by April Fire
I pushed it to the back of my mind as I climbed out of my car and walked into the building; my heart flipped in my chest when I saw who was leaning up at reception.
“Emily!” I called. I had dropped her off at her place last night, and she hadn’t made any noises about inviting me inside. Not that I could blame her. She turned and smiled when she saw me, and I couldn’t help but let my eyes drift across her body. She was wearing a tight shirt and narrow pants, and I could imagine the outline of her body beneath the fabric with ease, remember what it felt like beneath my fingers.
“Hey, Sam,” she flushed a little, but kept her cool. “Could you tell Darla here that I am allowed in the stadium while you’re training?”
“She is,” I smiled at Darla, who raised her brows as she looked between the two of us. “Promise.”
“Go ahead,” Darla sighed tiredly, waving us both in, and I held the door open for Emily. We made our way down the seemingly endless corridor in silence, until she spoke at last.
“So…last night was fun,” she remarked, glancing over at me as if checking to see how I would react.
“It was,” I agreed with a little smirk. “Really fun.”
“But…I don’t think it should happen again,” She suggested, stumbling over her words slightly as thought she wasn’t quite sure how to get them out. “If that’s okay with you?”
I let out a small breath, not realizing that I’d been holding it up until that point.
“Just because we’ll be working together, and I don’t want things to be awkward,” she blurted, reading my sigh as upset. I shook my head and held up my hand.
“It’s fine, you’re right,” I agreed. “We shouldn’t have…nothing should have happened. I get that. Let’s just put it behind us, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed, and we opened the door on to the stadium. The entire team was there; it seemed as though I was a little late.
There was a small murmur around the room as the little clusters of Crows noticed the two of us walking through the doors together; I did my best to pay them no attention. I strode down to the changing rooms, opened the door, and glanced behind me to see Emily taking her place in the stands. Thank God that had been averted.
“So, you fuck her?” Nathan was leaning up against the lockers when I came in, taking me by surprise.
“Yup,” I nodded.
“Good?”
“None of your business,” I shot back, raising my eyebrows at him warningly. “Just ‘cause you’ve not been laid in forever.”
“You guys dating now?” He brushed off my comment easily. He’d heard a lot worse between these four walls, that was for sure.
“Nah, just a one-night thing,” I replied with a shrug. “No big deal. We were drinking, it was fun, but that’s it.”
“Is that what she told you?” Nathan cocked his head at me. “It never works out like that, you know.”
“It’s mutual,” I snapped, growing tired of his questioning. “Come on, let’s get on the ice.”
Training began, and I found my eyes drifting towards Emily a few times, watching her as she scribbled notes and made comments into her little voice recorder periodically. Her hair was tied back and she had rings around her eyes- but if she was hungover, she certainly wasn’t showing it. I wondered why she had been so into me last night- I mean, she just got here. Most of the women I hooked up with did it for the sense of celebrity. Emily had looked exhausted from the first moment she walked through the doors here, and I wondered if there was something else that had driven her out of the city. She seemed reluctant to talk about it last night, deflecting my questions about what life was like there. Maybe it wasn’t as safe a place for her as she made out.
Training finished up, and Johnson cornered me before I could get back to the locker room.
“Have you thought about it yet?” He demanded, his voice low and quiet. Emily was lingering behind us, and I could see that she was trying to overhear what we were saying.
“What?”
“The offer, you know,” he replied impatiently. “I got a call from them today.”
“Really? This soon?” My eyes widened. This wasn’t what I expected- I’d had no idea they were as keen as all that, and it was intimidating to think about a team of that size coming after me as aggressively as they were.
“Yeah, this soon,” he nodded. “So, anything?”
“No,” I admitted. “I’m still thinking about it. You said I had until the end of the month, right?”
“Right,” he nodded. “But I can’t promise they won’t find someone else in the meantime.”
“I know,” I shot back, defensive, and we exchanged a hard look before Johnson backed off and made his way down to his office. I pulled my helmet off and slumped down on to the slatted wooden benches at the edge of the stadium, letting out a sigh that turned to steam as it left my mouth.
“What was that about?”
I looked up, and found Emily standing above me, hands on hips. Her recorder was in her hand, and it was obvious she’d heard all of our conversation. I met her gaze and held it for a few moments before I responded.
“Nothing,” I shot back childishly.
“Are you moving to another team?”
“Turn that off and I’ll tell you,” I nodded towards the microphone in her hand, and she held it out to me.
“It’s already off,” she promised. “Here, look.”
I inspected the small device for a second and, seeing no obvious activity, I patted the bench next to me. By the time she wrote this story, I either would have gone or I wouldn’t, so having the world find out about it wouldn’t matter. Besides, I needed someone to talk to this about, somebody outside the game.
“I’ve been offered a position,” I began, talking slowly. It was the first time I’d spoken these words out loud to anyone since I’d first heard them a couple of days before. They’d been zooming around my head at such a speed, however, that I almost felt practiced reciting them.
“Where?”
“Philadelphia.”
