“So Thorpe’s not playing tonight then?” Emma asked, turning back to look at her father.
“I highly doubt it,” he said. “If the police took him in for questioning this morning, he’s probably still there. You’ve seen Law and Order and how the cops try to waste time with their suspect during the questioning while the rest try and find enough evidence for an arrest.”
“But he’ll be released, right? I mean, since they haven’t actually arrested him, he can technically leave whenever he wants.”
Jeremy nodded. “But I think it’s a good thing he’s not here playing tonight,” he said. “The crowd is already rowdy and the puck hasn’t dropped. It’s preseason. And it’s the Gulls. I swear, people need any excuse to start a fight, and Thorpe’s presence might have been that spark. Then again, people might also be disappointed that he’s not here, and start a fight because of that.”
“We’re going to be okay though, right? People aren’t going to riot or anything crazy like that.” She looked around again, wishing the game would just start so people could be temporarily distracted from their anger.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” He pointed back towards the entrance of their section. “Seraphina Hanson added more security in order to protect people and break up any fights before they start. See?”
Emma felt herself calm down when she noticed that every usher in every section had a person from security standing next to them with a no-nonsense look on their face. The lights dim, and an announcement was made, reminding people not to throw anything on the ice unless they wanted to be arrested. The teams were called out, cheering erupted, and the national was sung.
When Emma and her father took their seats, Jeremy pointed. “Poor girl,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?” Emma asked, looking to where he pointed. She recognized Katella Hanson sitting in her usual place, but her younger sister was nowhere to be found. “I’m sure the press has been hounding the two sisters, Seraphina especially. It doesn’t surprise me to see that she’s not here.”
“I still don’t understand what they expect from her,” Emma said, her eyes focused on the game before her. “Her grandfather just died, both her uncle and her goalie are suspects. I think she’s handling herself well, especially for someone who’s only twenty-three.” She frowned, tilting her head to the side in order to look at her father. “What more could possibly be said about her anyways?”
“You’d be surprised,” her father said flatly. “An anonymous source – I’m beginning to think it’s the same one who just keeps selling the same story to different papers – just continues to rip into her. It’s the usual stuff that’s been said these past few weeks, but it just intensified after she made that public stance in support of Brandon Thorpe. They don’t take her seriously, they think that the only reason she kept him on is because she thinks he’s cute or is sleeping with him. Trust me, there are some pretty funny theories, that she’s carrying his secret love child.”
Emma couldn’t help but chuckle at the last one.
“He’s, like, okay,” Emma said, waving her hand palm down back and forth as though to say half-half. “But even if he was super hot, she doesn’t seem like the type to sleep with her player.”
“Exactly,” Jeremy said. “The press is just brutal. This source, whoever they are, actually said that Seraphina should have sold the team, and her accepting it just proved her ignorance.”
“Or her loyalty to her family,” Emma muttered. “Everyone needs to just leave her alone. She’s doing better than everyone expected, I think.”
“I agree, but there are still some things she needs to learn.” Jeremy pointed out Katella, an enigmatic look on her face. “For one, Seraphina needs to grow some thick skin. I know I’ve already said that but I think it’s worth mentioning. Take Katella; it’s obvious she’s the strong one. Look at her. She’s sitting right there despite everything that’s happening to her family. It’s easy to use Seraphina as sort of the poster girl for this tragedy because she’s the public figure, she’s the owner, but people need to realize that nearly everything that’s happening to her is happening to Katella. The only difference is that Katella’s here right now. She’s always here. No matter what. And I think that shows a lot of class.”
It was only a few minutes into the game when a fight broke out. Almost as though the crowd was one cohesive unit, everybody jumped onto their feet and started to cheer. Both players – a Shark and Alec Schumacher – each had a tight grip on his opponent’s jersey and had already disposed of their gloves, currently littering the ice, in order to get crisper shots. Alec got clipped on the side of his forehead even though he tried to duck while the Gull managed to get at least three hits on the Shark’s face. Somehow, they managed to balance on the ice while fighting, which was something Emma couldn’t fathom doing herself.
