High Risk Rookie

by Odette Stone

  When we arrived at our destination, she led me up to her modern, sleek office and ushered me into a boardroom. “Wait here. Your food’s coming.”

  Less than ten minutes later, she reappeared with a plastic bag. She set it in front of me. To my surprise, she sat down across from me.

  “Eat. Then we need to go shopping.”

  My stomach rumbled as I discovered a huge foot-long sub, a plastic carton of green salad, two bananas, and a smoothie.

  I looked up at her in surprise. “Are you serious?”

  For the first time since we got off the plane, she wasn’t on her phone. “I’ve fed a lot of hockey players in my time.”

  “Thank you.”

  She ignored my gratitude. “Please tell me you have a suit.”

  “Not here.” I almost moaned as I sank my teeth into the sub. It was fantastic.

  “I’ve called in a favor. After you’re done eating, we’re going to get you some real clothes. Then we’ll meet Mark.”

  I didn’t have enough money to buy a lot of new clothes. “My clothes are fine.”

  “Mark will be assessing you. You need to show up looking professional.”

  “What else?”

  “Mark is all about the old-fashioned values. Honesty, integrity, loyalty. He’ll want to know that you’re hardworking. Be respectful, and don’t upset him.”

  In five minutes, she had already proven to be more knowledgeable than my other three agents put together. “How would I upset him?”

  “Because without effort or intention, you have an inherent ability to effectively piss people off.”

  “No, just you.”

  She ignored that. “He’ll want to see you skate, so you’ll probably get some ice time.”

  “I don’t have any gear here.”

  “He’ll take care of that.”

  I realized she must be hungry too. I pushed one of the bananas towards her. “What’s the most critical thing I need to know about Mark Ashford?”

  She picked up the banana but didn’t peel it. She just held it in her hands and thought about her answer. “Mark sees the party lifestyle as a weakness or sickness that could infect his team. But he’s the best owner and GM in the league. He understands hockey better than most of the coaches, and he makes a lot of money doing so.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the way she was talking and holding that damn banana. It was so stupid, but my dick was insta-hard. “Got it.”

  “But don’t try to fake who you are. Never lie to him. If he knows some dirt on you, you don’t lie. You tell the truth, but not the whole truth. That is how you deal with Mark Ashford.”

  Oh god, she was now peeling the banana. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off this show. “That’s good advice.”

  “He can be a little authoritative at times, and he’ll throw his weight around a bit, but mostly to see how you’ll react.” She opened her red pouty lips as she brought the banana up to take a bite.

  “Oh yeah,” I murmured in encouragement.

  She paused and frowned. “You okay?”

  My eyes were glued to the banana hovering in front of her cherry-red lips. “Don’t come across as a party guy, and tell the truth without too much detail. When he gets a bit bossy, don’t react.”

  She smiled. “Exactly.”

  I envisioned that smile next to my cock right before she—

  Some man opened the boardroom door and looked between the two of us. “Krista, I’ve got a client on the phone. Do you have time to talk?”

  Krista stood and picked up her phone. “Yes. Send the call to my office.”

  She turned and thrust the half-peeled, unbitten banana towards me. “You can have this one.”

  She picked up the completely peeled banana and walked towards the door. She paused. “Give me ten minutes, and then we’ll go.”

  Without waiting for me to respond, she disappeared. My dick was hard, and I was left alone, with the banana that she had unpeeled in my hand.

  Krista brought me to a store where a tailor promised he could alter a suit for me in time for dinner the next night. She also picked out three button-down shirts, a pair of new jeans, and some other basics. It would make a huge dent in my credit card limit, but she seemed to know what she was doing, so I didn’t bother arguing.

  Back in the car, she raised the privacy screen between us and the driver before she turned towards me.

  “I’ve talked to a divorce lawyer.”

  I winced. “Okay.”

  “You should get your own lawyer.”

  I looked over at her. I didn’t have money for my own lawyer. “Can’t yours just whip up some papers, and we split the cost?”

  She gave me a careful look. “I need you to find your own lawyer.”

  “Fine.” This would be nothing more than a legal formality. “In the meantime, can we just use yours?”

  “The process could take up to six months. My divorce lawyer is also going to write up our two-million-dollar agreement around keeping quiet about this.”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t even want to think about it. I felt responsible for the mess we were in, and I would do anything to make it go away. “Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do my part.”

  “Thank you.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments. I looked over at her. She was silent, her phone resting in her lap as she stared out the window.

  “What?” She spoke without looking at me.

  “Are you okay?”

  She shot me a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m concerned about how you’re doing, and I’m checking in.”

  “Completely unnecessary.”

  “We’re in this mess because of me.”

  She looked back out the window. “I’m not your responsibility.”

  The higher she built her walls, the more I wanted to climb them. “Anything I can do?”

  She gave me another pointed look. “You can make it onto this team.”

  If I didn’t make it onto this team, my dreams of being a professional hockey player would be dead. I didn’t want to think about what was at stake. This time it was my turn to look out the window, effectively ending our talk.

