Chapter 2

Austin

Carmella's is packed.

It seems like everyone who's anyone in San Antonio is here.

We walk past the huge line and the bouncer lets us in—perks of being a Hyena.

There are beautiful women everywhere.

They're not like the girls from back home.

I make eye contact with a girl in a small black dress. She looks airbrushed. Her tits are impossibly high and hard, and her face looks like it took all afternoon to be painted on. She's wearing these crazy high heels and every strand of her hair is perfectly in place.

You'd never see a girl like that walking down the streets in the small town I came from. People in Michigan would think she was an alien.

I can't even imagine what my family would think if I brought a girl like that back home for Christmas dinner.

She gives me a blank stare as I walk with the boys to the VIP section.

"This place is crazy," Nolan says as he puts both hands on my shoulders as we walk in. "It's good to be a star!"

"Yeah," I say with a grin.

It is good to be a star. Everywhere we go, we're treated like royalty. We drink ten thousand dollar bottles of champagne and beautiful women flock to us like we're gods.

We hang out with professional athletes and celebrities, it's awesome.

Although, if I'm being honest with myself, it's not that great.

It's costing me a fortune. Sometimes those bills come and they're in the six figures. I'm a rookie and I'm not making as much as some of these other guys. Nolan just signed a three-year contract for twenty-four million dollars. Many of the people in here are making tens of millions of dollars a year.

I got stuck with a bill the other night that was one hundred and thirty-two thousand dollars. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw it. I think that's how much my parents paid for their house. My dad would have walloped me if he knew what I was spending on one night that wasn't even that much fun.

I don't like the music they play in places like this. I like guitars and raspy voices, not alien instruments that are playing off-key. And it's so loud, you can barely hear anyone talk.

And the women… They're beautiful, but it seems like they're only around to drink our champagne and take pictures with us to put on their Instagram pages. I tried to talk to some of them, but they all kept asking me to take them shopping.

I've been more homesick than I thought I'd be. I miss the pub in my little town with the local bands playing and the dance floor where people actually dance and don't care who's watching. I miss my family and I miss the mountains. I miss the fall leaves and the snow. The feeling of skating on a frozen pond.

It's always so hot here. This scorching desert air is brutal.

We move to the back of the VIP section and it's full of basketball players, women, a couple of players from the football team, and more women.

Nolan orders a bottle of the most expensive champagne they have and I feel my throat tighten a little.

"I just bought a house," he tells me as the waitress leaves.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'll have a big party when it's ready. I'm putting an ice rink in the basement."

"Cool!"

"You thinking of buying a place?"

I've thought about it. My contract is for three years, so I'll be in San Antonio for at least that long. I have to park my money in something and start building equity or it's just going to disappear on nights like this. If something doesn't change, I might not have anything to show for myself at the end of my career. That happens to a lot of guys.

"Yeah, I should start looking."

The ten thousand dollar bottle of champagne arrives and Nolan pours out some glasses. He's making eight million a year, so he can afford it.

"Cheers to another win!" Nolan says as he holds up his glass. We all clink glasses and holler.

Ugh. It doesn't even taste good. It's way too bubbly.

I look around for Harris, but I know he's not going to be here. He never comes out with the team. In his early days, he was always practicing, but now he's probably with his family.

It hits me that I should be taking his lead. I should be doing what he did, practicing instead of partying.

My dad's words come back to me.

Don't forget where you came from. Stay focused.

I sigh as I take another sip of champagne and head to the bathroom. What am I even doing here? I have to be smarter.

I have to invest my money, practice non-stop, focus on the game.

I want to make my parents and friends proud. These people don't care about me. If I got cut from the team, they wouldn't even call me back.

I'm going over it all and am so distracted that I bump into that girl with the black dress.

"Oh, sorry!" I say. I accidentally spilled a drop of champagne on her.

She stares up at me under her long fake eyelashes. "This is a twenty thousand dollar dress. You ruined it."

"There's two drops on it," I say, laughing uncomfortably because I'm not sure if she's joking or not. "I'm sure it will be fine when it dries in thirty seconds."

She crosses her arms and glares at me. "You have to replace it."

My face drops. "You're serious?"

"Yes."

"If you think I'm giving you twenty grand, you're insane."

"Fine. Sixteen thousand."

I laugh. This chick is trying to extort me.

I guess I had it coming, hanging out in a play like this. It's full of money-hungry vultures and show-offs.

This is not being focused. This is not remembering where I came from.

"Here," I say as I hand her my glass of champagne.

"What's this?" she asks as she takes it.

"That glass is worth about twelve hundred dollars," I say as I back away. "We're even. Just don't be around when the bill comes."

I leave before she can say another word.

I'm full of energy as I leave this stupid club. I'm no longer going to fall for these small vices. I want to be great. I want to be something in this league. I want to be remembered.

And I'm not going to get there by wasting my time with those people in there.

I hop in a taxi and tell the driver to take me to the Hyenas training facility. Maybe if I had put in some extra time, I would have made that shot tonight. Maybe I wouldn't have had to pass the shot off to Harris.

That's not going to happen again. I vow it to myself.

I text Nolan that I had to leave and then like fate is steering me on, I find a business card between the seats.

Norah Ellison Reality.

Let me help you find your dream home.

Her face is covered by the huge blue moustache and bushy eyebrows someone scratched on with a pen.

This can't be a coincidence. Right?

I'm going to call her first thing tomorrow morning.

I arrive at the training facility and suit up in the locker room. This place is amazing and it's open 24/7 to the players. We have a sauna, the best gym I've ever seen, and three skating rinks. I strap up my skates and head to the main one.

Harris is already out there practicing his slap shot.

"Shit," I whisper, backing away. What's he doing here? It's after midnight.

"Gambill," he calls out when he spots me. "Come on over."

I take a deep breath and skate over.

"I thought you were out with the boys," he says as he lines up some pucks.

"I was," I tell him. "But missing that shot was eating at me."

He smiles and nods like he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

This is the kind of dedication I'm missing. The kind of focus I need. This man has had an amazing career and probably only has a few dozen games before he retires and he's still out here past midnight working on his craft.

I'll never slack off again.

"Let's see what you got."

He glides out of the way, leaving me the row of pucks.

I skate up to them, take a deep breath, and let them rip one at a time.

I sink three, miss two, and hit the bar on the last one.

"You're in your head too much," he says as he watches me. "I see it in your eyes."

"See what?"

"You're overwhelmed by it all. The crowd noise, the pressure, the lights, the fame, the media, the partying. It's taking away your edge."

"It has been a lot."

He sighs in understanding. "I've been there, kid. Being the first draft pick. It weighs on you."

It does. I've felt the pressure like a weight on my chest since I signed the contract.

"How do I get past it?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes," I say desperately. "I really do."

I just wait and watch as he lines up seven more pucks. He nails them, sinking each one into a different corner like clockwork.

"Get yourself a girl," he says as he looks up at me with a grin. "Not a girl of the week. The girl. The one. Then, nothing else will matter. Not the lights or the crowd or the noise. Coming home to her will be the only thing that matters and everything else will just kind of fade away."

I sigh as he skates over to collect the pucks.

That's great advice and all, but where the hell is this magical girl?

It's not like she's just going to drop into my lap.

I sigh as I skate over to collect the pucks, feeling more hopeless than ever.