by Rhonda James
“You fell in love and lost your focus.” I wink at him, and he flips me off.
“You’re one to talk, dude. Your head’s been out of the game for most of the season. Coach has been riding your ass since the first two weeks of practice,” Masterson reminds me.
“I don’t think it can be blamed on any one player,” Rivers announces quietly. “We ended the season last year on a high, and we came back this fall with high hopes. But we’ve been off our game from the first day of practice. You have to remember, a lot has changed since last season. Twelve of our best players graduated last year. We lost another two to injuries. The rookies had a hard time meshing with the seasoned players. We were gonna work on that, but then a whole other slew of shit hit the fan. I think we need to prepare ourselves that it may not happen for us this season. I know I’m team captain and I’m supposed to stay positive, but can you picture what the semis would look like if we were to head into them next week? We’d probably be slaughtered by the third game in the series.”
I look around the table and shake my head. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We’ve had a rough go of it, compared to the last two years, but is that reason to give up? Scott, you and Brantley have the next ten to fifteen years to play. Hell, maybe even longer. But Jordan and I, this is our last shot. I’ll admit my head’s been all over the place, and I haven’t always been focused at practice. But when I’m on the ice and the game is on, I give no less than one hundred and ten percent. And you all know that. Our team may not be as united as we were last year, but we still have a shot. Until the last puck drops, we’re still in this. And I won’t go down without a fight.”
I hang my fist above the center of the table and leave it there.
“Brothers?” I ask without looking at them. One by one, they hold up their fist until we pound it out as one.
“Brothers!” we say in unison.
About that time, the doorbell rings. Since none of us are expecting a visitor, no one bothers to get up.
“Let’s not all jump up at once,” I mutter under my breath and stand.
“I’m not expecting any visitors.” Rivers goes back to drinking his coffee.
“Don’t look at me. I try to avoid inviting people here,” Masterson jokes.
“Cassie’s got her own key, so she doesn’t have to ring the bell. It’s probably your girlfriend, Davis. She’s not bold enough to walk through the front door without ringing the bell. So, there, it’s probably for you after all,” Cage surmises.
“How convenient,” I mumble and open the door to find my dad standing on the front porch. “Dad?”
“Son.” He steps into the house and gives me a one-armed hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah. You too.” I smile, trying to mask the surprise on my face. “What brings you to Ann Arbor?”
“Work, actually—“
“Mr. D! What the hell brings you to our humble abode?” Rivers comes up behind me and shakes Dad’s hand, and the rest of the guys aren’t far behind.
“Scott, good to see you. You’ve been looking really good in the crease.”
Cage skips the handshake and goes straight for a hug, like he always does. “Good to see you again, Mr. D. Did Momma D. Come with you?”
“Afraid not, Brantley. She’s back home working on a library fundraiser. Derek tells me you ended up signing with Detroit last July. I’m really proud of you. You, too, Scott. You boys got your work cut out for you this summer. I hear the Devils training is one of the toughest around.” Dad turns and sees one more face to greet. “Get over here, Jordan.”
Masterson lifts his head and gives Dad a genuine smile. His parents have a home in Traverse City, and after we all started playing together four years ago, our parents began getting together whenever they were all in town for a game. My parents get along well with the Mastersons, so they’ve been getting together twice a month for dinner.
Dad gives Jordan a hug and thumps him on the back. “I spoke with your dad on my way down here and he asked me to give you that hug.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davis.”
“So, Jordan, your dad tells me you’ve had a job offer out in California. Are you excited about it?” Dad pulls out a chair and sits down at the table. I go to the coffee pot and hold it up but he shakes his head. “I’m pretty much coffee’d out. How about a bottle of water instead?”
Rivers holds up his hand and cuts Masterson off before he can respond. “California? You never said anything about a job in California? What gives?”
Honestly, I’m not surprised he’s looking at jobs out west. He’s studying computer science. Everyone knows the technology giants are located in Silicon Valley. Still, it’s hard to think about one of your family members moving away. What surprises me more is that he hasn’t said anything about this to anyone. We’ve always been so close, but lately Masterson has been more withdrawn. He’ll still hang with us, but he doesn’t participate in the conversation the way he used to. Truth be told, he’s been this way since the beginning of fall semester. I sorta feel guilty I haven’t asked him about it until now. Since this is news to all of us, we stand around and wait for him to spill his guts.
“Guys, it’s no big deal. You all knew there was a strong possibility I could end up out west. There aren’t any places hiring in Michigan. I have to go where the jobs are.”
“So you’re seriously considering it? Why haven’t you said anything about it?” I demand to know.
“I don’t know, dude. I guess there just hasn’t been a good time. You and Cage are busy with your girls, and Rivers is always at the gym. They only called two days ago, and I’m still weighing my options. Theirs isn’t the only offer on the table. There’s another in Seattle, and I have an interview in two weeks.” He looks solemnly at all of us and gives his shoulder a shrug. “Besides, it’s not as if we can live here forever. We all have to grow up sometime, right?”
“Hells no, we don’t. Who’s to say we can’t find another house off-campus and stay together another four years?” Rivers stomps over to the fridge and pulls out a beer.
