Charm on the Rocks: A Slapshot Prequel (Slapshot Prequel Trilogy Book 3)

by Heather C. Myers

  There was no sparkle in those midnight blue eyes. In fact, they looked almost black. His padding wasn’t on, and as a result, Madison could clearly see the tension in Alec’s upper body. His chin was tucked down, his hands controlled and down by his sides. She had to reach out in order to touch him, to grab him. His lips were pressed in a thin line, curled down. There was no charming compliment coming from his lips, no smartass retort about her touching him. In fact, Madison had never seen him look so... furious before. She immediately released him, afraid to send him over the edge, something he looked close to teetering over.

  “Sorry.” His voice was tight but gentle. Madison watched as he blinked once, twice, and then looked down at the arm Madison had so recently been holding on to. It appeared as though he had been in some kind of trance. He wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and led her down a vacant hallway. No one could see them, but they could certainly here the ruckus nearby.

  “What was that?” he asked once he double-checked that they were alone.

  At least he sounded more like him.

  “Um,” Madison murmured under her breath. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen it so crowded down here.”

  “Yeah, it’s the press,” he told her. “Coach wanted to call a quick press conference before the game in order to answer a few questions. But a few questions turned into more than a few questions and now instead of asking questions, they’re demanding answers. Not just from Coach, but from Stable – he’s our assistant coach – and even going after some of the players, too. I think three different journalists came up to me until they figured I wasn’t going to say anything. Coach is pissed and is calling security as we speak since a lot of these guys won’t leave.”

  “I still don’t understand.” Madison was trying to be patient. Really, she was, but Alec had yet to answer just why the press was here in the first place. It was only a preseason game; the Gulls were lucky to get written up by the weekly, local Newport Beach paper. This was madness.

  “It’s Brandon,” Alec said. “The police showed up at his house this morning for questioning.”

  “They arrested him?” Madison was surprised. What possible evidence could the police have on Brandon Thorpe?

  “No, just took him in for questioning,” Alec repeated. “But a couple of people from the media were hanging out in front of Brandon’s home and saw the cops come up. It wasn’t long before the story broke on the news, and everyone even associated with the team was swarmed with microphones in their faces wanting to know what we think about Brandon as a suspect and all that shit.”

  He clenched his jaw. Madison hadn’t heard him swear before; interestingly enough, it sounded wrong, coming from his mouth.

  “Coach wanted to cut the shit, you know? Basically tell everyone that, yeah, Brandon was brought in for questioning but he wasn’t arrested, and yes, he’d be missing tonight’s game but when he was released from custody, he’d start playing again. He wanted to convey that we all stood behind Brandon, everyone from the players, to Coach, even to Seraphina Hanson, the owner. But the media just got out of control.”

  “Oh my God,” Madison said. No wonder Alec looked so tense; it was like he was carrying this load on his shoulders by himself. For whatever reason, Alec seemed to be taking this personally, as though it was Alec’s fault that Brandon was being questioned. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Do you want to grab a drink after the game?”

  Again, no flattery, no arrogant retort. In fact, Alec looked almost offended at the suggestion.

  “I don’t drink during the season,” he snapped.

  The harsh tone coming out of Alec’s lips caused Madison to jump. This was not the Alec she knew, even though she really didn’t know a lot about Alec Schumacher. And she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about this new Alec. He didn’t scare her, exactly, and it was interesting to see he wasn’t all about getting laid and playing hockey. But that didn’t mean she understood where all this angst was coming from, especially since it was so unexpected coming from Alec.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his face softening. He reached up to place his hand on the back of his neck, looking suddenly uncomfortable, as though even he didn’t know why he was upset. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just...” He looked away, unable to meet Madison’s eyes. “Look, Brandon’s not a very social guy. He doesn’t really hang out with us when we go out to do things. I couldn’t tell you his favorite sport outside of hockey, his favorite food, or if he’s dating anyone at the moment. But he’s still a Gull. He wears the same jersey as I do. He’s my teammate. And the way the fans have been booing him and the media’s been hounding him, it’s not right.”

  Madison felt herself release a sigh through her nose. If she was being honest, she found Alec’s loyalty to his teammate admirable. It rounded out the edges to him, so to speak. But that still didn’t explain why Alec took this burden in the first place. He wasn’t directly involved in Ken’s murder and he wasn’t friends with Brandon, either. Madison felt that he might be stressing out about things beyond his control, something pointless. The guy couldn’t be responsible for everything even if he wanted to be.

  “Do you... think that maybe...” Madison wasn’t sure if this was appropriate, if she should ask him this since he seemed so invested. But she was curious. And maybe talking about it might help him feel a little bit better. “Do you think Brandon did it?”

  Alec looked at Madison, but instead of snapping at her, he dropped his arm back to his side. “No, I don’t.” She believed him, too. “Brandon’s probably one of the most offensive goalies in the league, but there’s no way he killed Ken. Everybody respected Ken. Everybody on the team, everybody who worked for him. The guy could be a hardass, but that was just one of the reasons why the entire league admired him. I mean, he started this team. He built this club from the ground up. He is the reason the Gulls exist in the first place. And he took that team and made it into what it is today.”

