Rising From The Ice

Britt

Tonight, it's more than just knots and niceties—it's a toast to the unexpected turns our lives can take. As Heath dresses up to tackle a new challenge with a clean-cut look that's as crisp as his slapshot, I find myself pondering the mysterious absence of dates among our eligible bachelors. Our town's newest legal eagle takes the lead, ensuring our players aren't just heroes on the ice. Pull up a chair at the Slammers' office—tonight we redefine teamwork off the rink, proving loyalty isn't just a word; it's our way of life. So, here's to sharp suits, sharper negotiations, and the ties—both literal and figurative—that bind us even closer together.

Playlist: "Come Together" by The Beatles

I'm already waiting at the Slammers' office when Heath wanders in. I'm so used to seeing him in his uniform or dressed for a night grilling wieners with the guys. In his sharp, fitted suit, I have to admit, he cleans up nice. He could totally fit in back home.

Which makes me wonder: how come I've never seen him with a date? In fact, I've never seen any of the guys bring a date around. I never put it together before, because Joely and Beth are always at the bar, and Lynsie tags along with Heath sometimes. Pru doesn't count unless she's a cougar on the sly, and Giselle, who owns the salon, doesn't seem like she's into hockey or hockey players. There are eligible ladies, and the guys are all right once you get past the fact that they turn into children when there are more than three of them in a room together. So, what gives?

That, I decide, is a quandary for another time. Right now, we have work to do.

I wave Heath over to sit beside me. "Franklin isn't here yet, which is good. I wanted to let you know that I have done serious research." I tap my Excel spreadsheet. "I know what every player in this league makes down to the penny. I know their signing bonuses, and I know their endorsements. Even more importantly, I talked to Tierney, so I know what Franklin can afford. Buckle up and enjoy the ride."

Heath leans back in the flimsy plastic chair and man-spreads. "I get it. I'll settle, like usual."

I jab a finger in his direction. "No, you won't. We don't settle. We ask to be equitably compensated for the experience provided. You provide a lot. Your stats are impressive. You're awesome for team morale. You're loyal. You're talented. You serve, you deserve. Got it?"

Heath shifts uncomfortably. "I don't know…"

I narrow my eyes. "Are you, or are you not, playing at a professional level?"

"I've got my fingers crossed, but I want to stay with the guys until I get called up." Heath casts me a pleading glance. "The team is what matters to me. It's not about the money."

I lean closer. "Do not say that at the conference table."

He gulps and shrinks back from me. "What can I say?"

"Preferably? Nothing at all. Your job today is to sit there and look good."

He chuckles, but his posture is still wary. "I can do that."

I pat his shoulder, and he jumps. "I don't bite, Heath. At least, I'm not going to bite you. I work for you, remember? Besides, I don't want to take advantage of Franklin, and I know he can't compete with some of the more financially lucrative organizations in this league, but I don't want to see him take advantage of you, either. What I'm saying is, that I'm tough but fair."

Heath tips his head to one side. He seems bemused by my intensity, although I don't know that it should come as a surprise. He's never seen me in this role before, but I'm hardly passive by nature. "Thanks, Britt," he murmurs. "That's nice to hear."

I nod, making sure all my papers are in order. "I'm only being honest."

The door opens, and Franklin strolls in, with his own lawyer on his heels. This must be Randall, the only other lawyer in town.

Franklin spreads his arms wide. "Heath, good to see you. And… Britt. You're back. In what capacity, exactly?"

I get to my feet and smooth my pencil skirt. "You weren't expecting me? I'm Heath's new agent."

He chuckles. "I thought you were a publicist. Are you even qualified to do this?"

I hold out my hand. When he accepts it, I grip it tight. Years of working with men who think that the law is made by the guy with the biggest dick has taught me that a firm handshake goes a long way. I squeeze Frankin's fingers tighter than is probably warranted, but not as tight as I could. The hand grippers in my little home gym have really paid off.

"Newsflash, Franklin. I'm actually a lawyer. I was just helping out a friend when Tierney left. In my other life, I'm the Director of Legal for a huge marketing firm in the Twin Cities. I hope those credentials work for you?"

Franklin gives me a sickly smile. "Well, I liked you better as a publicist."

"Nobody goes into law to make friends. Isn't that right… Randall?" I turn my attention to Franklin's lawyer, a tall, narrow fellow with white hair who looks a bit like a genial scarecrow.

