Playing Hurt

by Kelly Jamieson

  The air in the room pressed down on us, the mood dipping.

  “Hell,” Boosh muttered. “All the more reason he should be here.”

  “Yeah, we’d cheer him up,” Rico said.

  “He’s probably home in his garage sanding down a table or something, all by himself,” Chase said.

  “He enjoys that.” Hallsy shrugged. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on him.”

  “We are,” Kendra added with a sweet smile. She and Hallsy exchanged a tender glance that made my heart squeeze.

  I didn’t know who Aleks was—maybe Nicky’s wife? That would be so sad. Especially since Max himself had lost his wife a couple of years ago.

  I mostly listened as they talked about their friend, then about the game last night. Boosh (Julien Boucher) had been injured and was apparently going to be out for a while much to his disgust. They trash-talked the other team, all of them angry about the bad hit Boosh had taken, and berating the ref for an early whistle that resulted in an Aces goal being disallowed. I’d watched the game last night and I agreed. “Babinsky never had control of that puck,” I said, referring to the Flames goalie. “The puck was loose the entire time. That ref never should have blown the whistle.”

  Silence fell, and several pairs of eyes focused on me. I blinked and glanced at Chase.

  He smiled at me with a weird expression in his eyes…intense, admiring, and very, very warm.

  My insides quivered, and I gave him a toothy smile back.

  “She knows hockey,” he said, breaking our eye lock to focus on his friends.

  “Yeah.” Cam pursed his lips, his eyebrows elevated.

  “That call sucked,” I added.

  Especially since they’d ended up losing in a shoot-out. If that goal had counted, the game wouldn’t have gone into overtime. Since I couldn’t yell at the TV, I’d chanted “Ref, you suck” in a normal voice.

  The conversation moved on. Chase’s arm came around my waist, pulling me into him. I shifted willingly, smiling up at him. He looked back at me, still with that heat in his eyes that made me think he wanted to drag me into a bedroom and do dirty things to me…again…

  “Does it turn you on that I know hockey?” I asked him with a flirty look.

  He moved his mouth next to my ear and whispered, “Everything about you turns me on.”

  I smiled.

  “You should come to games with us,” Jenna said to me.

  “For sure!” Katelyn Bennet, wife of player Tanner Bennet, agreed. “You can sit with us.”

  “Thanks.” I might feel like a bit of a fraud hanging out with the wives and girlfriends, but it was nice of them to ask me. “I’ve been trying to keep a low profile while I’m here in Chicago.”

  Katelyn smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure nobody would bother you at a game.”

  “Okay. It would be fun to go to more games.”

  Chapter 18

  Chase

  Chase Hartman is really struggling. His ice time has been reduced to below ten minutes per game recently and he doesn’t have much of a scoring touch. Hartman has just two goals and eight assists this year. With his inability to score, you’d hope he’d be responsible in his own end, but Hartman is -8 this year. In addition, he’s been taking unnecessary penalties.

  —Puck Talk

  “My dad is insanely dying to meet you.” Jordyn squeezed my hand. “You can’t be nervous.”

  “I’m about to puke.”

  “Just think of him as another fan.”

  “A fan whose daughter I’m fucking.”

  “Well, we won’t talk about that.”

  “He’ll know.”

  “He doesn’t want to think about that, believe me. Don’t worry.”

  We were on our way to her parents’ place in Lakeview for Sunday dinner. I wasn’t even sure how this had happened. After Jordyn and I had gone to see Blue Man Group, which her mom apparently loved but which I’d never seen, Jordyn had talked to her mom who suggested Jordyn should bring me over for dinner. Meeting the parents was about as appealing as taking a butt end in the nuts, but somehow I agreed to it.

  Yeah, I was shitting bricks and sweating despite the icy February temps, but truthfully I was also curious to meet the people who’d brought Jordyn into the world. Jordyn Banks. Music superstar. “This is so weird,” I muttered.

  “Why?”

  “You’re Jordyn Banks. Musical superstar. It’s weird that you have parents.”

