Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

TRAVIS

Tomorrow night, Becca was coming over, and he had all sorts of plans to try and impress her. He was crazy about her and felt his heart skip a beat every time he got a text message now – whether it was one of the guys, the coach, or his agent, he was in a better mood and felt quite optimistic. This morning, he hauled in his breakfast while standing and humming happily, stretching the entire time. He was going to make sure the news crews noticed him, wanting to give her a shoutout if he was interviewed after the game.

“You’re in a good mood,” his uncle joked. “What’s got you so perky?”

“Hot date tomorrow night.”

“Where are you going?”

“Here,” Travis chuckled easily. “I thought I’d make popcorn in the theater room, hang out, and just have a nice quiet time.”

“Ahhh… I see.”

“Saturday, you want to go to barbecue?”

“Where at?”

“Her family is grilling, and we’re invited.”

“How serious is this? How long have you been dating this girl, and why haven’t I met her before now?”

“Uncle Davy, Becca is unlike anyone else I’ve ever dated. I mean, she’s swee t, kind, easy to talk to and real. She’s completely down to earth and doesn’t even really follow hockey.”

“Huh, well, that’s good – I suppose.”

“It’s really good because that means she’s not chasing a uniform, but the guy wearing it… and I think I could use someone half-decent in my life.”

“What am I – chopped liver?”

“You’re my uncle, and you don’t count,” Travis laughed as his uncle waved him off, rolling his eyes. “Besides, you know I love you.”

“I love you too, kiddo – and I’m happy for you. You deserve a little happiness in your life, and I just hope that this girl understands what a treasure she’s found.”

“I think I’m the one that found the treasure,” he chuckled shyly, smiling at his uncle as the man rolled his eyes again before ruffling his shaggy hair.

“Eat up – and drink some more water.”

“Will do.”

Hours later, Travis was shoveling in another carb-laden meal, downing more water, and watching the screen blankly, visualizing the plays that the coach wanted them to use and taping his stick. He wasn’t alone. Theo was beside him, taping his stick and muttering under his breath in French. Gerry was on the opposite bench, humming pop music before giving a little dance while seated and going back to taping. One of the guys was reading a passage in the Bible while Dustin had his eyes shut, leaning against the lockers, almost trance-like, and trying to get that last bit of rest before they started warming up.

They all had their routines, praying for luck, knowing it was skill that would get them to victory. It never hurt to pad their chance s, he thought, snapping the tape to change color. His stick was taped white to keep it from being seen easily against the ice, but he was putting one red line on it, hoping to make it distinguishable so he could point out a play to Becca later if he made it on a sports recap.

“Let’s go!” the coach yelled out, yelling all sorts of things at them and slapping them on the shoulders as they passed him at the doorway. Just making his way forward gave Travis a rush. Each player erupted onto the ice as the crowd went wild.

He loved playing a home game because the adoration pouring out of the stands was incredible. He skated around the rink easily, starting to warm up his legs and working the crowd. Gerry was standing there, raising his hands up, encouraging them to yell as an intimidation factor for the other team. They all knew they were listening because it was exactly what he would be doing if it was an away game.

Their names were called out, and each man worked the audience – including Travis. He pretended it was the last game, that Becca was in the stands watching him, and yanked off his helmet, waved at the camera, smiling, and winked for the ladies. His agent loved that move because the fans did – and what the fans wanted, they got.

Every. Single. Time.

“ Tete du cochon , leave some for de’rest of us – eh?” Theo laughed, moving to his side and curling a bulky arm around his neck playfully – also working the camera and blowing kisses. Yeah, they all knew that their pocketbooks were controlled by the fickle fans who loved you one game and hated you the next.

Miss a shot? You were dog meat.

Score a goal, the fans loved you once again.

Travis waved an arm, smiled, and then pointed as Gerry moved to join them. The man’s shaggy blond hair was nearly as long as his and reminded him of Thor, whereas Theo had closely cropped black hair. The trio were nearly inseparable and covered each other on the ice .