He laughs. "That's right. Randall Kutz, but you can call me Randy. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Jensen. Oh, yes, I know you." He grins at my raised eyebrow. "I never miss a game, and I seem to recall you having a little mishap on the ice a while back."

Oh, lovely. The only other lawyer around saw me puke my guts out before I even knew his name. I expect him to make a joke about my delicate constitution, or how this isn't a job for women, or something along those lines.

But he doesn't, and I remember that I'm in Sorrowville, and things are done differently here. Everybody knows everyone's secrets, and if Randy tried to hold them over my head, Heath would probably know some story about him that would put him back in his place.

Truly, I'm in a different world up here.

The four of us settle around Franklin's meeting table, with Randy and me sitting across from each other. I get right to business. "So, Franklin, I know what you pay your guys. I also know what the industry standard is for players with Heath's experience and proven track record. There is a disconnect."

Franklin folds his arms on the table. "Did you take into account that I don't have the same deep pockets as some of the team owners?"

"I did." I open the folder I brought with me. "I also took into account the new Zamboni you purchased. And I saw how much revenue increased after Tierney started with the team. You know… when I was a publicist."

Randy snickers and offers no comment.

Franklin shoots his lawyer a glare. "I knew this was going to bite me in the ass somehow. No good deed goes unpunished."

I keep my voice mild even as I go for the throat. "Which good deed? The one where you start paying your stars what they deserve so I don't have to actually respond to other, better offers?"

Heath, who has been following my instructions and keeping quiet, sits bolt upright in his chair. "There's another team interested? Which one?"

"Multiple." I shake my head. "But we can't talk about it now. If Franklin doesn't meet our terms, we'll discuss it after. Trust me, Heath, I have your best interests in mind during any and all discussions and negotiations."

For all his talk about how much he loves his team, Heath is clearly enthused by the prospect of a new offer. He rubs his hands together and grins. "Great." He stops rubbing his hands abruptly and wrinkles his nose. "As long as it's not Bloomingdale. Or the Warhawks. I fucking hate those guys."

Through clenched teeth, I tell him, "It's not."

Heath pumps his arm. "Yes!"

Franklin's eye twitches. Even Randy seems taken aback by this development.

Heath realizes that we're all staring at him. He clears his throat. "I mean… let's discuss this after." He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and smooths his features back into an impassive, blank stare. "But I look really good, right, Britt?"

"You look like a man with options." I bite back a smile. "What do you say, Franklin?"

Franklin turns to his lawyer. Randy shrugs. Franklin tips his head to one side. Randy widens his eyes. Their silent communication couldn't be more obvious: I've played my best card, and neither of these men have a rebuttal.

At least, when Randy fails to produce a solution to his problems, Franklin pulls a kerchief from his pocket and dabs his sweating brow. "I never should've hired Tierney," he mumbles.

I scoff. "Right. As I understand it, Tierney was sent as a favor. You stuck her in a shack. Luckily, it all worked out for everyone involved, because frankly, her father scares me."

He folds the kerchief, unfolds it, refolds it. I like Franklin, but I also like making him sweat. I am a creature of mystery and contradiction. "It wasn't that bad," he says.

"I saw it," I remind him.

Randy wiggles one hand back and forth. "It was kind of a shack, Franklin."

The team owner groans. "Whose side are you on?"

"Your side, Frank. You know that. But without Tierney, you wouldn't have a team to negotiate for, and Heath's one of your star players. I'd hate to see you lose him. Besides, he's one of my grandson's favorites. Imagine if he went to play for a competing team? Everyone would be calling you an idiot."

Okay, I love this guy. Franklin sinks lower in his seat and whimpers.

Seeing that his client has surrendered, the lawyer turns to me. "As you can see, I can appreciate your stance, Miss Jensen. I respect both of these men, and while I don't know you well, I can see that you're a formidable negotiator. I assume that you have a contract drafted already?"

I slide the paper across the table to him in response.

Randy reads it in silence, his eyes flicking back and forth as he skims the terms. Based on my research, I haven't asked anything unreasonable.

He seems to agree because once he's finished reading, he slides the paper toward Franklin, whose eyes bulge at the number. "This is fair."

"You think I should sign this?" he asks Randy in disbelief.

I cut in before the other man can respond. "I think you want to keep Heath on your team. If you do, the Slammers will get a reputation as being the team to watch, since you've already had a few guys go on to play in the NHL. What you don't want is a reputation for letting good players get away from you because you didn't treat them right. That's a recipe for disaster since no one will want to come and play here."

