Exes & Goals
Book 1 of The Slapshot Series
Heather C. Myers
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
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Acknowledgments
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Chapter 1
The Newport Beach Seagulls sucked.
They used to have a legacy - no Stanley Cup yet - but they still had been a respectable team to play against. Once their founder, owner, and manager, Ken Brown, had been found murdered and one of his granddaughters inherited the team, everything fell apart. First, the captain - the one who happened to be dating Brown’s older granddaughter, Katella - broke up with Katella and demanded to be traded after their home opener. Second, their goalie - Brandon Thorpe - was a suspect in the murder. Finally, Seraphina Hanson's inexperience running a business let alone a hockey team became apparent to the point where most of the players who became free agents ended up signing with other teams for a pay cut simply because they wanted to be on a team that was not tainted with controversy. Also, they wanted an opportunity to actually win a Cup and they did not believe that was going to happen with the Gulls.
Things needed to change.
Seraphina had a lot on her plate and a season under her belt. If she wanted to build a contending team, she needed to start with drafting and signing players that would help her do that.
Even if one of those players was involved his own sort of controversy.
"Thank you for coming in today."
Harper Crawford sat in a plush office overlooking the Pacific Ocean. There were pictures in frames hanging throughout the room filled with family photos of sisters, of their grandfather, of their players. Even though Seraphina went to the University of California, Los Angeles and graduated cumme laude with a degree in Communication, her degree did not adorn one of the walls. It would not fit the sort of atmosphere she strived for when decorating her office - her grandfather's office.
Harper had never been in the office before. It was open, the desk made of glass so it was transparent. There was a thousand-dollar computer set up neatly on the surface with a tray filled with requests, memos, and paperwork. Her name plate with glass as well, with white loopy letters and the logo for the team engraved into the material. The chairs were the only dark furniture in the room - they were a black leather. Even the walls were white, making the office more open than it was. The carpet was a beige color. There was a red stain on it. Harper knew it was Ken Brown’s blood. This was where he was murdered by his accountant. A lot of people who went in and out of Seraphina's office thought it was morbid to keep a blood stain when the family had enough to replace the entire carpet should they want to. But Harper knew Seraphina well enough to know the youngest granddaughter wanted it there as a reminder that her grandfather spilled blood because of this team. That he had been there. That he was still there. As odd as it sounded, it relieved Seraphina to see it every day.
"Sure," Harper said, her elbows resting on the arms of the chair, looking at her friend with her head cocked to the side. "What's up?"
"We've known each other since college, right?" Seraphina asked.
Seraphina was beautiful in the way where she didn't know she was beautiful. She had wavy blonde hair and forest green eyes, with freckles splattered across her cheeks, giving the twenty-five-year old the look of youth rather than an experienced businesswoman. She wore a casual boyfriend shirt - this one maroon - tucked into a tight black high-waisted pencil skirt. On her feet, she wore shiny black four-inch heels with red soles. Her makeup was light but professional looking. It was weird - she was so different and yet exactly the same as the girl Harper knew from college.
She didn't know if the rumors regarding Seraphina and Brandon Thorpe - Newport Beach Seagull's starting goalie, Vezina-award nominee, and captain of the team - were true, that they were secretly dating, but if they were, Harper hoped he knew what a lucky man he was. Seraphina was sharp, educated, and familiar with the sport. If they weren't dating, Harper would be flummoxed. The two had chemistry and they seemed like they'd be a good match for each other. Seraphina had even come out, publically defending Thorpe when he became the primary suspect in her grandfather’s murder. She barely even knew the guy. Of course, the media ridiculed her, claiming it was because of a love affair rather than just standing behind her teammates. Showing a steady stream of support when they needed it most.
"Do you still run your blog?" Seraphina asked. "The one on sport's writing? I followed it for a while last year, when we went on that run of six straight in a row but I stopped after..." She let her voice trail off and Harper didn't have the heart to finish it for her.
After they went on their subsequent losing streak, which lasted eight in a row, dropping them from a shaky .500 average to a .430 and crushing any hopes of making it to the playoffs as a wildcard. Not only that, they lost Fan Appreciation Night, which occurred as the last home game of every season.
The Newport Beach Seagulls sucked, but somehow, they always won Fan Appreciation Night.
Of course, the media ripped Seraphina for that one as well. Like it was her fault. And maybe, in part, it was.
Then, half the team left in the off-season, a couple of players retired, and she was scrambling to fill the holes. And she did. From what was being reported, she surprisingly acquired a decent team, at least on paper. It would be a different story to see if they actually had the chemistry to be a Stanley Cup Contender.
