we walk in, we get a few chin lifts from some bikers sitting at the bar. I don’t see Stevie around and I’m not sure if Hendrix will be here, but I know a few other players are coming.

“There’s North,” Rafferty says as he points to a table near the windows.

Rafferty is a third-line defenseman from the Edmonton Grizzlies who replaced Mason Lavoie in a huge five-player trade that Callum Derringer worked on this summer. He’s a hulking figure topping out at almost six six, and even though I’m six three, I feel small walking in behind him.

We walk toward North Paquette—joining me on my line as a right-winger—who was acquired from the Seattle Storm. He’s lightning fast and has some of the quickest stick work I’ve ever seen. I’m excited to be on the same line as it’s rounded out nicely with the addition of Atlas Karolak from the Columbus Hawks as our left-winger. With Camden Poe and Hendrix as our defensemen, our second line is going to be dynamite.

But while all these guys were newsworthy trades in their own right, no one created more buzz in the sporting world than when Penn Navarro accepted the Titans’ offer to head up the team as the first-line center, replacing Coen Highsmith. Penn was a free agent with the Florida Spartans who just missed out on the championship in a hard-fought battle against the Dallas Mustangs that went the full seven games. Most would’ve thought he’d stay with the Spartans because he could probably still taste how close he was to victory, but I guess the one hundred million dollars offered for an eight-year contract was too tempting to pass up. I know I sure as fuck wouldn’t have.

And the Titans had no problem paying that type of money as they effectively maneuvered the salary cap and stretched the contract out over eight years. It was a gamble management was willing to take since Penn is the best player in the league by a long shot.

They gambled because they don’t want to wait for a championship and I’m personally glad about that. I’ve been in the league ten years and haven’t come close and I’d like a taste of that level of victory.

At any rate, the excitement for this season has reached a fever pitch. Even tonight’s game was exciting because the fans were so loud, the stadium was vibrating. The Titans are, after all, the darlings of the hockey world. We are a rebuilt team rising from the ashes of a plane crash that killed everyone the season before last. The fact that Brienne Norcross and Callum Derringer are building a team full of highly rated players tells the world they’re seriously gunning for the championship and that has in turn ignited the fans in their quest to cheer us on.

“I wonder if Penn will come,” I say as we head toward North’s table.

“Doubt it,” King says from behind me. “He hasn’t come to any gathering since camp started.”

Penn is definitely a bit of a mystery. He’s kept to himself at training camp, not willing to engage in small talk between drills. When he’s working out, he has his earbuds in and that look on his face that says he doesn’t want to be disturbed. While he’ll begrudgingly stop to sign autographs if fans are around, he does it quickly and without engaging in conversation. In fact, I’d think he was completely mute if I hadn’t heard him curse in frustration when someone made a mistake or wasn’t playing up to potential.

Penn didn’t dress for a single preseason game because he didn’t need to. His position is the most secure on the team.

Truth be told, my position is secure too. I did play a few minutes tonight, but it wasn’t necessary. I think Coach put me out there just to get the competitive blood flowing. Same with Rafferty, King, North and Atlas. These were all trades that cost the Titans dearly, so they’re not going to be hacking it down in the minors.

“About time you grandmas got here,” North says as we take seats around the table.

North is a cool guy. I actually got to hang with him a bit this summer as he attended our assistant coach Gage Heyward’s wedding in Charleston, South Carolina. North and Gage played together on the Seattle Storm and are close friends. He and I did a few too many shots at the reception and I have vague memories of a dance-off, which I wish I remembered none of because I can’t dance for shit.

But man, what a wedding it was. Held outdoors at a country club under massive sprawling oaks laden with dripping Spanish moss, Gage’s soon-to-be wife Jenna arrived in a carriage drawn by four pristine white horses. When she stepped out with the help of her father, her dress billowed around her, making her look every bit the princess Gage thought her to be.

I’ve been to a few weddings in my lifetime, especially since becoming a professional hockey player because someone is always getting married, but Gage and Jenna’s nuptials were by far the most romantic and beautiful I’ve ever seen.

A waitress appears, a pretty little thing with sunny blond hair caught up in a high ponytail, a low-cut black T-shirt and minuscule white shorts.

She smiles genially at us, but we definitely look strange among the faded jeans, leather jackets and biker boots. Since we all came straight from the arena where we’re required to wear suits to and from, we’re dressed up, although we ditched our coats and ties before coming inside.

“What will you boys be having?” she asks and then jerks her head toward the bar. “Big Earl said this round is on him to celebrate the end of the preseason.”

We all order beers and when she walks away, Rafferty whistles low as he stares shamelessly at her ass. “What do you think the chances are I’ll score with her tonight?”

“No clue,” I reply as I glance once more at her retreating form and then turn back to him with a sly grin. “But the more beer you drink, I’m betting you think your chances will increase.”

The other guys guffaw. Rafferty smirks and shakes his head. “Actually, I’m thinking my chances are low. She was making moon eyes at pretty boy here.”

Rafferty points at King, whose eyes flare wide. “Me? Pretty boy? What the fuck?”