“Not with the-“ she raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, with the Soars,” I finished her sentence for her. Even saying that out loud, it didn’t feel real. She stared at me for a moment.
“And you’re thinking about it?” She sounded incredulous.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“How?” Emily’s mouth dropped open after she spoke, the word hanging the air between us.
“I’m just…not ready to go yet,” I looked at my feet, mumbling, feeling the way I did when I told my Mom that I wouldn’t be attending college. “I’ve still got so much to do here.”
“That you couldn’t do with the Soars?” She pointed out. “Come on, if any of the guys in that locker room got offered this, what do you think they would do?”
“I think they’d take it,” I admitted. “But they’re not me, are they?”
“No, but I bet some of them wish they were,” she snapped, getting to her feet.
“Hey, did I do something wrong?” I looked after her as she rolled her shoulders back.
“Nothing,” she replied, her voice steady and suddenly cool. “Maybe we should sit down tomorrow, have a proper conversation about this.”
“I’m fine, I don’t need you to-“
“For the article,” she cut across me, smiling slightly at the fact that I’d forgotten. I nodded, feeling chided.
“Oh, yeah,” I agreed, glancing down. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
“See you then,” she began to walk away, and I looked up after her. Why did it feel as though I’d just let her down? I thought things were cool between us after what had happened last night- but it felt as though I’d just firmly put my foot in whatever was still lingering between us.
Chapter Seven
I arrived back at my apartment, and immediately grabbed the handful of takeout menus sitting in the kitchen drawer. I was still feeling the hangover, and all sitting that freezing cold stadium had made m
e want was a nice, hot pizza and my bed. As soon as I was through the door, I wriggled out of my shirt and bra and pulled on an enormous t-shirt. There, that was better.
I grabbed my phone and ordered my usual- a large Hawaiian with a Sprite. I had to hold myself back from ordering it with half-pepperoni, like Joel always had it- I felt a short stab of pain when I hung up, and wondered how long this would last.
That said, my encounter last night had made things a lot more…palatable, I could swear to that much. Yeah, it had been a bad idea and I kind of wish that I had at least thought it through beforehand- but hey, most of the truly fun things in life were terrible ideas anyway. He was good, and he’d been at least nice enough to drive me home afterwards and act like an adult about it the next day. I could handle a few knowing looks from his teammates if it meant that we could still talk like grown-ups.
I lay back in bed and let out a sigh, reaching down under the covers to kick off my pants. I found my mind drifting to the conversation I’d had with Sam earlier that day. I felt a heavy sense of dread over it, mainly because I knew that I had found the story around which to build my article- there was no doubt that a guy like him, a small-town boy with the chance to get out for good, was a decent hook to hang the piece around. But it meant, of course, that I’d have to spend a whole lot of time with him in the coming weeks. Nice one, Emily, way to fuck the main subject of your article.
My pizza arrived, and I went ravenously to town, having been to wobbly to eat earlier in the day. I grabbed my laptop and stuck on a few episodes of whatever dumb sitcom I could find streaming, desperate to pull my mind off the situation for a while. But if I was nothing else, I was an overthinker- and soon I found myself going back to everything Sam had told me today.
I could see from the look in his eyes that this opportunity terrified him. Hell, I could see why- it would be scary to anybody. But the difference was that most people- well, most people that I knew, anyway- would suck up the fear and do it anyway. Hell, I had. The Soars were one of the biggest teams in the country- how they’d come to hear about a player in a smalltown team like the Kingstown Crows was beyond me, but they had, and it wasn’t the sort of thing that happened every day. Sam needed to jump on the opportunity, and soon.
I cleared out my bed, sticking the leftover pizza in the refrigerator before curling back up in bed and looking through all the notes I’d made over the last couple of days. Was there another angle I could approach this story at? I knew it would be hard getting any of them to talk- Johnson obviously didn’t intend for me to know, and I wasn’t sure any of the rest of the team knew anything that was going on. That just left Sam- and Sam himself seemed scared even just talking about the proposition, as if even considering it too deeply might force him to make a decision. Grabbing my Dictaphone, I began to go through some of my recordings and transcribing them.
As I listened and typed, I began to feel a creeping sense of recognition. Sam’s story- it was the same as mine, in a way. He had this opportunity halfway across the country and it was down to him to take it or not; no-one would know (or would have known, barring my article) if he said no, and if he said yes, well, great celebration as he took this brave next step. It wa strange to me, considering the idea that someone might be handed an opportunity like this and think twice. Maybe I could find some way to relate to him based on what I’d been through? I needed to find a happy medium between getting him close and not scaring him off because he thought I was trying to pursue something more serious.
I grabbed my phone, and weighed it in my hand for a second or two; Johnson had given me his number. He’d been a great help with the story, but I had the feeling he didn’t want me to know about this. I wondered how he felt about Sam’s offer- did he want the best for him, or did he want him to stay and drag the Crows out of the lower leagues and towards something more concrete? He hadn’t mentioned it to me, which made me think he was leaning towards the former. I dialled his number before I had the chance to back out, and held the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” He answered after a ring or two, sounding confused.
