“Before I introduce the ten new members of this team, I want to reassure the season ticket holders that last season was not something we’re proud of. Here at the Gulls’ organization, excellence is something we strive for because we know our fans expect it. Which they should. My grandfather’s team will not be remembered for falling apart now that he’s no longer here. I promise you that. I know I, along with every single person involved in some way, need to win your trust back. I will. We all will. Because you are important to us.”
Seraphina glanced to her right where Harper noticed the coach and his team of assistant coaches. They stood there, all at varying heights, half of them with bushy mustaches, in white polo shirts with the Gulls' logo stitched to the left side of the shirt. They looked very uniform for simply being coaches, with brown belts and pressed khaki pants. At least they weren't wearing shorts. Seraphina didn't understand shorts at ice rinks. She didn't care how hot it was outside, it was a big fashion no - whether you were male or female.
She introduced each coach individually. With Henry Wayne retiring last year, Seraphina had to find a suitable replacement for him and his team. Luckily, Neil Cherney - a veteran player and former Seattle Raptors coach - was available and Seraphina swooped him up as soon as she could. It was one of her first moves in the off-season and one of the smartest. Cherney's record spoke for itself, though he was still underestimated in the league - first as a player and subsequently as a coach.
Once the coaches were through, Seraphina stepped back to the podium. "Now," she said, looking out at the media, "as I'm sure you know, we've acquired at least ten new players, some veterans of the league, some rookies, and we've brought some of our prospects up from San Diego to train with us and get a shot at making the final roster of the team. I'm going to introduce you to each one of them, starting with center Zachary Ryan."
Harper could feel the men around her tense and the photographers get in position, ready to take pictures. This was the moment they had been waiting for. There was a collective hush; everyone was holding their breath.
At that moment, he walked out, all six foot four of him. He was pure muscle and broad shoulders all compiled in a lean package. He had sandy blonde hair, short so nothing could fall in his face and inhibit his vision. He had crystal blue eyes and sharp facial features - high cheekbones, a strong jaw - and had a roughness about him that made him look more scruffy than handsome. But still handsome. He was wearing a polo with the Gulls' logo on it as well, but his was a sky blue, emphasizing his eyes even more than they already were, and dark blue jeans that fit him in all the right places. On his feet were a pair of expensive flip flops. He walked out of the Ice Palace with his chin up, his lips curled into a smirk. He walked with a confident swagger but he didn't come across as too arrogant.
When he got to the podium, he leaned against the surface and tilted his head down so his lips were close to the microphone.
"Hi," he said. His voice is low and masculine. "I'm Zach. I'm really happy to be here. I look forward to playing for the Gulls and start a new chapter in my career."
That was it. He straightened up as hands shot up to ask him questions. Harper kept hers to herself for now. She liked to wait and see what would be asked, how questions would be answered. He had a slight Canadian twang that she found she liked.
However, there was an arrogance in everything he did, an arrogance she wasn't sure how she felt about just yet. It could be either charming or frustrating. It could be both.
"Why did you choose the Gulls over the other teams you sat down with?" one of the men asked.
"Well, the environment is appealing," Zach replied. Harper watched as he directed his gaze at the journalist who asked the question, his sky blue eyes crystal and direct. "Who doesn't want to play in sunny Southern California?" He dropped his hands from the podium in order to use them to gesture along with his words. "There's also not as much pressure here. Hockey's not a popular sport in general here so the team can actually be big fishes in small ponds."
"So you're saying hockey isn't popular in Southern California?" another journalist asked.
Zach furrowed his brow, turning his attention to the female reporter. "Yes," he said. "I am. Look at the statistics: USA Hockey has only 25,000 plus people registered to play out of a state of thirty-six million. Hockey here is definitely growing and those that are fans are ravenous. They're the best kind of fans because the appreciation and understanding is there. But I don't have to worry about people recognizing me at the mall. I know some of the guys have kids who go to school here and all they are to the teachers and other parents is Dad. It's not a bad thing, honestly. I prefer it. It's one of the reasons why I decided to come here."
"Is it true you cheated on Diana Platt with some of the Toronto Bangles players' wives?"
They weren't in a room per se but the tension was tight and suffocating. Harper didn't know much about Zachary Ryan but he did seem to have a temper - not a bad one, exactly, but he wasn't afraid to tell you what he felt at any given moment. He was one of the players who chirped at the refs if he thought the ref made a bad call and he was one of the few skilled players who wouldn't back down from a fight if confronted unless, of course, the player was trying to goad him into taking a penalty and getting him off the ice.
"Honestly, I don't understand how my personal life has any relevance to my skills as a hockey player," Zach said. His tone was clipped but not confrontational. Harper could respect that.
"Have you changed your off-season workout regime to fit with the Gulls’ expectations?"
Harper was already writing but she couldn't take her eyes off Zach. He was more attractive than she expected him to be, smarter as well. The question was inappropriate and completely out of line but he handled it somewhat professionally. She didn't know if she was going to ask a question. Right now, she wanted to get a read on him and see just the sort of man and player Zachary Ryan really was.
