“So?” Katella asked once Seraphina took her seat. “What’d you do?”
“I decided to pull Thorpe,” Seraphina said, “but for whatever reason, I really don’t feel good about it.”
“That’s not a good sign,” Katella murmured. Katella and her signs. But even Seraphina agreed that she probably shouldn’t be feeling this. But she couldn’t do anything about it now. Instead, she leaned back, tried to get comfortable, and opted to see how the second period went.
It didn’t go well.
Poor Sam Miller surely had heart, but he wasn’t as experienced as Brandon Thorpe was, and Miller’s nervousness at suddenly being thrust into the spotlight with an enormous amount of pressure on him. Because even though it wasn’t the actual season, he heard the audience booing which meant he had to step it up or else it’d be easier to start booing him too. And while they didn’t actually boo him, they weren’t really cheering for him either. Due to the fact that he let in four goals, two of which happened to be power play goals.
Seraphina watched as Matt Peters got into another fight, and then, twelve minutes later, the rookie defenseman Michael Thompson got into a fight which prompted Phoenix getting the second power play. Thompson definitely needed to build up some more muscle on his lithe frame, but he was tall, at six foot one, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. He seemed green, having skipped the American Hockey League thanks to her grandfather wanting to sign him after watching him play for a local league, but he was fast and an amazing defenseman. And he was only eighteen. At least that was what Katella had informed her in the two minutes he had to sit out for the fight.
“They probably took a shot at his inexperience,” Katella guessed.
On the bright side, Alec Schumacher managed to score a goal a minute after Phoenix scored for the second time. But thanks to Mike’s fight, the team seemed to burn out and it wasn’t long before Phoenix was in the lead, four to one.
Throughout the period, Seraphina’s eyes drifted down to where Brandon Thorpe was. Even though she didn’t know him that well, she could tell just how upset he was. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were colder than they normally were, but he still looked passive, like even though he was upset, it still didn’t bother him that he should be playing and he wasn’t. That even Seraphina Hanson gave in and persecuted him despite saying that she believed he didn’t do it.
By the time the second period ended, she could tell the players looked dejected and hopeless. Thorpe’s shoulders were the only ones that weren’t sagging as they headed into the locker room, and Seraphina wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t played and therefore wasn’t tired or if he was just completely upset that it was impossible for him to loosen up a bit.
This couldn’t go on.
Sure, the crowd hadn’t really booed – save for the penalties the refs called against the Gulls, but that was only to be expected – up until the buzzer rang, ending the second period, and the scoreboard reading four to one, with Phoenix in the lead.
“I made the wrong decision,” Seraphina said, along with the buzzer’s mocking tone.
“You didn’t have a choice, Sera,” Katella said, reaching out to squeeze her sister’s hand. “But you can make it right.”
“That’d be like admitting I made a mistake,” Seraphina said, turning to Katella. “Didn’t Papa make a decision and see it through, no matter what?”
“Yeah, but when Papa made the wrong decision, he always took responsibility for that decision and he always corrected it.” Katella squeezed Seraphina’s hand again, as though she were silently telling her sister what Seraphina might want to consider doing, and raised her brow in order to emphasize her point.
Sighing through her nose, Seraphina stood up. “I have to make this right,” she said more to herself than to her sister, and without another word, headed back down to the staircase and then into the Gulls’ hallway.
Each footstep she took heading to the locker caused her to get more and more furious. Furious with the fans for being so judgmental and hypocritical. Furious with the players for giving up on themselves. Furious with Thorpe for being so calm in such a tense situation (although that degree of anger probably stemmed from a slight touch of envy which Seraphina would never admit aloud). But more than all of that, Seraphina was furious at herself. How could so easily let the fans’ reactions sway her decision? How could she lose her resolve because she was afraid of what people would think of her? Because that was why she pulled Thorpe. Yes, she honestly believed it might help the franchise, and without the fans, there was no way a team could thrive. But Seraphina was worried that this first major decision that she had to make in regards to her team – her team – would ultimately be like a first impression, one that people would associate her with for the rest of her life.
