2. Meet the Heartbreaker

TWO

MEET THE HEARTbrEAKER

KRIS KRINGER

I go into every interview with one thought: Please don’t call me the Hockey Heartbreaker. The nickname leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But the famous Martin brothers, who once played in the football league and now run a popular sports talk show podcast, won’t leave it alone.

“So, Heartbreaker, how are things in the love department for you these days? It’s been what, a few years since the fiasco in Los Angeles? Have you moved on?” Asks Trey. The youngest of the two is dating Skylar, who is arguably the hottest female pop star in America.

“Uh. Next question.” I sneer, then laugh into my microphone while watching the two of them on my computer screen. We’re recording this today, and it should be up and viewable on their podcast next week. Of course, Kerry Anderson, the fourth person on the video conference call with us, is not amused by this topic, if her death glare and rolling eyes are any indication.

As the head of PR for the team, she and my coach already gave me the speech about toning down my playboy reputation once I set foot in Portland. The Frasier family who own the team have promised Portlanders that the organization would always be focused on clean family fun. It was a risk when they traded for me, the Hockey Heartbreaker, to begin with. My agent also made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that I’m here to play hard for the team, not to fuck around.

“You once had a pretty serious thing with that actress, Tia, in L.A. Hey, I know how it is to date a celebrity. I mean, I wasn’t prepared when news broke of my relationship with Skylar. From the swarms of media attention and always being followed by photographers, to having to schedule every minute of our time together and living under constant scrutiny, it’s a rough way to live,” says Trey, sympathetic to my plight.

“ Your lifestyle is rough? Try having three kids under the age of five, man. Come spend a day at my house and you’ll know what rough really is.” JD, the oldest, is married to a famous influencer who vlogs daily about growing their family, their lives on full display for millions of American to watch. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You just spent Christmas Day with us. You saw the craziness, Uncle T,” JD laughs.

I admire them both, but my past relationship with Tia didn’t turn out as fabulous as theirs, and I’m not about to provide details of its demise. Besides, thanks to a certain reporter in L.A., most of it was well documented in the news at the time.

I chuckle at their brotherly camaraderie. “Some of us aren’t as lucky as you two. Los Angeles proved nothing but an inconvenient blip on my career radar and love life. I was more than happy to get the hell out of there. Playing for the Denver Aspens the past few years has been incredible, though. My teammates, the coaches, actually the entire experience has been amazing.”

“Then the A-holes had to trade you away to Portland,” JD conveniently reminds me and cracks up.

“Yeah, to the Glaciers. Who came up with that name? Just saying, it doesn’t sound sexy at all.” Trey chortles, keeping up the smack talk while I can tell Kerry is less than pleased.

“Trades are all a part of the game. You two know how it is in sports.” Although I shrug it off, I hate having to talk about the trade, as well. I give them the answer Kerry would approve of, though. “I’ll start practicing with the new team this week. The Glaciers are looking good so far this year. They’ve got talented players, and with the recent trades, including my own, we’ll make a run for the playoffs and hopefully bring home the championship cup. I’ll put in two hundred percent effort. I’m pleased to be in Portland, to make this my new home, and I can’t wait to meet the fans.”

“Okay, now we’ll turn the mics off and you can tell us how you really feel.” JD continues to joke around about it with Trey, while I keep things light until the end. When the brothers click off the call, I’m all too happy to be done with it. The entire interview would have been much more casual and fun without Kerry on the line scrutinizing every word I said.

I stay on the line with her once the brothers have left. She sports a frosted blonde pixie cut, and is one of those women who can make a short hairdo look sexy as hell, despite the aggravation written all over her face.

“I think that went pretty well. Don’t you?” I try charming her with a confident smile to keep it positive. The thing is, I had my worst year of playing last year thanks to a minor injury. When I recovered and returned to playing, it was as if my stick and skates were cursed by the hockey gods. My power play stats were stellar, though, being assigned to a special team designed to score when we had the extra man advantage on the ice.

I still feel I have a lot to offer the sport and the team, and my agent believes in me as well, helping convince Portland I was worth the trade. They hoped I could bring some of the magic back to my ice time, and I guess I hoped a fresh start here would allow me to do that. Unfortunately, my reputation as the Hockey Heartbreaker precedes me.

“I suppose it went well, but Trey and JD are buffoons.” She scoffs in the haughty way, turning up her nose. “Now that I’ve seen how well you speak in an interview, though, I’ll work on setting up a few others with more respectable media.”

“So, this was a test?” I ask, offended.

“Call it whatever you like. But you passed.”

Hey, I’ll take that as a compliment from her. I doubt she hands them out often. She licks her lips then, and somehow her strait-laced, ultra-professional act softens. Her mouth even slightly curves. Like this, she’s pretty, not that I’m interested.

“Listen, why don’t we meet for a drink later tonight?” She shocks me with the question, and I grit my teeth to keep my jaw from dropping. Her voice morphs as well, from the highly controlled professional one I’ve heard enough of from her, to just above a purr. “I’d love to get to know you better. I like…understanding…all my players so I can best figure out how to leverage good PR for the team.”

Uh… Is this a proposition? My mind jumps right there. She gives me the speech about propriety and families first one day, then turns around the next and asks me to meet for a drink tonight? Why not in the team office tomorrow? Why not where other players and staff are around so it doesn’t look like a date? This doesn’t sit well with me.

“Sorry. I plan to spend the night unpacking. How about next week? We can schedule a time to chat at the office.”