“Arrêt don…” Theo growled, and Gerry laughed, reaching past Travis to rub the other man’s shorn head.

“Let the lettuce grow, bro. Ladies love the hair…”

Theo slung several phrases at him, laughing, and pushed Gerry’s arm away. The crowd was eating it up, hollering wildly, and the cameras were swinging in their direction. Oh yes, they loved the camaraderie between them for now.

It was always ‘for now.’

Nothing was permanent. Someone could get traded, benched, or make a bad play, and it could happen anytime. That’s why they took care of each other, relied on each other, riding this wave as long as they could. They didn’t cuss, not like the other players did; they’d stopped sleeping around and getting trashed at the bars – all of it. It had been Gerry’s idea after Travis’s car wreck.

“I wanna be an inspiration to some kid – not a warning.”

Those words struck home in so many ways. Theo was going through a nasty divorce at the time and now had custody of his son. Gerry had an ex-girlfriend turn down his engagement ring because she was embarrassed to take him home to her mother. They each had their reasons, and it was rubbing off on the rest of the team, making them the sweethearts of the NHL. Everyone enjoyed a bad boy image, but the crowd really adored the ‘golden boy’ image more.

And his team had several of them now – except Dustin. He heard the crowd roar, and sure enough, the goalie was hitting the ice and stretching. It was nearly obscene as he was sliding his knees up, warming up the ligaments and joints for the abuse that was about to occur. He never understood how that man could slam to his knees, splayed sideways, repeatedly – and still walk at the end of the season.

Travis heard laughter behind him as several of the other players rushed them, hopping into the limelight and working the camera. Everyone was there, posing, waving, blowing kisses. Oh yes, Coyotes were the media’s sweethearts in one way or another - and it was wonderful.

The horn sounded, and Theo yelled out beside him, shaking his stick in the air.

“Let’s gooooo!”

An hour later, Travis was covered in sweat and breathing hard. He was slapping his stick on the ice in a threatening manner, waiting for the signal to go for the puck – and heard Theo mouthing beside him, as usual.

“Eh, Thibodeaux?” Theo began and Travis winced, chancing a glance at Gerry on the other side of the man with the mouth. Gerry rolled his eyes in silent understanding. Why on earth did Theo have to pick the biggest player to harass every single time? “Dis à ta mère that she was wrong – the rash is contagious- tres malade! Espèce de gar?on stupide…”

”Whoa, boy, look at this burlesque beast. We’ve got ourselves a Buffet Bandit o’er here. Ain’t no Shrinky-Dink, unless we are talking about… ” Gerry held up his pinky finger and wagged it, causing several of the men to laugh around them.

Travis froze as the player from the other team straightened up, nearly six inches taller than any of them – and a good eighty pounds heavier.

“I’m not dumb – and I speak French. So, who’s the dumb one now, Batiste,” the man smarted back – and Travis immediately elbowed Theo, silently telling him to let it go.

No such luck.

“Tu me l'as s?rement montré, crétin…” Theo laughed boldly, bucking up t o the bigger man like it was nothing. The dude was almost a foot taller than Theo, but his temper made up for that.

“Craaaap, Theo,” Travis hissed under his breath as the man’s face grew dark, and he flung off his gloves onto the ice. He knew ‘crétin’ meant ‘moron’ – and obviously so did Thibodeaux.

“Apporte-le - espèce de gros animal stupide!” Theo screamed and threw his gloves, indicating they were about to see that famous temper in action once more – and the crowd loved it. A roar surged in the stands as Theo and the man, snapping at each other.

“Yo, Travis – ‘gros animal stupide’ means ‘ya big dumb animal’… We’re gonna teach you French one phrase at a time, my brother,” and Gerry flung down his gloves, hollering once more – looking at Theo and then toward the hulking brute who was glaring at them. “Allons-y, cochonrie!”

Let’s go, piglet, really?

Travis sighed.