And even though she did what she thought people would think was right, she made the wrong one. Which meant she made the wrong decision. But she could fix it. And yeah, people would probably think that she was some kind of flip-flopper, but right now, she was past the point of caring. She was going to make this right, and that was that.
Seraphina walked into the Gulls’ locker room. The different thoughts that probably should have run through her head such as maybe now wasn’t an appropriate time to give a pep talk and to apologize and perhaps it was even more inappropriate since she was a young woman going into a men’s locker room and her presence might make players uncomfortable, considering there might be things going on in there that she didn’t want to see or be exposed to, actually never even made it to her consciousness. Her mind was too focused, and she knew that until she got everything off of her chest, she would continue to brim with frustration.
People exclaimed, some called Seraphina out, but for the most part, the majority of the Gulls just stared at Seraphina as she pushed opened the doors and went over to Henry, who was in the middle of giving the players his own lecture. He stopped when he saw Seraphina, but he didn’t snap at her or admonish her for coming in. In fact, he cleared his throat and gave her the floor.
“Let me start off by saying that this, indirectly, is my fault,” she began. It was abrupt and straight to the point, because Seraphina couldn’t waste time with some flurry preamble. She couldn’t explain it, but even though she couldn’t see Brandon Thorpe, she could feel his eyes on her. “I decided Henry should pull Thorpe, and even though the fans seemed less upset now, the scoreboard says that we’re being fucked. You guys have given up. And the third period hasn’t even started yet.” She proceeded to look into an individual player’s eyes, hoping they would see that she meant what she said. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t let them dictate how you play. Don’t listen to them. Focus on the game, because even though this is a first game for preseason, I want us to play our absolute best whether that means we scrimmage or we play in the postseason. I have faith in you. All of you. Which means that Henry, if he feels it, will put in Thorpe.” Suddenly, Seraphina found him, sitting among his players on the bench. He actually looked surprised at what she said. “If I learned anything from my grandfather, it’s that we stick together, no matter what. People, even our fans, aren’t going to be happy with the decision. But I have faith in you. Now you guys need to have faith in your teammates and in yourselves.”
Suddenly, Seraphina realized she was out of breath. She paused in order to catch it, and when she realized she had nothing more to say, she proceeded to turn red. “Okay, that’s all,” she said. And with that, she rushed out as fast as she had entered.
“Well?” Katella asked once Seraphina sat back down.
“I fixed this,” she replied. “No matter what happens, I did the right thing. And that’s what matters.”
The third period wasn’t brilliant on the Gulls’ part. The Phoenix Panthers maintained their three goal lead and the fans booed more and more every time Thorpe made a save, and she royally fucked up by making that first decision, but it didn’t matter. Seraphina knew with every fiber in her being that she made th
e right decision in the end.
Maybe she would get the hang of this sooner or later.
Chapter 7
She had a half an hour before the game started. It was the second preseason game but Seraphina doubted there were more people at any of the previous preseasons before this one. More protestors lined up in front of Sea Side – security would ask them to leave ten minutes before the puck dropped - while more tickets were sold to people – To boo Thorpe? To see if she would play him tonight? She didn’t know, and really, it didn’t matter – and on top of all of that, the press was like a small gang, waiting to pounce on her and get her official statement.
Seraphina knew she would have to make one soon. She was surprised that she able to have avoided them such a long time, but she knew that a sneaky journalist would eventually corner her and she’d be pressured to tell them something, anything about her grandfather’s murder, the fact that Thorpe was still attached to the team despite a lack of contract and the fact that he was a suspect in the murder of Ken, or maybe her acquiring a team she had no idea how to run. But now, thanks to a particular article in today’s paper, she knew everyone would want to know what she thought about her uncle, Alan Brown, being the police’s prime suspect in her grandfather’s murder.