Franklin sucks his teeth as he reads and rereads the contract. "Shit," he murmurs at last.

"If you'd like some time to think about it, Heath and I can discuss his options while you review your finances?" I offer.

Franklin groans and holds out one hand to his lawyer. Without comment, Randy slips a fountain pen into his palm.

Heath's eyes bulge as Franklin scribbles his signature on the contract. By the time we get up from the table, his salary for the next season has jumped almost thirty percent.

"Damn," Heath breathes as we head out the door. "That was intense. You're, like, good at that stuff."

"It was only Franklin," I say, secretly pleased by the praise. "And I could probably have pushed the number higher, but I didn't want to make things uncomfortable for either of you. I'm sure his lawyer would have pushed back if he thought I was being greedy."

"That's nice and all, Britt, but I'm serious." Heath walks me to my car stops there, hands in his pockets, and musters a shy grin. "I know this is gonna sound kind of backhanded, but I wasn't sure you could do this. Not because I thought you were incompetent!" he adds hastily. "You're just, you know, from the city. We do things differently around here, and I didn't want to upset Franklin. But I've known Randy forever, he's friends with my dad, and I know he wouldn't have stepped unless he thought it was necessary. So… thank you. For what you did, but also for doing it our way." He sticks out a hand toward me.

I shake it, with a lot less force than I used on Franklin. "You're welcome." I mean it, too.

"Is it okay if I ask you to meet me at Power Play? I always bought Kenny a drink after I signed a new contract, but I don't want to step on Holden's toes."

"I could go for some cheese curds, now that you mention it."

Heath grins. "I'll see you there."

* * *

Given the hour, I expect the place to be dead, but it's packed. Most of the team is there, along with other folks from around town. Boone and Brogan are inflating balloons, while Joely hangs them around the bar. Pennants are hanging from the heavy beams over our heads, and two players—Wolfe and Shep—are balanced precariously on barstools to pin up a multicolored sign over the bar, of the sort you'd see at a kid's birthday party. Holden is conspicuously absent.

"What's the occasion?" I ask Joely.

She gawks at me like a deer in the headlights. "I just do what I'm told."

I have no idea what that means, but I can at least intuit who's responsible. I leave Heath to chat with his friends and stomp over to Beth, who's standing in the middle of the room and directing the action like a salt-and-pepper-haired, female Napoleon overseeing the Siege of Toulon.

"What's with the decorations?" I demand.

Beth clears her throat. "Oh, you know… just thought I'd gussy up the place."

"Oh, yeah?" I point an accusatory finger toward Shep and Wolfe. "Then why does the sign across the bar say Good Luck?"

That gets a smile from her. "My only other option was Happy Birthday."

"Is this, by any chance, a celebration of the excellent contract I just negotiated on Heath's behalf?"

Beth smirks at me. "Sure. Or you could think of it as a going away party. If you wanted."

I'm fresh off a legal victory, and I do not need her attitude. "For the last time. I'm not leaving. In fact, I'm going to negotiate everyone's contract and stay here forever. And since I'm feeling magnanimous, I'll even negotiate the contracts of your devil's spawn."

The chatter in the room dies away as everyone turns to look at me. I didn't realize how loud I'd gotten, but fuck it. I whirl toward Beth's oldest son.

"Bennett… did you hear that, you Grumpy McGrumperton? You're next! I'm negotiating your contract whether you like it or not. My delicate stomach can't risk seeing a full moon."

Bennett ties off a balloon that one of his younger brothers just finished inflating. Both Boone and Brogan are sweating and gasping for breath. Looks like my victory party is testing their lung capacity.

"Whatever it takes," Bennett drawls. "I could use a pay bump. And if you can get me a deal as good as the one you got for Heath, I might even show you my teeth."

Brogan cackles. "Thank God you're being reasonable for a change. I thought we were about to have a manfrontation."

Shep's nose wrinkles. "But Britt's a girl."

"And yet… her balls are bigger than Benny's. ‘Nuff said."

"Good talk." I lift my chin and plant my feet so that everyone will see that I'm serious about my intentions. I've found my niche in Sorrowville, and I'm starting to see a future here. No matter what Beth says, I'm not staying out of spite. I'm staying because I want to, dammit. "You're welcome in advance."