  She laughed. “Everyone has parents. I mean, at some point.”

  “I just never imagined…”

  “We don’t have to do this. Really, Chase, if this is too much for you, we don’t have to go.”

  She’d made it clear that it was just a casual dinner, and her dad would enjoy it because he was such a big hockey fan. I had to sack up about this. “No, no, it’s fine.”

  “Turn right at the stop sign.”

  I put on the blinker and made the turn, and she directed me to park on the street wherever there was an empty spot. In summer I imagined all the trees lining the street provided leafy green shade; right now the bare branches stretched black against the pale overcast sky.

  Jordyn led the way through the wrought iron gate and up the short sidewalk to the big gray stone house. She didn’t knock or ring the bell, just opened the door and stepped into the foyer.

  We were greeted by a rush of warm air and the scent of roast beef. My stomach gave a robust rumble as a woman emerged from the kitchen. “Hi! You’re here!”

  I shut the door behind us, closing out the frosty air, watching the woman approach. She was petite, like Jordyn, but rounded, her ash blond hair in a shoulder length bob.

  “Let me take your jackets,” she said, beaming at us.

  When that was done, Jordyn introduced her mother to me, and I shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Banks.”

  “Call me Pam.”

  Then Jordyn’s father appeared, clearly eager to meet one of his favorite team’s players. He was an inch or two shorter than me, a fit-looking man in his forties, with some gray hair at his temples, wearing dark-rimmed glasses.

  “This is my dad, Mark,” Jordyn said. “Dad, this is Chase Hartman.”

  “Nice to meet you, Chase.” Mark gave me a firm handshake and a keen inspection.

  I smiled my most innocent grin. “Good to meet you as well.”

  “Come in, come in.” Mark led the way past a smallish living room at the front of the house and a dark oak staircase that climbed to the second floor, to a great room at the back, combining kitchen, dining, and living space, French doors at the rear presumably leading out to the yard. A TV mounted on the wall was on, playing a hockey game, and a newspaper and an empty glass sat on the coffee table in front of the tan leather couch.

  “What can I get you to drink?” Pam asked, bustling behind the long island that separated the kitchen area. “I’m having wine. Would you like some, Jordyn?”

  “Sure, that would be great.”

  I opted for a beer, which Mark was also drinking, and Pam got us all settled in with drinks and a platter of snacks. Mark turned down the volume on the TV, but brought me up to date. “Canadiens are leading three–two,” he said. “Penguins are going to have to quit taking stupid penalties.”

  “I hear you like hockey?”

  “Yep. I have to say, it’s pretty cool to have one of the Aces sitting here in our family room.”

  “Well, thanks. I’m still in awe of the fact that I’m visiting Jordyn Banks’s parents. I’m a big fan of your daughter’s music.” Well, I was a fan of everything about her.

  “She’s very talented,” Mark agreed with a proud look.

  “She gets that from me,” Pam said with a wink.

  Jordyn laughed. “Neither of you can sing.”

&nb
sp; “True.” Pam sighed. “But I do love music.”

  “We’re not sure where her talent came from,” Mark said. “It kind of mystified us when she was a kid, singing all the time.”

  “When she was three we bought her a toy piano for Christmas,” Pam said. “She pounded on that thing constantly and made up songs. Some of them were a little awkward.”

  “Like what?” I leaned forward, intrigued.

  “Stop, Mom.” Jordyn rolled her eyes.

  “No, no. I want to hear.” I shot Jordyn an evil grin.

  “Well, back then we had a cat,” Pam said. “We’d promised Jordyn she could name the cat whatever she wanted, and she decided to name it Snatch, because he would snatch things with his paws.”

  I listened, my jaw going slack as my mind worked. Yep, I heard right.

  “So she made up this song about a pussy named Snatch,” Pam continued, eyes dancing.

  I turned to Jordyn, dying to tell her what a dirty girl she’d been even at age three, but restraining myself.