  Madison felt herself smiling. “You seem to have a lot of passion for the sport,” she observed.

  “I am,” he agreed with a curt nod of his head. If his hair hadn’t been gelled back in preparation for the game, she was certain the dirty blond locks would have fallen into his face and those midnight blue eyes. “You know, I think this is the first actual conversation you and I have had.”

  And there it was, that charm smile, slithering out onto his face in order to replace his trademark sparkle back into his eyes. He returned to the Alec she was accustomed to, but Madison did notice that his shoulders were still tense. The burden was there. It would seem that there was more to Alec Schumacher than Madison initially believed.

  “And,” he continued in a playful voice, “once the season is over, I would be happy to take you up on your offer for a drink. In fact, since I like you so much, I’ll even buy you dinner, too.”

  “And he’s back,” Madison murmured under her breath, trying to mask an amused grin. “Such a gentleman.” She reached out to touch his forearm once again, her eyes pooling into his. For whatever reason, she wanted to make sure that he knew that what she was about to say was genuine. He didn’t tense when she touched him; he reacted as though it was natural that Madison would touch him. “Good luck tonight.”

  He smiled – minus the arrogant sprinkles that usually emphasized it – and nodded again as Madison dropped her hand. “Thank you,” he said.

  Madison walked out of the hallway and managed to squeeze her way through the crowd. Even though security was currently ushering out the determined journalists, photographers, and cameramen, they were shouting out questions, sticking out microphones to whomever they encountered, and resisted the mandated exit as much as possible. She managed to squeeze into the female locker room without being noticed, and found the majority of her team positioned in a semi-circle in front of Lara.

  “Okay,” Lara said in a quiet voice and then marked something on the clipboard she carried with her. “Just waiting for two more...”
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br />   Madison furrowed her brow as she went over to stand next to Amanda. “What’s going on?” she whispered. “I mean, I know what’s going on out there but what’s going on in here? Why aren’t we changing?”

  Amanda shrugged. “Honestly, I have no clue,” she replied. “Obviously this whole Brandon Thorpe thing has sent everybody into a tizzy, so Lara’s probably going to make some kind of announcement.” She looked around and then, in an even lower whisper, said, “This is going to sound silly, but...” She swallowed. “Is it just me or do you feel intimidated? Like something bad might actually happen. I don’t mean someone’s going to kill me, but with all these people protesting, and with how crazy the press is getting, and this whole Brandon Thorpe thing, I just feel... Kind of scared.”

  Madison paused, unsure of how to proceed. It wasn’t until Amanda had mentioned it that she realized something like getting injured – whether it was on purpose or accidental – was an actual possibility, and she didn’t know how she felt about it. Sure, she remembered seeing people react to the news of Kobe Bryant’s alleged rape trial on the news, but South Haven, Michigan didn’t really produce Lakers fans and she thought that maybe people were blowing things out of proportion on both sides. To be honest, she didn’t actually think people reacted like that in real life.

  But this was as real as real could get. This was her life. And there was a very good possibility that a riot could break out.

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” she managed to say, wrapping her arm around Amanda’s shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Yeah, things are pretty crazy right now but it’ll be all right. We’re not going to get hurt or injured or anything, except maybe the occasional bump. Okay?”

  Amanda nodded, but it took a moment before she was able to say, “Distract me.”

  Madison thought for a minute. What would adequately distract Amanda from worrying her pretty, Orange County-bred mind from getting bruised by a rather rambunctious crowd? And then it came to her, as fast as lightning striking metal.

  “I had social psychology today and you know what that means...” Madison tried to raise her eyebrows suggestively but from the way Amanda was now laughing at her, she felt that perhaps she looked constipated instead. “Brady. And he sat down next to me. Again.”

  “Oooh!” Amanda exclaimed. It was like flipping a light switch; she completely forgot that she was scared and her entire face beamed.

  Boys. Amanda’s trigger was boys. Madison wasn’t all that surprised.

  “Dish!” she continued.

  “First, tell me why we aren’t changing right now,” Madison asked, looking around. Sure enough, the other Girls were still in their street clothes, confused stares touching their faces as though they, too, had no idea what was going on.

  “Lara wants everyone here before she makes some kind of announcement,” Amanda replied. “Probably about Brandon Thorpe. And then we’ll change. I think we’re waiting for two more Girls. Anyway, who cares about the right now? Tell me what went on with Brady.”

  In all honesty, there was really nothing to tell. The two students had just shared a conversation about criminal trials and how Madison was certain that good looking defendants got acquitted than defendants that were unattractive. But Brady pointed out that looks only helped out when sentencing came around – the good looking person got a lighter sentence compared to the ugly one. In fact, sometimes good looks actually hurt defendants because jurors assumed the defendants were just taking advantage of their looks.

  As Madison continued, she realized that maybe Amanda wouldn’t get it. Because it wasn’t the actual subject of the conversation that mattered, but the fact that they conversed in the first place. That Brady thought she was smart enough to talk to her about something other people might not understand. It was the way he looked at her with those odd, beige colored eyes, how they lit up when they talked about something he so obviously loved. The way his lips curved into a smile. The way his gentle freckles outlined the definition in his face. The way his hands moved more animated the deeper he got into the subject.