To be honest, Seraphina wouldn’t have even known such a thing if Katella hadn’t called her from work, ordering Seraphina to pick up The Orange County Register. There, splattered on the front page, was a picture of Alan himself underneath the headline Son Responsible? She had read the article at least four times in the safety of her grandfather’s – her – office, still not quite believing it. She hadn’t left the room since she had gotten there at just after nine in the morning except to ask one of the interns to pick her up a sandwich at Panera. The plan was for her to go through some paperwork that involved learning more about her players, their stats (and what those stats meant) in relation to their salaries, and any comments or observations on their attitudes. There was actually a stack of unopened folders on her desk, but before she could get any actual work done, her eyes always drifted to the paper and she was forced to read the article again, as if she was reminding herself that it was real. She was kind of upset that Detective Christopher Williams hadn’t called her or Katella and told either of them personally that he, along with the force, suspected her uncle, that she had to find out from a newspaper, but she couldn’t muster up the energy to get mad and call him to ask about it. She had other things she needed to worry about.
Like the fact that Alan might have killed Papa.
Despite the front page article and colored photo, the article itself was vague with actual information about why the police chose Alan, but Christopher Williams was quoted saying they had enough evidence to suspect him. What that evidence was, the journalist could only speculate, but apparently anonymous sources said that Alan was known for his unpredictable temper. A couple of witnesses said they saw Papa and Alan fighting a lot about the team. An ex-girlfriend of his claimed that he hit her when he was drunk. But nothing about why the cops actually believed Alan could have done it. Killed his father. Wasn’t that hearsay or something? Surely there was something else.
Seraphina didn’t exactly know what to believe. Alan never lost control of his temper when he was around Seraphina. At least, she didn’t remember him doing so. He would get terse with her and he yelled at her, but she never felt threatened by him. Maybe Katella experienced something different with him. She would ask her older sister later during the game.
But to kill Papa? Sure, Alan was greedy but Seraphina wasn’t sure if that greed could propel Alan to actually kill. But maybe. If these stories held a grain of truth. Was she being naïve in believing that this man, this man who had used her in the past in order to get on his father’s good side, wasn’t so greedy to murder? She wasn’t sure. But she liked to have faith in people no matter what, even though it burned her in the past.
Could possibly burn her now, what with her publicly backing Brandon Thorpe despite his suspicious relationship with her grandfather.
Instead of reading that article yet again, Seraphina turned to look the new picture sitting on the desk, the one she had placed there herself. It was one of the few changes she had made to the office once the police were through with it, but it was the same frame that had held the picture of her and her sister, before it was damaged in the struggle that took place before –
“How did you do this?” she whispered, her eyes studying the picture of her grandfather. It was a recent one taken only a couple of weeks before all these changes were forced to take place. He was smiling, wearing his sailor’s cap that seemed glued to the top of his head, and his blue eyes were twinkling mischievously as they always did. It reminded her of millions of memories, and even though her pain was raw and it brought tears to her eyes, it also gave her strength. As though he was here with her now, watching over her, guiding her. “Why did you choose me? I don’t know if I can really do this.”
The phrases were practically common now, a religious chant that came to her lips in time of stress. But instead of soothing her, it just added to the pile of stress already on her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be the carefree twenty-three-year old she had been in the past, but there was no way in hell she’d sell the team. Not to give Alan and Ryan a bout of money they did absolutely nothing for.
He obviously chose her for a reason. It was just in times like these ones she couldn’t help but wonder why.
Before she could shake her mind of these thoughts, the door knocked and without waiting for her answer, the person on the other side walked in. Seraphina felt herself straighten and her heart stopped.
Speak of the devil...