  She covered her face with her hand. “I was three! I didn’t know what it meant!”

  “How did you keep a straight face?” I asked Pam and Mark.

  “It was difficult,” Mark said.

  I leaned back into the couch, grinning. Okay, this wasn’t so bad. If Jordyn’s parents could make jokes about a pussy named Snatch, we were going to get along just fine.

  “Tell me more,” I invited.

  Pam smiled and sipped her wine. “Well, she loved to sing, obviously, but sometimes she got the lyrics wrong.”

  Beside me, Jordyn groaned. “This was such a bad idea.”

  “Like, ‘We built this city on sausage rolls.’ ” Pam grinned.

  Mark chuckled. “I remember ‘See that girl, watch her scream, kicking the dancing queen.’ ”

  “Is that wrong?” I asked, tongue in cheek.

  Jordyn elbowed me.

  “And the Eurythmics song…‘Sweet dreams are made of cheese,’ ” Mark added.

  I cracked up. I changed my mind. This was a first-rate idea.

  Even Jordyn was smiling. I liked that she could take a little teasing. I liked how her parents joked about her with obvious love and affection.

  We ate dinner, a delicious meal of perfectly cooked roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Hopefully I didn’t embarrass myself with how much I ate, but damn, a home-cooked meal was awesome.

  However, Jordyn’s dad took the opportunity to grill me about my play so far this year. Jordyn apparently hadn’t told them about my wrist, which was great, because I didn’t want anyone other than the team to know about it, but I found myself wanting to explain it to Mark. On the other hand, I didn’t want to seem like I was making excuses for my shitty play.

  I was hearing the chatter that fans were losing patience with me. My minutes were being cut, and I was spending more time on the bench. I fucking despised it with a burning hatred, and it made me both angry and depressed. I had my appointment in Rochester in a couple of weeks, and even I was now admitting that I needed to figure out what the hell was going on with my wrist.

  “It’s been a challenge this year for sure,” I said, looking down at my plate. “I’ve been working on some things to try to get better.”

  Jordyn shot me a nervous glance. She swallowed. I could tell she wanted to say something too.

  I could also see that her dad wanted to say more, but caught the glare she sent him and didn’t.

  “I know I’m letting the fans down,” I said quietly. “Believe me, I know it. This isn’t how I’m capable of playing.”

  Mark nodded, the atmosphere in the room now thick and heavy. “What’s up with all the injuries?”

  I grimaced. “Bad luck. Boosh is out. Gander’s out. Rupper’s day to day.” We’d called up some guys from our minor league team.

  “So you’re not going to the Grammys, obviously,” Mom said to Jordyn. “Are you disappointed to miss them?”

  Jordyn sighed. “Sure. I could’ve gone, but…it feels awkward.” She shrugged. “I’d rather just stay here.”

  “When are the Grammys?” I asked. I hadn’t thought about this, even though I knew she’d been nominated. Jordyn hadn’t mentioned it at all.

  “A week from today,” she answered. “Sunday night.”

  We were in town and not playing that night. I made a mental note of that.

  “When do you go back to see the specialist?” Pam asked her daughter.

  “End of March.”

  “How’s your throat feeling?”

  “It feels great. Fine. I’ve been writing…just wish I could sing.”

  “Be patient, sweetie,” Pam said. “It’ll be worthwhile.”

  “I know.” She sighed, then changed the subject. “So, Chase really enjoyed Blue Man Group.”

  Grateful for the change, I said, “It was really cool. A great show.”

  We talked more about that through the dessert Pam served, a homemade apple pie that I nearly wept over, and then we moved back to the family room and watched the hockey game, chatting about inconsequential things. With Jordyn snuggled up against me, I relaxed again.

  When we left, I said, “Thanks so much for inviting me, Pam. That was the best dinner I’ve had in a long time.”

  “You’re so welcome. It was lovely to meet you, Chase, come anytime.” She stepped nearer and patted my arm, adding in a low voice, “I hope Mark didn’t upset you with all his questions.”