  But Amanda seemed to understand that because she asked Madison to describe how he looked at her and how he pronounced certain words.

  It was a win-win situation because Madison was allowed to gush like a fool and Amanda was distracted from the current situation they were in. It felt good to feel ridiculous instead of being the serious oldest sister who prioritized school and work over boys.

  “So do you think he’s going to ask you out?” Amanda asked once Madison was finished.

  The brunette shrugged. “I don’t know,” she answered, and she hated that she sounded so worried about it. “I mean, I feel that we have something between us, but maybe he doesn’t feel the same way, you know?”

  “Would you ever ask him out?”

  “No!” She shook her head as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m independent and everything, but I still think a guy should ask a girl out.”

  “Good for you. I totally agree.” She paused, twirling a red lock around her finger. “So, okay, question: do you think Brandon Thorpe would get convicted or acquitted. Going back to the conversation you had with Brady. In terms of Thorpe’s looks.”

  Madison chuckled. “He didn’t do it, though,” she pointed out.

  “Oh, and every person who goes on trial is guilty?” Amanda asked, raising a questioning brow. “Come on. If I was on a jury, I’d totally let him go free. He’s pretty cute, right? Not in the obvious way or anything like that, but he has that whole brooding thing down as well as Bruce Wayne. And we all know how hot Bruce Wayne is.”

  “Oh my God,” Madison said, shaking her head.

  “Hello!” Now it was Amanda who sounded obvious. “It would be the perfect discussion for you to have with Brady. You’d be applying the knowledge he gave you to current events. God, I’m a fucking genius.” Faye’s head snapped in Amanda’s direction – though Lara Stinson didn’t seem to have heard – about to say something when Amanda said to the captain, “We’re not in uniform.”

  Faye closed her mouth and turned back around, but the look on her face said that she was not happy.

  “Good one,” Madison whispered, nudging the red head with her shoulder.

  “Girls, girls.” The conversation was abruptly halted by Lara’s voice. She raised a hand, her fingers glittering with the different rings she wore on each figure, in order to get the Girls’ attention, and once the room quieted, she cleared her throat. “Now that all of you are here, I have a couple of announcements to make.

  “First and foremost, I’m keeping you all on the ice. Those of you who are still shaky with skating, don’t worry, you can just stay by the entranceway to the rink. But I want everyone together which means that during this game, there will be no going through the crowd and no signing memorabilia at our station. I don’t want to scare any of you girls, but my main priority is to keep you safe. And what with Brandon being down at the police station, it could get violent.”

  Shocked gasps and quiet mumblings came out of the Girls’ mouths, and they turned to look at each, wondering if the others knew about this.

  “Calm down,” Lara said, waving her free hand up and down. “Now, calm down. Seraphina Hanson has ordered more security for tonight so I highly doubt anything will happen, but let’s err on the side of caution, hmm? It will also be announced, just before the game starts, that anything thrown onto the ice besides hats will be cause for arrest.”

  “Why would people throw hats onto the ice?” Madison whispered to Amanda. “For hat tricks,” Amanda replied. Madison was about to ask just what a hat trick was when Lara continued.

  “Now, listen, as silly as it sounds, we are the heart of the team. You are the heart of the team.” There was a strength in Lara’s voice that Madison had yet to actually hear before. Until now. “I know it’s hard, what with everything going on right now, but we have to keep smiling. If people see us behaving normally, acting calmly, then they�
�ll be calm and everything will return to normal. Or as normal as they can be. We need to hold things together. We have to inspire hope.”

  Madison felt herself oddly touched by Lara’s speech and realized that being a Gulls’ Girl was more than being eye candy. In essence, the Girls held everything together; they were an approachable gateway to the team, and inspired enthusiasm for the team. They were the glue.

  Madison was proud to be the glue.

  As she changed into her uniform, she wanted to live up to Lara’s creed. She wanted to inspire hope in belly-baring shirts and hot pants.

  Chapter 7

  “So where are these hats going, anyway?” Madison asked Amanda as they rolled in about two carts of various hats that had been tossed onto the ice after Kyle Underwood’s third goal of the period, or, in hockey language, after Kyle Underwood’s hat trick. The game had just ended and it was Amanda and Madison’s night to collect the hats and sort them out after the game.

  “One of three options,” Amanda said, wheeling them to the laundry room that was right between the men and women’s locker room. “The player who makes the hat trick keeps all of them, throws all of them away, or donates all of them. Ken always let the player choose what he wanted to do with them, but it’s always been tradition that the player keep three hats – symbolizing each goal he scored – and donate the rest to charity. Which is why we’re here, in the laundry room. The staff down here is going to clean them so they’re, you know, wearable, and donate them to a charity Underwood chooses. He picked out the three he wants to keep and I’ve already tagged those so when they come out of the wash, they’ll be delivered to his locker.”

  “Wow.” Madison blinked, leaning against her cart and crossing her arms over her chest. “How did the tradition start, anyways? Who, like, just throws hat onto the ice because a hockey player scores three goals in one game?”