  We walked into the huge front entrance of the arena. Without giving me a chance to look around, Krista led me to the security desk. The air was cool, and I could faintly smell buttered popcorn and stale beer. It smelled like home.

  “They’re expecting you, Miss Taylor,” the security guy said.

  “Thank you.” She motioned for me to follow her down the large corridor before we made our way up to the executive offices.

  A man tall in stature, with dark hair that was graying at the temples, stood waiting for us.

  “Hello, Mark,” Krista said.

  He smiled at Krista, ignoring me. “Krista! How are you?”

  “I come bearing gifts.” She turned towards me. “Mark, I’d like to introduce you to Levi Ziegler.”

  His eyes moved to mine, and then we simultaneously reached forward to shake hands.

  He spoke first. “Hello, Levi. Welcome to Vancouver.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you for the invite.” The collar of my new shirt itched my neck, and I was already starting to feel hot and restless.

  “It’s our pleasure.” He motioned with an open hand. “Come in. Julie has ordered us some coffee.”

  He led us into a huge, luxurious office. On one side was a picture window on the world; on the other side was a glass view of the inner stadium. Unable to stop myself, I moved to the inner window. Only the slender skylights provided relief from the darkness, cascading thin white beams onto the rink. I could almost feel the vibration of my blades against the ice and the cool air rushing over my face.

  Mark appeared to my right. He stood with his hands in his pockets as he looked down. “She’s a beauty of a rink, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, sir.” I wished the lights were on so I could see it better.

 
“Want to see her with the lights on?” He looked serious about his offer.

  “Sure.”

  He stepped back and murmured for a moment into his cell before returning to stand beside me.

  One by one, the lights flickered on. I stood in awe as I looked over the majestic dome of red and blue seats. This stadium would make any gladiator proud. My eyes were drawn down to the benches and the ice itself. I suddenly had to resist the urge to run down there, to stand at ice level, to be part of all of this again. I worked at containing the longing and nerves that stirred inside me. I felt like a homesick lover about to be reunited with the one thing I had never gotten over.

  He looked over at me. “You know, I thought we’d have a tour and maybe some lunch before giving you some ice time, but I’m thinking your mind is only going to be in one place. Would you like to skate first?”

  I wanted to skate so bad, but I wasn’t sure how my skills would hold up. It had been ages since I had been on the ice. I held his gaze and quelled my inner fear. “It might help me focus better.”

  He smiled. “Go tell Julie you’re doing your skate first. She’ll introduce you to the equipment team. They will gear you up. Take as much time as you want on that ice.”

  I looked across the room. Krista sat on the couch, watching our exchange. Without speaking to her, I stepped out of the room and moved towards the front reception desk.

  “Levi, wait,” Krista said from behind me.

  I turned and watched how her heels made her hips sway as she moved.

  She stopped in front of me and looked up. “You okay?”

  I lied. “Yup.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

  I stared down at her, mesmerized by the faint freckles I could see on the edge of her nose. “Why do you think something is wrong?”

  “My gut is never wrong.”

  She reached towards my collar, but I caught her wrist in my hand. “I haven’t skated in eight months.”

  She didn’t try to pull herself free from my hold. “He wants to see if you still love hockey. Go have fun because, trust me, the rest of your interview is going to be way less enjoyable.”

  I studied her. She was a mixture of allure and honesty. “I still love hockey.”

  I dropped her hand, but she didn’t step back. “Then go have fun. Everything is going to be fine.”

  I shot out onto the ice, circling wide and hugging the boards. Different skates, different gear, but the same body. I picked up speed, testing the edge of my blade, the weight of my stick. The air felt cool on my lungs as I took in deeper breaths. God, this felt good.

  I continued to circle the ice, and when I was sufficiently warmed up, I tested my sprint speed, my edges, turns, skating backward. When I noticed that the equipment guys were watching from the sides, I slid to a stop in front of them, spraying ice high into the air.

  I felt as euphoric as a kid playing street hockey. But the game was meant to be played together. “You guys want to come and play?”

  They all grinned back, but the older one spoke. “Boss is watching. You want us to put out the nets and some stick-handling training equipment?”

  “I’d appreciate that. What’s your name?”

  “Jim.”

  I grinned at him. “Thanks, Jim.”

  One of the guys tossed me a puck, which I caught with my stick. I started to skate away, flipping it repeatedly to keep it in the air.

  “Where’d you say you were from, kid?” Jim asked me from the bench.

  “Born in Canada, but I mostly played in Germany.” I grinned over my shoulder. “Sure no one wants to go into the net?”

  It’s funny how my body remembered my solo practices. I had a routine that was ingrained in me. I started to work my way through my routine, which was designed to last exactly ninety minutes. If my time was greater than that, it meant my conditioning was off and I needed to work harder.

