Delay of Game

by Tracey Richardson

  Lynn’s quizzical expression softened to one of understanding. “Sure thing. I’ll bet it’s hard being away from home sometimes. How about Jimmy’s down the street?”

  Jimmy’s was a roadhouse well known for its chargrilled burgers and steaks and microbrewery beer. It brewed its own beer in giant copper vats along one side of the restaurant. Niki had only eaten there a couple of times, but because of its proximity to the University of Calgary campus, the place was a beehive of activity and always loud with boisterous conversation. Students, professors and athletes all frequented Jimmy’s and treated it like a second home. A game of darts or billiards was always on the go.

  “Want to talk about it?” Lynn offered as their beer and burgers were deposited in front of them.

  “Not really.” Niki smiled to lighten her tone. She’d spent a lot of time with Lynn lately, but it didn’t mean she wanted to bare her soul to her. She liked to keep her own counsel.

  “Well, would you look who’s here,” Lynn whispered urgently, jerking a thumb toward the bar area.

  Niki glanced sideways, trying not to appear too obvious. She quickly gave up the pretense and stared. It was Eva, sitting at the bar shoulder to shoulder with another woman—the medical trainer for Team USA, if she wasn’t mistaken. The two were laughing and chatting like intimate friends, each sipping on a glass of beer. A moment later, the trainer’s hand crept to Eva’s thigh and gave it a lengthy squeeze. So that’s how it is.

  “Huh,” Lynn said. “I didn’t know those two were a having a thing.”

  Jealousy caught like a flame to dry tinder in Niki’s gut. She’d never forgotten the feel of Eva’s strong thighs beneath her own fingers or the feel of her thick, wavy hair against her cheek during the times she leaned close to whisper something in her ear. Exactly like this woman was doing. Jesus, Niki thought, pissed off at herself. She couldn’t begin to understand the reasons why it was so difficult to ignore Eva Caruso and the feelings she ignited in her. Why the hell, after all this time, couldn’t she forget about the crazy love they’d shared, the heart-stopping passion, the insane lovemaking, the fierce arguing that sometimes burned them both up in a conflagration of hurt feelings and indignation? It was pleasure and pain, bitter and sweet, and even now it was so intense as to almost be unbearable. Back then they were young colts bucking at the gate, and now as she watched Eva share a lusty kiss with Kathleen, she wondered if little had changed with Eva. Was she still the irrepressible, irresponsible young stud she’d once been?

  “They’re both adults,” Niki said with strained indifference. “They can do what they want.”

  Lynn shook her head in condemnation, like Eva had done something as heinous as gotten behind the wheel of a car while drunk. “Same old Eva. Can’t keep it in her pants. And can’t ever seem to grow up.”

  The venom in Lynn’s voice surprised Niki a little. “Are you trying to make me hate her? Because there’s really no need.”

  Lynn smiled. “Good. I was worried you might be letting bygones be bygones with her.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means she treated you like crap. She hurt you, Nik.”

  “I’m a big girl. It was a long time ago, and I was as much of a jerk as she was when it came to our relationship.”

  “Well, at least you stopped being a jerk and grew up.” Lynn flicked another glance at Eva and Kathleen, snuggling together as though there was no one else in the room. “Doesn’t look like she’s learned a thing.”

  Niki had heard a lot of rumors about Eva over the years, mostly having to do with a long string of girlfriends. She waited until Lynn’s gaze swung back to her. “Does it matter? To us and what we’re trying to accomplish, I mean.”

  “It does, at least until the Games are over. Then I could give a shit about her.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been going to Alison Hiller’s school of hating your opponent. Because if we need that to motivate us to win, we’re in trouble.” Alison had been a thorn to Niki and Eva all those years ago, ultimately leading to the nuclear explosion that was their breakup. And while Alison had really only been the match and not the gasoline, Niki swore she would never treat her charges like they were pawns to be used in a sport that was equated to war. Her players were people first, second and third. And she had no right to try to manipulate their feelings toward anyone. Hate was a weak motivational tool anyway.