"I do," Harper replied. "I wouldn't necessarily say it's a sport's blog since it focuses on hockey but it does teach sport writing in generic terms."
"I want to hire you," Seraphina said, blindsiding Harper. But that was Seraphina for you; she was good at getting right to the point. "We've never had an official team blogger and God forbid someone actually wrote for the team rather than against us." She rolled her green eyes and the gesture made her look younger than her twenty-five years, which was saying something. "I can pay you a decent salary and you'll get benefits as well. Travel, hotels, all of that will be paid for. I just need you to write for the Gulls, about them. I don't want you coming across like a homer. I want you to be critical but I want you to always have our back, whether you're writing a character piece on a new player, a team practice, a community outreach event, you know."
"Wait," Harper said, blinking. The words hadn't sunk in yet. "You're going to give me a salary to write abo
ut the Gulls?"
"Yes," Seraphina said with a professional nod. "Of course, you won't just be writing about them. You'll be traveling with the team when they go on road games, you'll attend all of our community outreach events. You might be partnered with a couple of players throughout the year to write character pieces on them as well as the coaching staff. Think about it like you're going to keep a diary for the team as a whole. You're going to track where we started from and show how much we've grown. You're going to help keep track of all of our mistakes. You absolutely can offer solutions to those mistakes or you can interview coaches and players for their opinions. You'll be more than a blogger. You'll be like a record specialist for us."
"That sounds amazing," Harper began but caught herself. Her eyes dropped to her lap and she began to tug on her index fingers. "It's just..." She let her voice trail off and picked her eyes up so she could lock eyes with Seraphina. "I take care of my grandma. She lives by herself for now but I don't know how it's going to be if I'm traveling with the team."
Seraphina nodded, pressing her lips together. "So," she said after a moment of pensive thinking, "what you're saying is that she's your dependent?"
Harper tilted her head to the side. "I guess so," she said. "I take care of her every day, sorting her medication, taking her to her doctor's appointments, and run errands for her. I'm just worried if I'm gone for a week or two because of the road trips, something might happen. She'll take the wrong pill, she won't have food..." She let her voice trail off and gave Seraphina a sardonic smile. "I'm probably just overthinking things."
"Not at all," she replied. "I completely understand. Not that I had to take care of my grandfather by any stretch, but I completely get worrying about them and feeling responsible for their well-being." She crossed her arms over her chest but it wasn't a defensive gesture. "Would your grandmother feel comfortable if one of our on-call nurses checked in with her daily while you're gone?"
Harper's brow pushed up. She couldn't believe Seraphina was offering that. It meant more to her than she realized and she didn't know how to put into words the appreciation she was feeling toward the owner at that moment. That didn't mean her grandmother would be okay with a stranger taking care of her, of course, but it was something they might be able to work with if her grandmother was willing to get on the same page as her.
"I." Harper closed her mouth. She felt like a fish on land, trying to suck in air. "Yeah, I mean, I can ask her. I'm not sure how she'll feel about it but I'd be grateful for the opportunity."
"Of course," Seraphina said. "We would love to have you on the team."
Harper smiled because she wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
“Do you have any questions for me?" Seraphina asked. Her voice was direct but warm, the type of voice that encouraged honesty.
Harper nodded. "Yeah, actually," she said. "What kind if pieces do you expect from me? Fluff pieces? Pieces that are notoriously bias toward the team?” She paused, hesitating only for a second. "I write hockey on my blog but I can be brutally honest about a team's performance."
"Trust me," Seraphina said with a grin. "I'm well aware of your honesty. I read what you wrote about our last season. It's exactly why I reached out to you, to be honest. As a woman and owner of a sports franchise, I'm tired of being the subject of fashion and diet articles, gossip about me saying a member of my team, and the fact that I don't know anything about hockey. Obviously you're not going to be writing about me, but when you did write about me, you didn't write about any of that. You wrote about everything as it directly related to hockey. And when we sucked - which we did the majority of the time - not only did you write about how we sucked, you offered solutions to our problems. I credit you to some of the changes I'm making around here, including creating this position. You're the only one I want for it." She leaned back in her chair. "So, to answer your question, I want you to write it all, as long as it's honest. I'll be giving you the majority of your assignments but if there's a topic or a player or something relating to the Seagulls that you want to run with, do it. I trust you."
Harper felt her lips curve into a smile and she nodded her head. "I can work with that," she said. "I appreciate the freedom."
"So is that a tentative acceptance contingent on your grandmother's approval?" Seraphina asked, her green eyes big and bright.
"Absolutely," Harper said.
Seraphina beamed, her entire face mirroring sunshine. She stuck out her hand and Harper leaned forward to shake it.