  Thirty minutes into my practice, I was aware that the equipment guys were still standing on the edge of the ice, watching. My body hadn’t worked these muscles for a while, but surfing had made my body stronger in different ways and had possibly improved my cardio. My stick was rusty but not as bad as I thought it would be. My shots on net felt a bit weak, but without a speed gun, I had no idea how slow I was.

  “Hey,” a voice yelled from the bench.

  I had the urge to ignore whoever was shouting at me, but I forced myself to stop and skate towards the growing group. Three suited-up players stood beside Jim.

  “Hi,” I said with a smile. “You guys here to play?”

  The tall one with dark hair didn’t smile back. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Jim pressed a phone to his ear and stepped away from us.

  I leaned on my stick, still breathing hard. “Levi. They flew me down for an interview this week.” I didn’t bother telling them that I was being interviewed as we spoke.

  “Bullshit,” the redheaded player said. “We’re the only three rookies going to training camp.”

  I told him the truth, knowing it would mollify them. “I haven’t been invited to training camp.”

  “How’d you get ice time?”

  I shrugged. “I’m just doing what they tell me.”

  “Who’s your agent?” the angry one demanded.

  “Krista Taylor.”

  The two players that had been talking, so far, exchanged looks, and then they both laughed. The guy in the back looked down, not wanting to be part of the joke.

  I instantly felt pissed and spoke directly to the shorter player. “You got something to say about that, Red?”

  “We call her the hot one.”

  I wanted to smash his face against the ice. “You think that’s appropriate?”

  Red smirked at me. “It’s appropriate because she’s a legend around these parts.”

  I didn’t like his innuendo, and I was about to get up in his face about it when the manager broke up our party. “There’s been a mix-up of times. We are going to let Levi finish his skate, and you guys can take the ice afterwards.”

  Angry guy complained. “Why does he take priority? There’s more of us.”

  I spread my arms wide. “Come on, big guy. You’re welcome to share my ice.”

  His nostrils flared. “You think this is a joke?”

  Red looked over at Jim. “Can we do that?”

  I skated away from the group towards the other side of the ice. Above the lights, I could see the dark of Mark’s office. I could see Krista’s curvy silhouette next to Ashford’s taller frame. I couldn’t see his face, but I was pretty sure he could see mine.

  I stared up at him, then looked over my shoulder at the guys and back up. I gave Ashford one nod before skating slowly back towards the group.

  Jim lowered his phone from his ear. “You can play together, two-on-two, full ice, open nets, but you need a referee.”

  “You got one?”

  Jim looked between the four of us. “Two of my guys will do their best to keep up with you clowns, so no hitting the ref, and look out for them. They have never done this before. Obey them.”

  We all nodded.

  Jim cleared his throat. “Keep it clean. Anyone caught playing dirty will be automatically cut from training camp.”

  I looked at the other three players. “Who wants to skate with me?”

  The silent one from the back skated forward. “My name’s Rio. I’ll skate with you.”

  I bumped gloves with him. “Levi.”

  He pointed at the other two. “The tall one is Brody, and that’s Chris.”

  Brody flipped up a puck and expertly kept it in the air without looking at it. He circled around me and then, without speaking, skated away.

  Rio and I skated side by side, circling the ice together.

  “What’s his problem?” I asked.

  Rio grinned at me. “The top dog has to bark.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Regina, Saskatchewan, but I played farm
for Chicago last year. They passed on signing me, and my agent called in a favor to get me here. How about you?”

  I didn’t know how much to say. “Trying to move from Europe. Haven’t had much luck.”

  “Maybe this is your shot at something.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He nodded. “Watch out for Brody’s left hook. It’s nearly undetectable, but it’s mean. And when he’s charging the net, he has this really unexpected zigzag that no one can keep up with. Give yourself room to react.”

  “Thanks.”

  He looked up into the seats. “You think anyone important is watching?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked startled. “Really? Who?”

  The whistle blew, signaling it was time to start. I looked back at Rio. “Name starts with Mark and ends with Ashford.”

  Chapter Five

  Krista

  A few minutes earlier

  I stared down on the ice at Levi, who was in conversation with the other three players. I couldn’t tell if they were having a friendly conversation or not. The whole thing gave me an uneasy feeling.

  Beside me, Mark was on the phone with Jim, the head of equipment services.

  Mark looked at me. “They all want to play together. What do you think?”

  My gut told me it was a bad idea. I continued to watch the guys below. No one except Levi had broken a smile. “Who are those guys?”

  “The other three are the rookies who have been invited to this year’s training camp.”

  It was highly unusual for rookies to have access to the main ice. This situation felt orchestrated. “Give Levi his own time on ice.”

  “Jim says he’s been asking for someone to play with since he got down there.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  Mark didn’t argue with me. He spoke into the phone. “Levi finishes his skate first.”

  Then he hung up and stood there with his hands in his pocket. “You don’t think he’s ready?”

  “I don’t think it’s fair to expect him to be ready.”

  We watched as Levi moved away from the group. He skated across the rink until he stood below the window of Mark’s office and stared up at us.