  Lynn’s face colored a little. “The stakes are high, Nik. That’s all I’m saying. This isn’t some little game of shinny in somebody’s backyard rink. Alison will be looking for every edge she can get, and frankly, so should we.”

  Niki didn’t care for the direction their conversation was taking and began to gather up her things, what was left of her food having turned cold. “Well, we’re not her. We’re going to run this team like a machine. A machine without emotion, because that’s how you win games. We’re going to be better than them at every little thing, even the smallest things, because the minute you let emotion overrule your behavior, you’ll lose. We’re surgeons, Lynn, and the hockey rink is our operating theater.”

  Lynn stood to go too, but Niki waved her back down. “Stay and finish your dinner. I’m sorry, but I think I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll see you at the rink tomorrow afternoon.”

  She counted out forty dollars to cover her share and purposely chose a route farthest away from the bar area. As she was closing the distance to the door, Eva turned from across the room and pinned her with those haunting, dark eyes. The moment was over before Niki knew it, but there was something in Eva’s look that said she was sorry. About all the things she’d never actually apologized for, Niki imagined. But she propelled herself forward, not wanting to expend any more emotional energy on Eva. As she opened the door, Alison Hiller barged in.

  “Excuse me,” Niki said.

  “Well, well. Plotting strategy for the big game tomorrow night, Coach?” Alison’s eyes gleamed with undisguised malice.

  Niki smiled. “Nope. No need for last-minute cramming. See you at the rink tomorrow night, Coach.”

  * * *

  Eva adjusted her hoodie, trying to cover the untamed mass of hair that she hadn’t felt like dealing with this morning. She slid on sunglasses too to avoid being recognized on the outdoor ice rink at the edge of campus. Normally she didn’t mind the attention from hockey fans. Posing for selfies and signing autographs came with the territory of being one of the most recognized women hockey players in the world. But it was game day and she wanted to be left alone to not, as most people might suspect, concentrate on tonight’s game, but rather to empty her mind. A leisurely skate, feeling the ice beneath her blades and the cool breeze against her face, was all she wanted.

  She stepped onto the ice, gliding slowly at first to test its consistency. It was a bit soft, which wasn’t unusual for outdoor rinks in late October. There would be pipes underneath to help keep it frozen, but whenever the air temperature was above freezing, as it was today, it was a nearly impossible task to keep the ice as solid as cement. She’d be careful to avoid grooves made by other blades; she didn’t need to tweak anything. Tonight’s exhibition game against Team Canada would undoubtedly be trench warfare, as it always was.

  She skated counter-clockwise around the rink, pleased that there were only two other people, a guy and a girl, college students by the looks of them, skating hand-in-hand at the other end. Plenty of space without the worry of somebody cutting in front of her or crashing into her. No drills, no coach barking at her, no teammates whizzing around her, nobody expecting anything of her. It was refreshing to have no stick, no protective equipment encumbering her.

  Skating, it occurred to Eva, was the one constant in her life that made her feel free. Alive. Happy. It was like being the pilot of her own plane in a big, wide open sky, her contrails the scratches her blades left behind on the ice. She could go as fast or as slow as she wanted. She could deke, twist, turn, reverse, spin. Anything she wanted. Especially without a stick
and a puck, which, she didn’t mind admitting, too often turned her into a demon. When she played hockey, she wanted to win, wanted to pummel the other team, wanted to be the best. When she skated as she did now, she could relax and breathe, dissolve into anonymity.

  The couple at the other end were talking to someone, their voices chirpy and amplified enough to insert speed bumps into Eva’s random, floating thoughts. She shot them a look more of irritation than curiosity, tightened her hoodie around her face, kept her distance from the three skaters—a woman in jeans, hockey skates and a hoodie nearly identical to Eva’s had joined the couple. Eva skirted around them, did a double take before stopping hard enough and fast enough to send a jet of icy mist into the air.

  “Niki?”

  Blue eyes widened, narrowed again. A slight nod that was barely polite.

  “What are you doing here?” Eva knew she should have continued skating past Niki, but it was too late now. She’d opened her big mouth.