I snort because I know exactly what Rafferty means. Jack Kingston—King to all his friends, family and teammates—could have a stellar career as a male model if the hockey gig didn’t work out. I’m by no means an expert on what modeling agencies look for but I’ve seen enough women in the last few weeks with their tongues practically hanging out of their mouths. He’s got dark hair he wears fairly short and the lightest brown-gold eyes I’ve ever seen, framed by lashes so thick, it’s almost as if he’s wearing makeup. Not to wax poetic, but the dude has got the most perfectly symmetrical face with not a single plane out of line. His teeth are white and straight and clearly he’s never taken a puck or hard elbow there.

What’s most adorable about this young guy is that he’s not really aware of it. When he looks at Rafferty in shock, it’s genuine. I can’t figure out if he’s dense or naive, but I imagine if he paid attention to the women around him, he’d be getting laid… a lot.

Rafferty’s head swings my way and he changes the subject. “What’s the deal with your new nanny?”

My hackles rise slightly as I don’t like the intimation in his voice. It’s not one of friendly conversation but rather of romantic interest.

“What do you mean, what’s the deal? She watches my kid. She’s good at what she does. End of story.”

North nudges me with an elbow. “Come on, dude… she’s hot as fuck. Surely, you’ve noticed. I mean hell, we all thought you hired her because she’s hot as fuck. If you’re not tapping that there is something seriously wrong with you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I say with a forced laugh. “I’m a professional. Of course I’m not tapping that and there’s no way I’d let any of you near her either.”

“Why not?” King asks. “We’re all good dudes.”

“Maybe so, but all I need is for one of you guys to break her heart and she quits and then I’m screwed.”

The guys laugh and Rafferty shakes his head. “We’re just fucking with you. But she’s smokin’… you know that, right?”

“Not going to argue with you there,” I mutter. “She’s incredible with Bowie Jane and that’s all that matters to me. Now let’s talk about something more important… like how fucking awesome this team is going to be this year.”

North drums his fingertips on the table. “Beyond awesome but the pressure to live up to expectations will be huge on everyone.”

“Penn’s got the biggest load on his shoulders,” I muse thoughtfully. “Yeah, we’re all good in our own right but that guy is a phenom. One of those players who comes along about every twenty years.”

“The real test will be when we start regular practice next week,” Rafferty says, “and how soon will Penn start clicking with his linemates.”

“Hard to tell since he didn’t play any of the games and drills were done on a rotating basis, so you never played with the same guys more than a few times.”

The waitress returns with our beers and as she sets them before us, her eyes keep drifting over to King, oblivious as he scrolls on his phone. I reach into my wallet and put a twenty on her tray. “Here’s a tip.”

She blinks in surprise before smiling. “Thanks.”

When she leaves, Rafferty mutters. “Yeah… no chance with her but King will get lucky tonight.”

“Get lucky with who?” King asks as he looks up.

“The waitress, man.” Rafferty throws his thumb over his shoulder in the direction she just walked. “Go get her number.”

King shakes his head. “Nah. Not my style.”

“It’s not your style to pick up or take out or hook up with a beautiful woman who’s clearly willing?” North asks with a laugh.

A sly grin forms on King’s face. “Now, that’s just too easy.” His eyes cut to mine, twinkling with mischief. “Your nanny though. What’s her name?”

“Mazzy,” I reply, my throat weirdly dry that attention has turned back to her. I most definitely didn’t want to share her name, but there’s no reason not to.

“Mazzy,” King says, as if he’s trying it out on his tongue. “I like that a lot. She looks like she’d be hard to get. A woman like that would be worth the effort.”

“And I’m telling you don’t bother with the effort,” I growl, and all the guys bust out laughing.

“Oh, man… you got it bad for her,” Rafferty says with sympathy.

“So obvious,” North agrees.

“Shut the fuck up, all of you,” I retort. “I don’t have anything for her. She’s a great person who happens to be a great nanny, and yeah… she’s gorgeous, but none of that means I’ve got anything for her.”

“Got it bad,” Rafferty repeats.

I glance at King who’s nodding. “So bad.”

“It’s totally inappropriate,” I mutter, picking up my bottle and taking a long pull.

“Makes it all the hotter,” North suggests with a waggle of his eyebrows.

I rise from the table, taking my beer with me. “I’ll get the next round. I suggest you find something else to talk about. Here’s an idea… why don’t we talk hockey?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafferty says with a wave of his hand. “We’ll lay off the nanny comments.”

“Good,” I say, pointing my index finger of the hand holding the bottle at him. “Because I’d hate to knock your teeth down your throat.”

Rafferty nudges King’s arm. “That’s cute. The forward talking smack to defensemen.”

“I throw a mean punch,” I warn him, but it’s all in jest.

I walk away from their laughter as I head to the bar to order another round. I’m glad for the slight break from the conversation because every time they pointed out that I have the hots for Mazzy, internally, I wasn’t denying it. I think a little of me is in awe of her and she’s a hard woman not to be attracted to.

But like I said… it’s inappropriate and needs to be permanently banished from my brain.