Delay of Game

by Tracey Richardson

  The laughing and whooping of a group of players, all veterans, jolted Niki from her exhaustion.

  “What’s up?” she said, wandering over to their circle.

  “Look!” Britney laughed, pointing at a hotel luggage trolley stacked with Team USA hockey bags.

  Niki slammed her eyes shut. Could this evening get any worse? Now the Americans were staying here too? At the same time? What were the odds of that? She took a step closer to peek at a nametag on a piece of luggage. Yup, it was them all right.

  “Did you know Team USA was going to be here?” she whispered to Lynn.

  “I’d heard something about it.” Her shrug was one of indifference. “Didn’t you know?”

  Niki seethed inside. “No, I didn’t. So much for getting some R and R and some team bonding time.”

  It was supposed to be a fun week, a relaxing week before heading down the highway to Squamish for a couple of weeks of intense practices and workouts. Niki had been looking forward to Whistler—acclimating to the mountain air, shopping, sightseeing, snowshoeing with the team. It was to be the final breather before the hype and pressure of the Games ramped up, because one thing she knew from experience, it wouldn’t be long before all of them would be able to do nothing but think about the Games. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? I probably could have had us relocated to another hotel.” It would be impossible now; Whistler was typically booked solid months ahead.

  “It’s not that big of a deal. Is it?”

  “Yes. It is a big deal. I don’t want us seeing the Americans or thinking about them right now. There’ll be plenty of time later for them to fill our heads.” She shouldn’t have to spell it out for Lynn, and the fact that she did was one more example of how they weren’t clicking much lately. When she took this job, she thought she and Lynn were on the same page. Now she wasn’t even sure they were reading the same book.

  “Sorry, boss,” Lynn said flatly.

  Niki studied her long-time friend. She looked tired, nerves strung a little tight, probably much the way Niki felt. The last few months had been exhausting—the twelve-hour days, the travel, the grind of practices and video analyses, the strategy sessions, the media interviews. With less than six weeks to go, it was time for a reboot between she and Lynn. Time to get back on that same page. And as head coach, she knew it was her job to get through to Lynn, to take the initiative in patching up their differences.

  Towing her suitcase behind her, Niki followed Lynn up to the fourth floor and to her room, which was next to Lynn’s. She closed the door and collapsed on the king bed for a moment, relishing the quiet. Her ears still rang from the loud bantering and singing on the bus—the players had sung songs Niki didn’t know the lyrics to and didn’t care to. It made her wonder if she’d acted that silly, that carefree, when she was in her early twenties. Probably. But in those days, she and Eva had mostly cocooned themselves, spending all their spare time together, happily shutting others out. They worked out at the gym together, read books out loud to one another, made tofu stir-fries and baked oatmeal cookies in their tiny apartment, sat side by side in the locker room when they played together in Wisconsin. They didn’t have the time or need to participate in adolescent games like singing and pranking others. They didn’t need anything or anybody else.

  Niki sat up and swung her legs over the bed. The brochure said the hotel had a marvelous hot tub and heated pool on the second-story outside deck. She’d never swum outdoors in the winter, and the promise of cold air and hot water sounded like exactly the tonic to put her into a deep, restful sleep for the night. A coma, with any luck. She rifled in her bag for her swimsuit, threw it on and draped an oversized towel from the bathroom around her shoulders.

  Outside on the pool deck, the cold mountain air produced small, sharp needles in her lungs. Steam rose in a misty cloud from the pool, shrouding it. Beyond it was the hot tub, and it too was crowned in a warm fog of air. Diffused lights of green and blue glowed from somewhere deep in the pool, shimmering brightly on the surface, like a large jewel, perhaps one that belonged on the pendant of a giant. Snowcapped mountains perched not more than a thousand yards away, visible in the soft glow of the moonlight. The tableau was beautiful and vaguely romantic, although romantic thoughts were well and truly wasted on her. Her grief had slammed the door shut on that, in spite of her sister-in-law’s not-so-subtle suggestion that it was time she allowed herself be attracted to someone else.