  “Skating. Same as you.”

  The young couple took the hint and wobbled away on their ill-fitting skates, wishing Niki a final good luck for Team Canada tonight. They hadn’t recognized Eva as one of the enemy.

  “Skate with me?” Eva asked before she had time to think about her offer. Being around Niki unleashed a spasm of feelings in her, most of them confusing, some of them diametrically opposed to one another and all of them aggravating. Yet ignoring Niki did not feel like the thing to do either. After all, they couldn’t avoid each other forever and would, in fact, be seeing a lot of each other the next three months. There was so much history between them. So many things left unsaid. And so many things said that had left scars. Perhaps it was finally time to talk, to somehow find a way to make sense of their hostile parting all those years ago. If she were to end her hockey career once and for all after this season—and she was pretty sure she would—closure with Niki felt like a necessary part of the process.

  Niki turned and slowly skated away, but Eva wasn’t ready to let her go. I should let her go but I can’t, dammit. In three strides she was at her side.

  “Is it because of the game tonight?” Eva asked.

  “What?”

  “The reason you’re giving me that I’d-rather-you-were-dead look.”

  Niki’s lips quivered like they were about to erupt in a smile. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Hmm. So it’s not your game face?”

  “I’m not Alison. You know that.”

  “Ah, then you hate me all the time, not just on game days.” Eva wasn’t entirely kidding.

  Niki slowed her speed. She was graceful, had always been a natural and effortless skater. She was one of those people who never truly understood how good she was. She was the antithesis of the athlete who thought they were greater than they actually were, who harbored a tricked-out, buffed-up vision of themselves that held little truth. Niki could have been the best woman hockey player in the world, perhaps of all time, if only she’d wanted it bad enough. But she’d never quite wanted it the way Eva had.

  Niki sighed impatiently. “I don’t hate you, Eva.”

  “Then shouldn’t we try to be friends?”

  Niki stopped skating, faced Eva. The ropey muscles of her jaw were visible. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’re forgetting our teams will most likely be playing each other for the biggest prize in hockey in little more than three months. What, you think we should go out for a drink? Or a bite after the game tonight? Really?”

  Niki’s tone was a scalpel slicing neat, sharp slits in Eva’s heart.

  “You said yourself you’re not Alison.”

  “No. I’m not. But I’m not your buddy. Or your girlfriend. You seem to have that base covered anyway, by the looks of things in that restaurant last night.”

  Ah, so the surliness was due in part, at least, to Kathleen. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Forget it. You don’t have to explain.”

  No, Eva thought, she didn’t. But she wanted to. “She’s just, you know, a friend. With benefits.”

  A neat blond eyebrow rose. “So not much has changed with you, eh?”

  It was meant to be a hurtful, judgmental reminder that Eva had never settled down with anyone the way Niki had. “What do you care?”

  “I don’t.”

  Maybe not, but Niki was looking at her like she was judge and jury and Eva the hardened criminal who was guilty of something horrible.

  Fine, think what you want. Eva decided that Niki had become very much like Alison. She turned and skated away, her legs pumping as hard as they could. She skated straight to where she’d left her boots and duffel bag. Screw this. And screw you, Niki Hartling.

  Chapter Seven

  Intent to Injure

  Niki took her place behind the bench, ramrod straight as she faced the flags while the two national anthems played over the speakers. Afterward, she wanted to pace, but the space was too narrow. What she really wanted to do was to throw something, and her gaze flicked to the water bottles positioned in front of her players like little plastic soldiers. She couldn’t shake her disappointment with herself for how she’d behaved earlier with Eva, for revealing her anger, her hurt. What did it matter that Eva continued to flit from woman to woman, like a bee sampling the nectar of every flower? No. It absolutely didn’t matter. Eva could do whatever the hell she wanted with whomever the hell she wanted. Niki didn’t give a rat’s ass on whose pillow Eva rested her head at night. And yet her stomach was on fire.