"Talk it over with your grandmother," Seraphina said. "Let's meet tomorrow after the press conference so you can sign paperwork and we can talk about your first assignment. I'll email you details about our medical benefits and the different options you qualify for. If everything is good and done, you'll start tomorrow. How does that sound?"
"Fabulous," Harper says, standing.
"Great." Seraphina stood as well. "I'm sure you heard but tomorrow I'm hosting a press conference in the parking lot here. I'll be introducing the new players and coaching staff. I want you to come."
"Absolutely."
Harper gave her new boss one last smile before turning and heading out of the office.
So this was what it felt like to walk on air.
Chapter 2
It was the perfect day for a press conference. Summer in Newport Beach was warm with a cool sea breeze keeping things from being too unbearable. If Harper closed her eyes and focused, she could hear the nearby ocean crashing into the shore. As it was, there a group of fifteen people, representing the media that permeated the National Hockey League, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for Seraphina to make her announcement. The majority of the media were local - the Gulls didn't get a lot of national and international attention simply because they were still the newest team in the league and their play hadn't resulted in a playoff berth just yet. Also, the team could not seem to win more than half of their eighty-two games. They always fell short of a .500 season, which was laughable. Brandon Thorpe, the team's new captain and starting goalie, was the only reason why they were as competitive as they were.
Of course, the media had no problem devouring Seraphina in the news, calling her incompetent, a spoiled rich girl who had no idea how to manage a hockey team, and an embarrassment to the league. They had no issue resorting to blatant sexism, questioning her choice in clothing, reporting on her weight and hair styles, and even suggesting that women weren't as comparable in a position of power in a sports profession. It was absolutely infuriating.
As a writer of her sports blog, Harper decided had to write pieces about the coverage of Seraphina Hanson rather than the hockey team. Now, with Seraphina's job offer, Harper could still pretty much write whatever she wanted. And nothing would censor her unless it came directly from Seraphina herself.
Currently, Harper was seated in the third row of the five rows of white chairs put out specifically for the media. She had her recorder in the seat next to her, a pen in her left hand, and her notebook in her lap. She liked to take notes on top of recording because she could not predict when inspiration would strike and she always liked to be prepared. The press conference took place in the parking lot of Sea Side Ice Palace, the same arena where the Gulls played their games and practiced. It was unheard of, but Ken Brown also had public skating times and youth leagues that participated here as well. There were three rinks in the building total; the practice rinks were smaller and off in the back. There was even a special entrance for participants in the youth leagues so they felt like actual NHL players. Seraphina kept the tradition.
The lot was blocked off so the public could not enter, at least not during the press conference. As such, the number of cars in the lot were few and far between.
There was a simple podium that stood in front of the rows of chairs with a microphone already turned on and in position.
Harper glanced at her watch. Only a few more minutes.
Seraphina Hanson was always on time.
Harper felt her heart start to thump against the inside of her chest like pebbles skipping across the surface of the ocean. Her hand started to tap the end of the pen against her notebook in anticipation.
And then, Seraphina walked out of the building, her shoulders rolled back, her head held high. She looked like a supermodel walking down the runway. Her hair billowed around her like a lion's mane and she walked with a swagger that could only be attributed to the jungle cat. All eyes were on her; people here were quick to criticize her, crucify her in their articles, but they were as in awe of her as Harper was. She wore a professional pantsuit with high heels - a white blouse that dipped low but not low enough to be deemed as inappropriate and grey slacks that clung to her curves before dropping to her ankles. On her feet were a pair of sleek black ankle boots.
When she got to the podium, she placed her hands on the edges and shot everyone a smile. Everyone quieted on their own; she didn't need to ask for their attention.
"Thank you," she said into the small black microphone, "for being here. We have a lot of ground to cover today, and I appreciate the fact that you're here to share all of this good news with me. As you know, we're taking the Gulls' in a new direction. We have some of our core key players but the majority of our team is new. Fresh. I'm hoping - we are all hoping - that this change will transform our team from abysmal to worthy."
Harper's eyes widened. Seraphina had called out her team's shortcomings without apology. It was rare for an owner, a general manager - hell, even a coach - to be so vocal regarding their team's struggles.
"Every year, we have fans that make a commitment to our team by purchasing season tickets," Seraphina continued. Harper had no idea how she was able to retain all of this information without needing flashcards. "We, in turn, make a commitment to play hard, play fast, and play on, regardless of the circumstances. We can't promise a win but we can promise effort. We can promise heart." She paused, letting her words hang in the air. Then, "Last year, we failed to honor our commitment to the fans. Which is why we decided to make some changes around here.
Exes and Goals: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 1) Page 1