“Dude, it’s ten a.m.” Cage gives him a look that says, what the fuck, but Rivers ignores him and pops the top anyway.
“Dad, you never told us what brought you here.” I lean back against the counter and wait. God, I hope this isn’t about the job in Atlanta.
“Well, funny you should ask that, because the reason I’m here affects all of you.” He pulls out a chair and gestures for all of us to join him around the table.
“Coach Bishop called me a few days ago. He told me he wanted to do something to honor the outgoing senior players. Something that would leave more of an impact than a simple announcement before a game. He wants GLU’s sports magazine to feature each senior on the cover of the next six issues. There’ll be an interview and a full-page photo shoot featured inside. It’s a unique way to honor and celebrate the work each of you have put into this team. I have to say, I was humbled by his call. I’m honored to be a part of this tribute.” Dad folds his hands together and rests his chin against his knuckles while he waits for the idea to sink in.
Cage is the first to voice what we are probably all thinking. “I don’t get it. I mean, I like the idea, but why now? The season’s almost over.”
“And that’s why it’s the perfect time to do this,” Dad exclaims. “Right now, all eyes are on the Thunder to make a comeback. The team captain and his assistant captain are headed for the NHL after graduation. Their leading forward came back from a devastating injury two years ago and is now one of the highest scoring forwards in the college league. And let’s not forget Jordan is being sought after by the most reputable tech giant in the world. This team has some pretty impressive talent. We all know that.” He gestures to each one of us. “Kevin Bishop knows that. And the rest of this campus, and this town, are also aware of it. This is big, and that’s why this plan is genius.”
“I’m in,” Cage claps his hands together. “When do we get started?”
“No time like the present.” Dad stands and joins him.
“Wait. You want to do a photo shoot right now?” Cage’s jaw drops.
“Well, I didn’t drive all this way just to look at your pretty face. Yes, now!” Dad laughs.
“Don’t mind him, Dad. He’s just worried his hair won’t look good enough for the camera,” I say jokingly then have to duck in order to escape Cage’s swinging fist.
“There will be plenty of time to get pretty, son,” Dad teases. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll shoot your cover last,” he adds on his way out the door.
We end up spending the next six hours changing multiple times, posing, and getting oiled by beautiful women.
Yeah, you heard me correctly. Oiled.
As in. Rubbed. Down.
It makes for an interesting afternoon.
Cage and I are the only ones comfortable taking our shirt off. Masterson doesn’t want any part of it, but Rivers is willing until he lifts his shirt and reveals a string of purple hickies on his chest. Dad thinks it’ll be best to leave his shirt on. When Coach Bishop walks in and catches a glimpse of it, he heartily agrees. I don’t know whom Rivers is hooking up with lately, but she sure enjoys leaving her mark.
“Dude. It looks as if you’ve been hooking up with a fucking vacuum cleaner.” I lean closer to get a better look. “Six? Damn, bro.”
He yanks the shirt over his head and grabs the stick he is using as a prop. “What can I say? She likes sucking on things. Who am I to deny her that right?” He wears a cocky grin as he goes over and takes up position in front of the camera.
I just shake my head and turn to Cage. “I don’t know who he’s screwing these days, but she’s good for him.”
He just laughs and agrees. “Random sex definitely seems to agree with him. I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy in over a year.”
“Ashley must have been one hell of a lay, because she was one crazy-ass bitch to put up with.”
“Bitches be crazy.” We pound it out and go back to laughing at Rivers.
We each have our time in front of the camera and by the time it’s over, Dad says he has more than enough shots to work with. He’ll head home and go through all of them, touching up any that may not be up to par, then he’ll send a selection to Coach for submission to the magazine.
I know he is anxious to get back on the road, so I help him carry his equipment back to the car and pull him in for a hug. Dad and I have always been close. Growing up, some days he felt more like my big brother than my father. We’ve always gotten along well. We see eye to eye on most things. And he’s never made me feel like I was doing the wrong thing, even when some of the choices I’ve made have been questionable. He always stood by me and let me make my own mistakes. He said I’d never learn unless I make a few mistakes every now and again.
Needless to say, I’m still learning.
CHAPTER THIRTY
LANEY
I glance nervously at the clock for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. It’s already one o’clock, and class should have ended thirty minutes ago. I still need to pack up here then make a mad dash for my car and race across town in rush hour traffic in order to make it to The Library in time for my shift and then I’m meeting up with Cassie to go to the game. I don’t normally go in this early, but I’m covering for one of the waitresses who needed a couple of hours off this afternoon.
I’ve been trying to take on every extra shift I can, just to earn as much money as possible. I’m hoping if I can come up with at least half the amount still owed on the mortgage, Matthew will see once and for all that I can actually pull this off. I have close to seven thousand dollars saved up and have already informed Matthew I plan on bringing it to the bank next week.
Ms. Sutton finally signals the end of class, and I make my way over to my bag and start changing my clothes. I don’t have time to head back to the dressing rooms. Besides, it isn’t as if I need to get completely naked; I’ll still have on my bra and underwear. I’ve just removed my leotard when I hear a few snickers off to my right. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know who is behind me.