  She decided to do the hot tub first, get nice and hot and then dive into the pool, which would be a few degrees cooler. Following the little glowing lights along the stone pathway, she picked her way to the hot tub and tossed her towel onto an empty bench nearby. Halfway to climbing in, she halted when she noticed through the fog that the tub was occupied. It was a woman, a dark-haired woman, who had her back to her. Damn, she thought, wanting to be alone. But the need to submerge her body in warm, rushing water won out and she climbed the rest of the way in, slowly, one leg at a time to adjust to the temperature, and eased herself down to the seat. Warmer than a bathtub, the water was almost too hot.

  “Good evening, Niki.”

  Niki’s head snapped up. Her heart stopped. It was Eva, reclining in water up to her neck. In her smile there was not a trace of surprise that they should meet here, high up in the mountains in the darkest part of the night. If anything, Eva looked as though she fully expected Niki to show up. And that wasn’t cool. Not in such an intimate setting as this. And not when she was striving to keep their friendship on a superficial level.

  “How did you know I was going to be here?”

  * * *

  “I didn’t.” It was the truth, and Eva knew that her pleasure at having Niki to herself was infusing her voice, dropping it an octave. Running into one another privately was exactly as she had hoped, once she realized both teams were staying at the same resort. But this—Niki in a bathing suit, sharing her hot tub—was a gift. “I heard on the bus ride earlier today that your team was coming in tonight.”

  A smile had yet to approach Niki’s face. “So much for our teams keeping their distance until the Games start.”

  Eva tried to bite back a laugh and failed. “Alison’s having a fit. We’re supposed to hate you guys, and in her playbook, it’s easier to think of you all as monsters if we don’t have to see you on a daily basis. You know, as in seeing that you do human things like eat breakfast and enjoy each other’s company. The nerve of you all!”

  Finally, a smile. “Please don’t tell me your team is moving onto Squamish next, or I’m going to start thinking you’re following us. Or we’re following you.”

  “No such luck. We’re going to Kamloops after this. We’ll be back in Vancouver at least a week before the opening ceremony. That gives Alison lots of time to whip us into a hateful lather.”

  Niki closed her eyes and leaned back against the edge of the tub. “I guess we’re all stuck with each other for a week. I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

  “Please don’t. Seeing you, I mean, being around you, makes me feel normal. Alison and some of the girls…” She didn’t want to finish her thought because she didn’t know how much, or if at all, she should share her suspicions that something nefarious was afoot between their teams. The wise choice was probably to keep her mouth shut.

  “What?” Niki said gently. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Niki’s attention was zeroed in on her like a gunsight. “Why do you say that?”

  Niki could always read her, but it was more than that. Niki possessed the kind of face, the kind of self-possessed stillness that said she was a safe place to lay your pain or your worries. It was also her honest eyes, her mouth that broke into an easy, genuine smile, the faint lines around her eyes that evoked wisdom and patience, in spite of the pain she must have endured from her wife’s illness and death and from single parenthood. It was hard to remember she’d once been so angry with Niki, so willing to walk away from her. And it was hard now to remember a reason w
hy she shouldn’t confide her suspicions in her.

  “You’ve got that look you get when your opponent’s cheating in the faceoff circle,” Niki added. “That look that says oh-no-you-don’t.”

  “I wish it was something that simple.”

  Niki tried for a joke. “Somebody’s cheating at more than just faceoffs?”

  Eva groaned. “Dammit, Niki.”

  “Eva, look. I know fairness in this game is as important to you as it is to me. What are you not saying? What’s going on? Because clearly something has you rattled.”