“Hey, it’s Emily,” I greeted him. “I was wondering if you had Sam’s number?”
“Uh, yeah,” He rustled around, sounding distracted. Then, he seemed to register what I’d said.
“Why?”
“I want to meet up with him outside training,” I replied, and he paused for a moment; I knew what he was thinking, that I’d already done a lot more than meet with him. But I wanted to get this story rolling while he was still open with me, while he was still vulnerable. Yes, it was harsh, but I needed it now.
“Sure thing,” he replied, and reeled me off his number. I typed it into my phone, thanked him, and hung up; okay, time to make this happen. I called the number Johnson gave me, and the phone rang for almost thirty full seconds before Sam picked up; I was on the brink of abandoning the call before I heard his voice, distant and echoey, down the line.
“Um, hello?”
“It’s Emily,” I jumped straight in. “What are you up to right now?”
“I’m at some family thing,” he replied with a sigh. I felt a twinge of sadness when I remembered how far away my own parents were- then thankfulness when I recalled what they’d have had to say about my current state.
“Oh, sorry to disturb you-“ I prepared to hang up, but he spoke again.
“If you’re offering me a way out, I’ll take it,” he promised, turning away from the clatter and chat in the background of the call.
“Then I guess I am,” I leaned back on the bed and grinned. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Anywhere but the bar?” He suggested.
“Your call,” I responded, already reaching for my clothes.
“There’s a coffee place not far from yours, it’s open late-see you there in half an hour?”
“Sure thing,” I agreed, pulling on my pants and getting to my feet.
“See you soon.”
He hung up, and I scrambled to grab my Dictaphone. Now I just had to figure out how to get him to see my side of the story- and get the best possible hook for my article in return.
Chapter Eight
As I made my way across down, I flexed my fingers against the wheel and let out a small sigh of relief. Jesus, thank God I was out of there.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family. It was just that sometimes I found it quite hard to like them. I know everybody feels the same way once in a while, but with my parents, it was getting harder and harder to keep the happy face on for prolonged periods of time.
As soon as I was through the door, Mom had been on my back about how training was going, where the team was playing next, and whether or not I’d gotten the pay rise she had insisted I ask for since last time we saw each other. I knew it came from a good place, but none of this had been relevant before I started hitting the big time; in fact, I could still remember the looks of their faces when I told them that I wasn’t going to go to college.
“And how long will you be dedicating to this…hockey stuff?” Dad furrowed his brow, taking Mom’s hand comfortingly. He hadn’t been to see one of my games at that point, and it would be another year and a half before he turned out to the stadium to watch me play.
“As long as it takes,” I shrugged. “I know it seems crazy, but-“
“Think of everything you could be doing with your life!” Mom exclaimed, cutting me off- she had always been the more emotional of the two of them. “You could be…God, you could be travelling the world. Getting a good job. Meeting a nice girl…”
“I can still do all of those things,” I reminded her gently. “I just want to try out this hockey stuff first. See how far I can go.”
“And what kind of prospects would you have for your career if you stayed there? At the Ravens?” Dad pressed, leaning forward.
“The Crows,” I corrected him. “I don’t know, but I want to give it a try. Coach says I’m good enough to make a career out of it, if I want to,
so-“
“And what would he know?” Mom snapped. “He’s been at that place for years and he hasn’t exactly made anything of himself.”
“We’re doing better than we have done in a long time!” I protested. “Please, I’m not asking for money, or-“
“You best not be,” Dad shot back sharply. “Because we’re not paying for you when all of this goes up in smoke. You going to get another job to support yourself while you’re at it?”
“I won’t have time,” I shook my head. “But I won’t need one-“
“They’re barely paying you enough to live under our roof, let alone one of your own,” Mom replied tersely. “You can’t stay here forever, Sam.”
“I don’t want to!” I narrowed my eyes without thinking, my back already up at their comments. Mom raised her brows at me, and I knew I’d overstepped the mark.
“Well, then, maybe you should go,” She nodded to the door. “If you’re so certain you can make it with all this hockey stuff.”
“I’m not certain,” I admitted. “But I want to try.”
“Fine,” Dad held his hands up. “But don’t come crawling to us when this doesn’t work out for you, you hear?”
I moved out later that week, on to the couch of one of my teammates- it would be a few months before I could afford a bed of my own. Things cooled down after a while, but even now, my parents didn’t seem to regard my hockey as anything other than a hobby that had vastly overstayed it’s welcome. And yet, I knew they loved having a son who was so well-known about town- and that was what annoyed me the most. They wanted me as a trophy and nothing more, and I had to admit, it was getting harder and harder to pretend like I didn’t notice.
I made my excuses and left right after I got the phone call from Emily; it wasn’t exactly a vastly preferable alternative, but it would do for now. After a few minutes, I drew up to a halt outside the coffee shop, and spotted Emily nursing a coffee through the window. She glanced up, and when she laid eyes on me, offered me a small wave.