I don’t have to, but I still look.
What? You know you would do the same thing.
“Nipple piercings? Really, Laney? That’s so cliché.” I turn and find Katie Roberts scowling at me as if I’m a pile of dog shit she just stepped in. I return the look. It isn’t hard. The mere sight of her has always left a foul taste in my mouth, so the feeling is purely mutual.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Katie. Your boyfriend seemed to enjoy staring at them the other night when he watched me dance. You might want to think about having yours done, you know, as a way to keep him interested.” I turn on my heel and walk away. I don’t bother looking back; her high-pitched scream followed by crying is enough to confirm what I already suspected. Her boyfriend is a cheater. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to draw. He hangs out at the club almost every night and always brings a mason jar stuffed full of singles. That, and he also stares at me every chance he gets when I see him in South Quad. It’s creepy, but he seems harmless enough.
Normally, I’m not such a bitch, but Katie is one of Andrea’s friends, so it’s only natural for her to hate me with a passion. In fact, half the class must think I’m a bitch, because most of them avoid having any contact with me unless they are forced to. It’s like I’ve become the class pariah or something. I try to pretend it doesn’t get to me. But it does.
I guess I’m to blame for most of it. I’ve been in the same classes with most of these girls for nearly three years. During that time, I haven’t gone out of my way to strike up a friendship. Believe it or not, Andrea is someone I used to consider a friend. Seeing as how we’re in the same dance program, we’ve been in the same classes for the better part of two years. After my mom died during freshman year, something within me changed. Gone was the meek and naïve Delaney Dixon; in her place is a girl who lost her passion for life.
I’ve always been a dancer. It’s in my blood. From the time I was a little girl, I’ve known what I was going to do with my life. I was going to grow up and be just like Mom, except I didn’t just want to teach dance. I wanted to be a choreographer and work with professional dance teams, or on movie sets. The idea of having the same routine day after day feels stifling. I like the idea of having spontaneity in my career while maintaining stability in my personal life.
Which is another reason keeping our home is so important to me.
While everything else in my life has fallen apart, the foundation of the home Mom and Dad built has remained firm.
There are some nights when I’ll drive out to the house after I leave the club. I could have a shit day and be ready to tear someone’s head off. Hell, some nights I drive out there and just feel like crying. But when I walk through that front door, it’s almost as if everything settles. The wrongs are righted. The tears are wiped away. And the hurt and anger just evaporate.
I need that in my life. And that’s exactly what being around Derek does to me. When I’m with Derek, I see the girl I used to be. She may not be fully present, but she’s there. And the longer I’m with him, the more I see of that girl returning.
While I long to be that girl again, a part of me wonders which girl Derek fell in love with, and I worry if he will still love me if I lose the part that made him want me in the first place.
Sometimes I think it was easier living behind that mask I used to wear. That mask made it so I didn’t care what people thought and I sure as hell wouldn’t have cared about love.
But I’m different now. Because of Derek. Because of love.
Yep. Meeting Derek Davis was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DEREK
Tonight’s game against State is important. We haven’t had the best season, but we still have a shot. All we have to do is kick State’s ass then we’ll move on to post-season play. It will be a hard fig
ht, but I know we can pull it off. State’s lines are strong. It’s no secret our third and fourth lines have been struggling since the beginning of the season. We’ve had quite a few injuries, which left a gaping hole in those lines.
Tonight, as I dress for the game, I’m highly aware this could be the last time I sit on the bench with these guys. I consider all of them my friends. We are a tight-knit group. Some of us closer than others. Four years ago, I came to GLU a scrappy eighteen-year-old who wasn’t afraid to push boundaries on the ice. Hell, I still consider myself scrappy, only now I’m bigger and stronger, but still not afraid to throw down when the need arises.
I’ve learned a lot about myself since the first night I stepped out onto the ice in this arena. I’ve learned it doesn’t matter how good of a player I think I am; there is always someone who is better. I’ve learned that fucking one of the bunnies, then hooking up with her friend a couple nights later, is a guaranteed way to get your face slapped in the middle of a crowded bar. I’ve also learned how quickly your dreams of going pro can be snatched away when you suffer the wrong kind of injury.
During my freshman year, end of our season, I was playing in a game against Western, and when I came around the net, I collided hard with one of their defensemen. The blade of his skate caught my knee just right and put me out of commission. I spent months in physical therapy, but I never regained full mobility. Not the kind of mobility I was used to. Skating was harder. Long, repetitive drills were sometimes agony. After a tough game, it was not unusual to find me soaking in an ice bath to reduce the inevitable swelling.
After the injury, my priorities changed. Once I was back on the ice, when the scouts came to watch, I made sure Coach told them I was no longer interested in a career as a hockey player.
For me, there’s always been something magical about the game. I can remember being a kid and sitting in the living room with my dad while he watched a game. He’d drink beer and hurl obscenities at the television when a shot on goal was blocked. Or when a referee made a call he didn’t agree with. Mom would get mad and remind him I was just a kid and I’d probably grow up to swear like a sailor.