  Rattled, yes. Tossing and turning at night, definitely. This thing with Dani anticipating Canada’s breakout plays, the dinner meeting between Alison and Lynn, it was eating at her. Smaller things too like little indecipherable looks between Alison and Dani, and the fact that Dani had no business being rewarded with the kind of ice time she was getting. Something was off, and maybe Niki deserved to know about it. No, Niki did deserve to know, not only because Lynn O’Reilly might be involved, but because Niki had already once been screwed over by Alison’s win-at-any-cost gamesmanship and didn’t deserve to be her victim again. “Remember in Toronto, when you confronted me in the stands about spies and hacking into computers and—”

  “I showed poor judgment, Eva. I was emotional and I was lashing out, talking nonsense.”

  “No, you weren’t.”

  Eva quickly told her about her team’s deciphering of Team Canada’s breakout strategy and how she didn’t believe it was a coincidence. She told her about Alison and Lynn being spotted having dinner together the night before the game. She left out the part that it was Kathleen who’d seen them; no need to drag her into things for now. And she told her that her gut said something was going on.

  “Jesus, Eva. Are you kidding me with this?”

  For Niki to be sympathetic, to be an ally, to be as concerned about the problem as she was, was a given. Or so she thought. “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Look, I believe you. I think.” Niki put a hand up to halt Eva’s protestations. “I’m sorry, but I’m being honest. I appreciate you telling me, but the thing is, I can’t afford to jump to false conclusions, because if I do, it could hurt my team. And it could distract me into expending a lot of mental and emotional energy on something that might be nothing. As a coach, I can’t let myself go down that road. Not right now. I’ve got more than enough to worry about on the ice without worrying about cloak-and-dagger stuff off the ice.”

  Eva watched the way Niki’s eyes changed as she talked. They seemed as much a part of her communication as her words, amplifying each statement with fine yet uncertain shades of meaning.

  “All right, I understand.” She didn’t entirely, but then she wasn’t a head coach of a national team playing for Olympic gold in their home country. She couldn’t really put herself in Niki’s shoes. If Niki didn’t want to hear about this stuff, then so be it. She wasn’t about to force it down her throat.

  She sank lower into the water, soothed by its heat and power, and closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. But relaxing had never been her strong suit. If Alison and Lynn were up to something, Dani too, she damned well wouldn’t turn a blind eye. She’d get to the bottom of it, with or without Niki’s help or permission. Because the bottom line was, she didn’t want a gold medal—or any medal—if it wasn’t won fairly.

  “I’m sorry,” Niki said softly beside her. “I don’t want you to think I don’t care, it’s just that—”

  “It’s okay.” Eva’s hand found Niki’s under the water. “You’re right, you’ve got other things to worry about. Pretend I never said anything.”

  Niki squeezed her hand back. “I know I’ve been…a little standoffish with you. The timing of all this isn’t great, is it?”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “On a number of levels,” Niki said in a voice barely audible.

  “Niki, I don’t want us to hate each other ever again, okay? It’s not worth it, and I won’t let it happen. I know we have to keep a certain amount of distance right now. But…”

  “Yes?”

  What, exactly, did she want to say? So much and nothing at all. There was an emotional gulf between them far too wide and too difficult to bridge right now, not while the Games loomed closer. The physical chemistry that lay between them, however, was another matter. It thrummed and danced like electricity shooting the length of a wire, and it came without any effort, without any conscious thought whatsoever. Eva could feel it crackling in the hot mist rising over their heads, and most importantly, in the insistent pulse between her legs. She couldn’t be around Niki and not be attracted to her. It was some kind of sick law of physics that endeavored to make her life miserable.

  “How about this?” Eva finally ventured, her throat constricting with fear. It was only the relentless throbbing between her legs that made her brave. And foolish. “We could, you know, do things for each other while we’re here this week. To help us relax. To relieve the…the stress we’re under.”

  Niki’s mouth curled into an amused smile. “You’re not suggesting…”

  Of course she was. Mind-blowing, no-holds-barred, no-strings, multiple-orgasm sex. But she couldn’t find the guts to verbalize it.

  Niki extracted her hand, still smiling. “Don’t you already have a friend with benefits?”