  Furtively, she thumbed a Tums from the roll in her pocket and slipped it into her mouth. Skating this morning was supposed to make her forget how the sight of Eva at the restaurant had made her heart beat like a bass drum in her chest. To run into her at the outdoor rink was the cruelest of tests and one that she’d failed miserably. Goddamn you, Eva.

  The referee blew her whistle to signify the game was about to begin. Technically, the game was meaningless, but it would give both teams an opportunity to test their game plans, to pit their top players against each other, to gauge firsthand how much of a threat the other was going to be. Niki had told her players to go hard, but not full out. No need to show Team USA everything we’ve got, she told them. Holding something in reserve would give them the element of surprise later on. For that reason, she scratched her best forward. It had been Lynn’s idea, and it was a good one.

  “D to D, D to D!” Niki yelled at her two defensemen on the ice, seconds after one of them fumbled with the puck in the neutral zone for too long and coughed it up. She slapped Alycia on the shoulder, her youngest center. “Your line’s next, kiddo. Pressure them deep. Don’t let them break out, okay?”

  She was pleased with her players’ hard, accurate passes, which were confounding the speedy Americans. But they needed to consistently play good positional hockey and to show no hesitation or the Americans would pick off those passes. She made a mental note to herself to remind her players to make faster decisions.

  Alycia’s line took a shot on goal. The American goalie deflected the puck neatly into the corner, where Eva slickly scooped it up and marched it down the ice. Niki’s eyes followed her, watched as she deked around one Canadian forward, then another. Eva wasn’t the fastest skater on the ice anymore, not by a long shot, but she had hands of gold and razor-sharp instincts that hadn’t lost a beat. A third Canadian defender fell victim to Eva’s clever puck handling. Christ, Niki thought, an end-to-end rush in which nobody was touching her. She snapped a glance at Lynn and the map of frown lines on her face, returning her gaze to the ice in time to see Eva score top shelf.

  “All right,” Niki said firmly to her players on the bench. “It’s okay. Our team is not one player like those guys. We’ll win it together. Now come on, let’s go! We play as a team!”

  After two periods the game stood knotted at a goal apiece. In the locker room at intermission, Niki spoke in general terms. She told her team that while the American
s were coming on stronger with each period, they could be stopped “if we stick to our game plan. They’re young but we’re smart. Remember that.” What she didn’t share was her concern that they weren’t likely to match the Americans’ energy level for three periods. She’d need to work them harder in their fitness training, because as it stood now, a fast start was the only way they could hope to win.

  “If they’re so young, how come it’s their old grandma who’s killing us?” grumbled the goalie.

  Niki suppressed a smile. Eva would hate being called grandma. “We can take away their speed by jamming up the neutral zone. That means a one-two-and-two defense. Forecheck and backcheck the hell out of them so they run out of room out there. Squeeze them, okay? Force them to make a crappy pass.”

  The third period was evenly back and forth, both teams getting their chances. Then Eva broke out of a neutral zone scrum with the puck and went in on a two-on-one. Because she’d already scored once, the lone Canadian defenseman and goalie both expected Eva to again shoot the puck. She didn’t. Her tape-to-tape pass at the last second ended up off her teammate’s stick and into the back of the net.

  “Shit!” Lynn erupted from the other end of the bench. A deep flush worked its way up her neck and into her face like a fast-flowing river. Lynn’s primary job on the bench was to coach the defensive side of things, and she huddled with the two players closest to her.

  When the play resumed, it became clear the remainder of the game would be a chippy affair, Eva’s goal having fired up Team Canada. Ideally, Niki wanted her players to keep their emotions in check and play a methodical game. What she saw instead caused her to smack her clipboard against her thigh in frustration. Her players were charging into their opponents, getting their sticks up, flirting with penalties, trash talking. All the things she didn’t want them doing. She was seconds away from calling a timeout when her biggest defenseman took a run at Eva, crushing her into the boards. The referee’s whistle pierced the air, but it did little good, as players from both sides crowded around, bumping one another chest to chest and talking more trash. By the time everyone dispersed to their benches, Eva lay in a crumpled heap.