Alan was there, in front of her. How he got in the building and managed to avoid the press, Seraphina had no idea. But what she didn’t know even more was why he was here. Alan was tan thanks to his days surfing when he was younger, and while he was still handsome for being in his mid-fifties, his skin was wrinkled more so than it might have been. His chestnut brown hair maybe had three or four grey hairs in it, and his hazel eyes were covered by a pair of black sunglasses. He was wearing his typical Hawaiian shirt – this one brick red – and beige cargo shorts, and he smelled like strong cologne and cigarette smoke. From the way he carried his lithe, five foot eight frame, he either didn’t know the police suspected him for Papa’s murder or that such a claim didn’t get to him.
“Hello,” she said, drawing out the word slowly. She gestured at a seat and he took it. “Can I help you with anything?”
He didn’t say anything as he took off his shades and slipped them in his front pocket. When his hazel eyes locked with hers, Seraphina felt a shiver slide down her back. “Just wanted to check up on you,” he said. “See how everything’s doing. What a mob house out there, huh? Thank God I decided to pull around back. So.” He clapped his hands together before letting his wrists dangle off the armrests. “How are you handling everything? I’ve been reading the paper, watching the news... It’s hard, huh?”
Seraphina didn’t respond right away. He was here to see how things were going? That wasn’t Alan. Alan didn’t care about things that didn’t pertain to Alan. He didn’t drop by unless he wanted something.
“It’s more difficult than I imagined it would be,” Seraphina conceded, nodding her head once. Though her heart pumped blood through her body at an increased rate, alerting her subconscious that she was afraid of the situation she was currently, she forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. “But Papa chose me to run the team for a reason, and if he believed in me then there’s no reason why I shouldn’t believe in myself.” She felt her patience with him at that moment dissipate. “What do you want, Alan? I have a game that’s going to start in twenty minutes.”
“Let’s cut the shit, Sera,” Alan said, his voice abrupt and firm. It was complete unlike his charm voice that normally manipulated those that didn’t know who he really was. “After everything that happened
yesterday, we both know that you’re in way over your head. I came here to ask you to sell the team. I talked to Dad’s financial guy, Simon Spade, and he said that if we sell now, we would make more than if we waited until the season started. People are crucifying you, worried that you might be the worst thing that ever happened to the team.”
“Of course I am!” Seraphina exclaimed. She hadn’t meant to burst out with it, but she couldn’t help it. Her eyes filled up with tears and she knew her face was red with shame and anger, but besides that, she refused to let Alan see that she was just as worried if not more than him, or anyone else. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “The only other owner of this team was Papa. Nobody can compare to him. But I’m going to try. I’m not going to give up. And by the way, before you start criticizing me about being written up in the paper, you should probably know that the police have listed you as their number one suspect.”
“You know I would never hurt Papa,” Alan said, his voice rising, defensive. “You know that. All I’m trying to show you is that you’re twenty-three. You shouldn’t be stressed out over a goddamn hockey team. If you just sold it, you could retire a multi-millionaire. You’d never have to work again. Katella would never have to work again. Do you realize how long and hard people work in order to retire? And you could do it now. No one can take your effort away. You gave it your best. But you have no idea how to do this, and if you just sell everything, you’ll be set.”
“Unlike you, Alan, I want to do something with my life,” Seraphina snapped. She knew she didn’t sound collected and professional, but it was hard when her uncle was in front of her, attacking her. “Don’t tell me how I would never have to work again when, really, you never want to work again. Don’t bullshit me. That might have worked when I was younger but it won’t work on me now. I know this may be hard for you to grasp, but I want to change the world. I want to do something to change the world. And maybe, maybe this won’t change the world. In all likelihood, it won’t. But it’s already changed my world. It’s already made a difference in my life. So no. I’m not going to sell the team. Please stop telling and asking me to because it’s not going to happen.” With that, she stood, grabbing the hemline of her shirt and pulling it down. She needed something to do with her shaking hands. “Don’t come here again. I know we’re supposed to be family but I don’t want to see you again. If you do come here, I’ll have security refuse you at the door. So go away and be happy with your hundred thousand dollars. You should be lucky you even got that.”
Blood on the Rocks: A Slapshot Prequel (A Slapshot Prequel Trilogy Book 1) Page 6