“Sure.” Her face snaps back into bitch mode. “Well, I have to go. I’ll be in touch.”

After she clicks off, I stare at my phone in disbelief. Was this another test of hers, devised to snare me into proving whether or not I can’t resist any woman? Did I pass?

Starting over with a new team sucks. I close my laptop cover, glad for all of that to be over. With nothing but time on my hands, I glance around, lost a little among the sea of boxes. There are plenty of things I could do with my week off. No game, no practice. I happened to get traded to Oregon in time for their bye week. Five days to relax and let my body heal from the season of game play so far.

I know myself. I’ll get bored before this night ends, stuck here all alone. Brad, my agent, told me I need more hobbies and he could be right.

After pushing through and unloading several boxes, I get another phone call. It’s from the coach. I perch on the edge of my couch to take it, but get an inconvenient cramp in my leg.

“Hello?” I bite my cheeks to keep from grunting into the phone due to the pain.

“Kringer? Coach Nicholson here. Are you busy tonight?”

Hobbling around the living room, working out the cramp, I try to keep my voice even. “Nope. Just resting up so I can hit the ice hard next week, sir.” That’s the correct thing to say. Gotta make a good impression on the man who holds my time on the ice in his hands.

“Great. One of your teammates got sick and can’t make a fundraiser tonight. So, I’m going to need you to be there.”

“Sure thing. Where and what is it?” I bend over and massage my calf.

“I’ll send you the hotel address. You’ll need to wear a suit and look sharp. Bring your jersey, too. I assume you got the package left for you at your apartment?”

“Yep. Got it.” My eyes shoot over to the box on the dining table that was delivered earlier today. When I opened it, I found every souvenir marked with the team name ever made, including some jerseys with my name on the back and good old number ten on the front. I’ve been a ten since—forever, born from the womb perfect. I laugh inside at my joke.

“Great. It starts at seven. So get ready and don’t be late. Kerry and your agent went over our rules of public engagement with you, correct?”

“They did, coach.” I have to hand it to the Portland team management for either having their crap together or for being a little controlling. It’s way too early yet to decide if I’m going to like it here.

“I’m sure you’ll represent us well and I have nothing to worry about. I don’t want to hear any different. I’ll see you at practice?—”

“Uh, Coach, you didn’t say what this fundraiser is.” The line went quiet. “Coach?”

He must have hung up before I could catch him. His text comes in a minuter later with the hotel address and particulars of the event.

“The Fifth Annual Valentine Heart Association Bachelor Auction.” I read the details. “Bachelor auction? Uh… What the fuck did I just get roped into?”

This has to be a joke. Is it funny that they scold me for being a playboy, want me to change my ways, then volunteer me for this bachelor auction? Because I’m not laughing. I text him back.

Kris: Coach, are you serious or is this some kind of prank you play on the new guy?

Nicholson: No prank, but since you’re new here and I need someone to fill in, call it initiation.

Nicholson: One more thing. Whoever wins you at the auction, it’s dinner only. No fucking allowed. Be a gentleman.

With that warning, I shake it off. At least it’s something to do tonight to keep me busy. While I shower and get ready, trying to find my least wrinkled suit from the moving boxes, I keep the sports channel on the TV. A commercial comes on for skiing up at Mt. Hood. The powder looks great, and Portland has had an abundance of snow this season. I know what I can do to pass the time and have a little fun before I report for practice next week.

An hour later, I arrive at the hotel and I’m greeted by a staff member. They usher me to a room where a handful of other guys stand around eating from a table filled with sandwiches and salads and cookies.

“Hey,” I say and play it cool, nodding to the other guys.

“Join us. At least there’s food, while we wait to be sold off like meat,” says one wearing a soccer jersey over his white button down and suit pants.

“Shots of whiskey would have been better,” another man says, laughing, an older fellow with salt and pepper shadow across his jaw and upper lip. He holds out his hand to me to shake. “Hey man, I’m Daniel Dade, CEO of Dade Construction. They came in a few minutes ago and said Kris Kringer would be here to replace the other guy. I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you. Long-time Denver fan here, and I still can’t believe those assholes traded you away.”

“It’s part of playing sports professionally. But good to meet a fan.” First interaction with a fan in my new city, and it’s a good feeling. I’ve been through a few trades in my career, although I thought Denver was it for me. Home. But one lousy season and here I am starting over again. “Hopefully you’ll keep being a fan as the season plays out.”

“Depends how you play.” He laughs, reminding me fans are just as fickle as coaches,and in the next breath, here it comes. “Can I get you to sign something? Uh, here. This napkin.” A minute later, scouring the room, he comes up with a pen and I sign.

As we wait, I find out there are five bachelors, including me and Daniel, a soccer player, a banker, and a recently divorced university football coach who thinks he could actually find love here.

Not me. This isn’t about love. But hey, I’ll wine and dine whoever wins me in the auction. I hide a smirk against all the warnings about messing around and living up to my Heartbreaker name while in Portland, yet here I am at a bachelor auction. Sounds to me like I could get into plenty of trouble with whoever wins me. But I’ll be a perfect gentleman instead. Besides, you never know, what if I do meet someone special?

I can stop myself right there from carrying out that thought. I tried love once with Tia and it sucked. She ripped my heart right out and it hasn’t been the same since.

Why would I do that to myself again?

There’s one thing I’m great at. Hockey. I’ll leave love to the rest of the chumps out there. After all, I earned the nickname Hockey Heartbreaker in L.A. Might as well keep living up to it.