It was ‘go’ time, and they were about to brawl once more. Why waste the energy? The score was up, and they were doing great. Plus he was pretty sure the last shot he passed to Gerry was going to be on SportsCenter, and just as he was about to fling off his gloves, Theo was already in the man’s face, yelling up at him in a mixture of French and broken English.

Wasn’t that man scared of anything?

Only to have the entire thing interrupted by a whistle before it really got started. Theo and Gerry were ordered off the ice to the penalty box for ten minutes, and Thibodeaux wasn’t. The crowd booed at the referees and broke out in a cheer once more as two other teammates skated forward to be his guards.

Not a moment later, the puck was dropped.

Travis dove forward, slamming his stick into the space where the puck used to be, and cursed under his breath. The other guy slammed it away and was guiding it past him like he was a roadblock to be ignored. He pivoted, immediately started pumping his legs to get some speed, determined to get the puck – and did. Sliding sideways, he sprayed a fan of ice and used that brief crevice in the ice to push off, bursting in the other direction, only to have the puck stolen again.

Dang it!

And saw Thibodeaux’s stick fly upward as he chopped down at the puck – sending it flying in his direction. The black disc was launched angrily in his direction, and the last conscious thought Travis had was, ‘ this is gonna leave a mark… ’ as pain exploded behind his eyes.

He slumped boneless, down onto the ice.

Travis groaned as he was jostled around, trying to take an assessment of his body and what had just happened. Obviously, he’d taken a puck straight to the face. He could taste blood, smell the scent of it mixed with his own musky sweat, and his ears were ringing fiercely.

“Giroux! Giroux! Hey, son, can you hear me?” The coach was there beside him, which meant he wasn’t on the ice anymore. He was either headed to the locker room for assessment – or the emergency room.

“Whaaaa happened?” Travis managed to choke out and it sounded awfully nasally even to his own ears as he coughed and felt something dislodge in his mouth. That was a disgusting sensation, especially mixed with the salty taste gagging him.

“ Mon frere…” Travis heard as a hand grasped his, hanging on tightly. Theo . “Are you okay?”

“I told you two morons to pick one or the other and WEAR IT! Bird cage or fishbowl, I don’t care, but cover your faces!” the coach was screaming angrily. “Where’s the equipment manager? I’m gonna have his job over this one!”

“Theo?” he uttered and spat up blood, cracking an eye. “Pick… a… smaller… guy next time,” he whispered and heard Theo’s choked laugh that sounded almost emotional.

“You got it, bonhomme …”

The lights were whizzing overhead, and he was flinching in reaction to each one, hearing the chaos around him.

“Giroux, I’ve called your uncle, and he’s gonna meet us at the ER… are you with me, son?” the coach was saying, and his whole face felt like it was on fire.

He wasn’t sure how fast that puck was going, but one thing for certain: something wasn’t right and definitely broken. Anytime you passed out on the ice, they sent you to get checked, especially if they suspected something more - just to be on the safe side. Each bump sent a flash of burning pain to his nose.

Hockey was a violent sport.

Travis had been cut by another guy’s blade before on his left shoulder and had his right one dislocated a few years ago. Gerry had a scar on the back of his head where he was nearly scalped in a fight once when he used his helmet to wallop another player – and slipped. There was a reason his hair was long and shaggy now. Even Theo had a slice in one of his eyebrows, leaving a line. They were a rough bunch, and he loved them like family.

“Becca… oh gosh…” he choked out, realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to text or call her after the game if he was going to the emergency room. It would be on the news that someone got injured seriously, and he didn’t want her to worry – especially if he missed their date tomorrow.

“ Pour que what? Because? Because of what, mon frere ?”

“Nooo… RAAA-Becca,” he enunciated, chuckling and spitting blood out of his mouth as he cracked open an eye to look at Theo, realizing they were getting in the ambulance. “It’s English… and her name.”

“I’m French – and I’ve got your phone,” Theo grinned. “I’ll let ‘er know.”