  Eva felt the blood rush to her face. “Kathleen? No, not for a while. It, she and I, weren’t a good idea together.”

  She wished Niki would ask her why, but she didn’t.

  “I’m flattered. Really, I am. But I can’t imagine that it would be a good idea. Under the circumstances.”

  “Right. Okay.” Eva sat up straight, her humiliation complete. What a stupid, stupid mistake. And just when she and Niki had finally come to be civil toward one another.

  “What I would like, I think,” Niki said, “is if we could be friends. No benefits. And discreetly, of course.”

  Eva wanted to holler her relief. Instead, she said, “I’d like that very much.”

  Niki got to her feet and stepped out of the tub, Eva’s eyes following every curve of her body, every flexing muscle, every drop of water that fell from her smooth, soaked skin. Not a single ounce of her sexiness had diminished in the last decade. She was a beautiful woman.

  “How about tomorrow night?” Eva chanced.

  That same streak of amusement flashed in Niki’s eyes. “What?”

  “Here, I mean. Meet as friends,” Eva quickly amended. “Same time, same place?”

  “All right. Same time, same place.” Niki shook her head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roughing

  Niki followed Lynn onto the chairlift, a two-seater that would take them to the top of a ski run that didn’t look too difficult. While neither woman resembled anything close to an expert skier, Niki had suggested taking a couple of easy runs together as an excuse for some private time so they could talk candidly. The players had been sent to the village to shop and hang out—skiing was forbidden to them because the risk of injury was too great.

  “How’d you sleep last night?” Niki asked.

  “Good, how about you?”

  “Fine.” More than fine, actually. The hot tub had soothed her, and Eva, well… Eva and her friends-with-benefits suggestion had fired Niki up in places that had too long been dormant. “Lynn, is everything…okay with you?”

  Lynn looked at her like she’d grown two heads. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. How about us, then? Everything okay between you and me?”

  Lynn nodded coolly. “Sure. Far as I’m concerned, anyway.”

  There had been no open defiance from her, but Niki sometimes had the feeling that Lynn didn’t always agree with her methods, her strategies, her way of doing things. There was often a moment of hesitation from her in carrying out Niki’s instructions. A sigh or a tilting of the chin or a stiffening of her shoulders that struck Niki as contrary. Yet when she ha
d attempted to recruit Niki to the coaching job, she’d had nothing but praise for her and her coaching style. Her attitude now didn’t make sense, and yet there was so little Niki could put her finger on.

  “You know that you can talk to me, right? If there’s something I’m doing you don’t agree with? Or about anything else, for that matter. Any problems we might have with each other, we can work them out, all right? I’m available to talk anytime.”

  “Of course, Nik. We go back a long way.”

  “We do.” Which was why this growing chasm of emotional distance between the two of them was so mystifying. Over the span of fifteen years, there was a shared trust that went back to their time as teammates and, more recently, from coaching together.

  The lift deposited them at the top of the hill. There was no more time to talk as Lynn dug her poles into the snow and pushed off. Niki skate-skied a few steps behind her, then headed down the hill. The snow was light, powdery, like sifted flour, and it took little effort to ski quickly and smoothly, her leg muscles remembering what to do. It had been at least five years since she’d skied, and as the tree line rushed past her and the cold air zapped her lungs, she couldn’t think why she’d let it go so long.

  Lynn was faster, more powerful in keeping ahead. Which was fine. They could talk again on the ride back up. Eva’s warning last night about Lynn, that something might be going on between her and Alison, hadn’t strayed far from her thoughts. She’d played it cool with Eva, meaning it when she said she couldn’t afford to become emotionally embroiled in something that might very well be a nonstarter. But what if Alison was, in fact, up to her old tricks? What if she was snaring Lynn in something devious? And what kind of a leader would she be if she ignored the warning bells going off in her head? It’d be negligence. And she wasn’t a negligent or irresponsible coach. As much as she dreaded it, if something underhanded was going on, she needed to ferret it out and deal with it.