  Surprised, I shook my head. “No, of course not.”

  “I can tell you’re frustrated. But you’ll figure things out.”

  “Thanks. I sure hope so.”

  Her words of encouragement and faith in me took me aback, since my own parents were still bugging me about what was going on, trying to get me to admit I was out partying every night or something.

  “I like your parents,” I told Jordyn in my car.

  “They’re good people. Sorry about my dad bugging you.”

  “No, it’s fine. At least he wasn’t yelling at me that the team should get rid of me.”

  “Jesus. No. He’s just passionate about his team.”

  “That’s great. We love fans like that.” Except when they wanted me gone. I swallowed a sigh.

  * * *

  —

  “I hate hospitals.”

  “Me too.” I met Jordyn’s eyes and smiled. “So that means we’re really being altruistic, right?”

  One corner of her mouth kicked up. “Right.”

  It was the Friday after the dinner with her parents. Today, she looked more like her pop star self—black leggings, short black boots with killer heels, a long T-shirt with a glittery logo, and a black leather jacket, with her trademark smoky eyes and red lips in place. Despite the glam style, I could see she was nervous.

  I wrapped an arm around her neck, pulled her in and kissed her temple. “It’ll be fine.”

  “I know. I’m just…this is hard.”

  “It’s not about us, though, hmm? And it’ll be worth it.”

  She tilted her head back to gaze up at me, and something shone in her eyes, something beautiful and warm and…almost loving. For a few seconds she didn’t speak, then she said, “You’re right. You are so right. Let’s go.”

  We entered the hospital and took the elevator to the fourth floor children’s ward. “Thanks for coming with me,” I said in a low voice as the doors slid open.

  She smiled. “I’m happy to. I love this idea.”

  We stopped at the nursing station to check in, and all work ceased as nurses, doctors, ward clerks, and orderlies stopped to gape at us.

  “Um…r-room f-four-ten,” the nurse stammered, her gaze flicking wildly back and forth between Jordyn and me.

  I flashed a smile. “Thanks.”


  We walked down the hall past other staff whose heads swiveled to stare, then I knocked on the open door of room four-ten. There were two beds in the room, both occupied by boys who we knew were Ethan and Zach Templeton, ages fourteen and twelve. A woman I assumed to be their mom sat on a chair between their beds.

  Ethan and Zach looked up. I held up a hand. “Hi, guys.”

  Their mouths dropped open. Their mom’s jaw dropped too.

  Ethan and Zach played hockey and had been on their way back to Chicago from a tournament when the van they’d been in crashed. Two of their teammates had died in the accident, and they’d ended up in the hospital with broken bones and some internal injuries. Luckily, they were going to be okay, but it had to be hard for them.

  I moved into the room followed by Jordyn, and their eyes expanded to the size of hockey pucks on seeing her.

  “Hi,” Jordyn said with an easy smile. “Which of you is Ethan and which of you is Zach?”

  One of the boys lifted a hand. “I’m Ethan.”

  “Hey, Ethan.” Jordyn walked toward his bed. “I heard you like my music.”

  The poor kid. He kept trying to say something but nothing came out.

  Jordyn handed him one of the packages she carried. “This is for you. Both of my CDs, signed by me. Also one of my T-shirts and a hat.” She turned to Zach. “I didn’t know what music you like, so this is an iTunes gift card for you. And a T-shirt and hat too.”

  Their faces both wore a stunned expression.

  “I brought you some stuff too,” I said. “Although I know Jordyn Banks totally outclasses me.”

  They both shook their heads in vehement denial although they were clearly mesmerized by Jordyn.

  “Signed sticks.” I held them up. “The whole team signed them. And Aces jerseys and hats for you.”

  “What is happening?” their mother asked, a smile trembling on her lips. She set her hand to her throat. “I can’t believe this.”

  I smiled. “We heard about the accident and thought we’d come visit and maybe cheer you guys up. Being in the hospital sucks.”

  “Yeah,” both boys agreed.