Chapter 3
Harper had never been a nightclub type girl. She wasn't one of those girls who needed an excuse to wear a tight dress or one of those girls who thought dancing fixed everything. If she was stressed or needed a release, she grabbed an Xbox controller and played the latest Call of Duty game. It kept her focused and thinking solely about her mission - blow as much up as possible - and let her escape from the world for a few hours.
That didn't mean she was a tomboy. Far from it. She loved shopping for dresses and had a subscription to Cosmo she read religiously. She had a few fashion blogs she followed and developed her style into something that represented who she was. She loved shoes like any woman, and her shoe collection filled more than half of the tiny closet in her one-bedroom apartment.
Dancing, however, was not something she was privy to. Her body was too awkward and she felt like a fool, like everyone could tell she was pretending to be this cool girl who danced at nightclubs. She didn't fit in and she didn't want to.
However, Seraphina needed a character piece written about Zachary Ryan. "Honestly, we need to make him likable," Seraphina had told her in that meeting. "I want fans to care about him, not just that he's a first line type of player."
Harper agreed and Seraphina promised Katella would officially introduce the two of them that evening at Taboo, a nightclub located in Costa Mesa the single hockey players liked to frequent on their off days and the summers. Seraphina wouldn't be attending because she didn't want to mix with her employees. Also, if any news outlets found out she was partying with the players, her reputation would be crucified. Harper didn't think it was fair but Seraphina didn't seem to mind in the slightest and wished Harper good luck.
Harper and Katella discussed semantics and came up with a plan that consisted of Harper picking Katella up from the home she shared with her younger sister and driving the two of them to the club together. Also, Harper offered to be Katella's designated driver should the twenty-seven-year old need to indulge in comfort drinks, considering she was still reeling from her breakup
a couple of months before. However, Katella offered to drive and said she didn't plan on drinking all that much, and before Harper was mentally ready for tonight, she found herself in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Mercedes-Benz.
Katella looked gorgeous. The Hanson sisters were known for both their brains and their beauty. Seraphina was more earthy, while Katella was more classic. Her strawberry blonde was swept up in a loose knot and her makeup was heavy without being overwhelming. She wore a ruched violet dress that was both short and low without being slutty. Her breasts were emphasized by the push-up bra, as were her long legs. In fact, if Harper had to guess, Katella knew exactly what to hide and what to show off. It was probably why the Gulls’ Girls - the National Hockey League's version of cheerleaders that swept the ice during the breaks throughout the games - were voted as the top choice amongst fans last year. Katella was their coach, their coordinator, and their designer. She knew what worked and what didn't.
In fact, as much as people criticized Seraphina, Katella was ripped the first few months after her grandfather's murder. Not only had she not inherited the team even though she was older by a year, she was dating one of the players openly and proudly. She had a public breakup and was partly blamed for the Gulls' terrible season. She was labeled as a curse and questions swirled about what was wrong with her that not even her grandfather would trust her with his team.
To be honest, Harper hadn't been sure what to expect when it came to Katella. She was preparing for someone a little more forward, a little less tactful, but so far, Katella was sweet and genuine, nothing like the papers made her out to be.
"Thanks for doing this," Katella said, finally breaking the ice and glancing at Harper from the corner of her eye. "I'm not really much of a club person either. But I help coordinate social excursions and team bonding sessions that correlate with social perception rather than the team bonding excursions the coach plans and is reserved for strictly the team. It's almost a requirement I show up."
"You don't like clubs?" Harper asked, her voice hesitating only slightly.
She watched as Katella's lip curled up but she kept her eyes focused on the road ahead of her. "I know that people think I'm the party girl because I'm basically the Gulls' event coordinator," she said and then snorted. "It doesn't bother me, how people perceive me. But to answer your question, no, I'm not a fan. I don't really drink. But I love dancing."
Harper smiled. "I hate it," she said, feeling herself relax in her seat. "I feel super awkward."
Katella laughed, nodding. "So do I," she said, "but being awkward is kind of fun."
By the time they reached the club, Harper had a newfound respect for Katella Hanson. And there was a good chance she might actually have fun tonight.
Taboo was a nightclub located in the heart of Costa Mesa's outdoor mall. It looked small on the outside but Harper was almost positive it would be much bigger and louder when they walked through. There was already a line waiting to get in even though it was just after ten, when the club opened. Harper didn't see any members of the team but she did notice some people in line shoot her and Katella dirty looks when they got to walk past the line and, after a quick search through their purses, allowed in without even paying the cover fee.
The music was loud and the dance floor was small. It was halfway filled already. The bar wrapped around the edge of the room, and the dance floor was dead center. Mainstream pop music remixed in with techno was currently thumping. Harper hated when they transformed a song she liked into something she didn’t, but decided to ignore the music as best as she could for now. Instead, she followed Katella past the dance floor, past the bar, through a small doorway that led to a quieter room only VIPs had access to. There was still music – a different song but the same style – but it was emptier, and there was a private bar in the corner. It also wasn’t standing room only. There were couches and comfortable chairs.
It was the first time Harper felt cool, which was dumb because Harper didn't care about being cool one way or the other. She was one of the least cool people she knew. But walking into the club in a tight dress and high heels next to Katella made her feel like a badass. It didn't hurt that the people waiting in line gave her dirty looks as they did so.
Once they were inside, the lights were dim except for mood lighting and strobe lights moving and flashing different colors in time with the beat. The dance floor was remarkably small filled with bodies pressing close together trying to dance. The bar was located in the back, closest to the elevated cup section of the club, which was packed with people trying to buy drinks.
Harper felt her heart seize with intimidation and she had to clutch her purse tighter to refrain from reaching up and putting her hands over her ears. She stayed close to Katella as she led the two to the VIP section of the club. They had to walk up a small flight of sleek back stairs that had no hand railings so Harper had to be careful in her heels to walk up them. There was a big bouncer in black clothes standing next to the stairs. He didn't even check Katella's id as she walked up the stairs. Maybe he would assist should someone need him to.
When they reached the top, the club suddenly turned into a lounge. Low red couches and chairs and sleek glass coffee tables. An even smaller dance floor that was only half-full. Girls dressed in even shorter dresses, younger than Harper was, dancing on laps and forcing smiles. The men watched with mild interest, more interested in conversations with each other rather than the girls. They're probably desensitized to it, honestly.
Katella made her way past three tables before reaching the back where half the hockey team sat in the corner. A few of them had girls with them but most did not. There were a few power players as well who lit up when they saw Katella. It might have been just Harper but a couple of them looked just as uncomfortable as she felt despite being in a profession that stigmatized them as mute, beautiful young women.
"Zach," Katella said. She didn't have to shout his name because the music wasn't as loud here. "This is Harper. She'll be doing the character piece on you Seraphina spoke to you about earlier."
His eyes picked up from his drink - a bottle of beer half drunk - and locked onto Harper. She felt her breath pause but she refused to look away from his penetrating stare.
"You were at the press conference," he said in a low tone. Somehow, Harper could hear his words even over the music. "I noticed you. You were the only person there in jeans."
Harper clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping. How did he know that? Did he really notice her among the crowd of people? And if so, how could he possibly notice that with everything going on? She had been watching him the whole time and it appeared as though he hadn't even looked her way. Maybe she was wrong. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his unnoticed scrutiny, either. Perhaps it was a good thing, though. Maybe he employed that talent on the ice.
He took a sip of his beer, looking away. He had a strong jawline and high cheekbones. Masculine. He wasn’t pretty but he was attractive in a rough sort of way. The only thing soft about him was his eyebrows, which arched naturally over his eyes. He had a very distinct look about him; it was hard to look away.
"I'm not really sure this is a good place to talk," he said, shifting his eyes back to her. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"
"I'm not going home with you!" She didn't know why she sounded so defensive. Even he seemed surprised by her outburst.
She pressed her lips together and looked away. How completely unprofessional. God, she had one chance to change the stereotype of particular female hockey fans where she genuinely cared about the sport and strategy rather than the attractiveness of the players and how to swindle them into marriage so her life would be set. The first words out of her mouth to Zachary Ryan was rejecting his possible advances. But the thing was, judging by the look on his face, that was not his intention. At all.
"Okay, well I'm glad we got that out of the way," he said. He tilted his head to the side and gave Harper a long look. "What would make you think yo
u're my type anyway? You aren't married."
Harper instinctively curled the fingers of her left hand into a fist. He picked up on the fact that she wore no wedding ring. He was perceptive. More so than she could ever have expected.
"You don't mean that." She didn't know why she was defending him from himself. Who was she? Some woman instructed to write about this player who broke contract and demanded to be traded after the Buffalos booed him - their own player - when he came into the ice because rumor has it he slept with his teammate's wife. Harper didn't really care about the truth of it but now she was curious. Zach never publically commented but the team seemed to completely isolate him and the fans seemed to hate him. But that didn't make the rumors true.
"How do you know?" he asked, genuinely curious with a hint of a challenge in his tone. "You don't know me."
"No," Harper agreed with a smile, "but it's my job to find out who you are."
Zach rolled his eyes, causing Harper to frown.
“Everyone has their perception of me,” he said before taking another swig of beer. “You heard the questions they threw at me. Not about my fifty-plus points, not about my sixty-seven percent win in the faceoff circle, not about my thirty plus goals per season in my eight-year career. It’s about my personal life.”
“Yeah, well, let’s write a different story,” Harper said. “I’m just trying to do my job and part of your job is dealing with the press. So.” She grabbed a small notepad from her clutch. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter 4
The night was manageable. Harper wouldn't necessarily call it fun but it was definitely enlightening. Zachary Ryan was as arrogant as she initially believed and then some. He oozed confidence and had no problem talking about what he was good at. What Harper found she liked about him was that he had no problem admitting what he needed to work on. He didn't check out all the girls that were clamoring for attention or an autograph though he didn't completely ignore them either. He answered her questions without preamble, direct and to the point. She started getting a better understanding of who he was and she found that she began to respect him, despite the rumors.
Exes and Goals: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 1) Page 2