But what had caused the fight in the first place? Emma had been talking to her father, not quite paying attention. The people behind her were discussing it, and she managed to overhear that the Shark was nudging and pushing Alec while play was elsewhere on the ice. It also looked like the Shark said something too, probably about Thorpe or even the new owner. As a result, Alec turned around and the fight broke out.
The linesmen let the fight go on for a few minutes – which seemed to shock Jeremy because he started yelling at them to break it up – before stopping it. Interestingly enough, it was the Shark that got sent to the penalty box, which definitely elicited some boos from the crowd due to the fact that the San Francisco had a big fan base down in Southern California.
The power play.
Emma felt herself lean forward unconsciously. Kyle was on the ice, along with Matt Peters and Alec. The rookie defenseman Michael Thompson and another right winger from the second line, Dimitri Petrov made up the roster. The goalie in for Brandon Thorpe was bent at the knees, preparing himself for the possibility of a turnover.
“Who’s that?” Emma asked in a quiet voice, motioning towards the Gulls’ new goalie.
“Sam Miller,” her father replied in the same tone. “Ken picked him up from the American Hockey League. He’s not the best and he’s not the worst. I think Ken grabbed him because he sees a lot of potential in the kid. Miller’s only twenty but you can tell with the way he plays that he’s eager to please and that he wants to do his best. But that over eagerness also causes him to fumble sometimes. I think this is a good idea, though. It’s only preseason, and I’m sure Henry Wayne wants to feel the kid out, see where he’s at in terms of skill. It’s only a couple of minutes into the game, but he seems to be doing okay.”
Thirty seconds had passed. Jeremy explained that Wayne called the players on the ice back to the bench in order to have them rest, sending in another group. After a minute and fifteen seconds went by, he pulled the second group and sent back in the first group. The Gulls had lost the puck a couple of times, but the Sharks merely cleared it.
Forty-five seconds left.
Matt Peters stood just above the blue line on the offensive zone. To his right, nearly along the boards, was Alec Schumacher. To his left, near the boards as well, was Michael Thompson. Kyle Underwood stood near the left goalpost while Dimitri Petrov was on the right. They were set, and Matt had the puck.
Instead of rushing Matt, the four Shark defensemen huddled in the middle of the Gulls’ formation, each individual with their eyes on the puck. He passed it over to Michael. The rookie wasn’t able to settle the puck down, and as such, a Shark rushed towards him. Michael managed to get a puck over to Matt before being checked into the boards. This gave Matt a good passing opportunity to Dimitri. A Shark managed to get in front of the puck but he couldn’t control it. Alec picked up the rebound, skating up along the boards, before crossing it across the ice. Originally, the pass was for Dimitri but he couldn’t quite reach it. But Kyle was in a perfect position to, tilted his stick so the curve of it faced the black rubber, and tipped it into the left side of the net.
Goal, with fou
rteen seconds left of the power play.
The crowd jumped up and started cheering.
The Gulls skated over to their teammate and started tapping him on his helmet, pulling him into quick hugs.
“That kid,” Jeremy said over the roar of the crowd, “is the one to watch. I’m telling you.”
Emma couldn’t help but smile as her eyes took in the pure and utter happiness written on Kyle’s face. She knew this wasn’t his first season of hockey, and yet every time he scored, it was as if he was a kid who just found out he was going to Disneyland. And his delight caused Emma, and probably lots of others, to feel that ecstasy as well.
“Speaking of which,” Jeremy said as the crowd quieted and sat down once again, “how was your dinner last night? Don’t give me that look Emma. Surely you had to know I’d figure it out. He pretty much wrote it on the stick he gave you.”
Emma felt herself blushing at her father’s question, but he was right. She couldn’t deny it.
“We thought it would be better if we were friends,” she managed to say. The Shark who had been occupying the penalty box got up and skated out onto the ice, taking his position as the referee dropped the puck. “He’s young, doing what he loves to do, and has no intention of settling down any time soon. And, well, you know me. I’m a dancer and that’s a top priority. Dating could possibly distract me, and I don’t want to take that chance.”
Her father made a sound that didn’t sound as if he fully believed her reasoning, but he didn’t question her. Instead, he leaned back in his chair.
“That’s probably for the best,” he agreed. “I really like the kid now, and I’m not sure how I would feel about him if the two of you were dating. I’d probably want to injure him, which would hurt our first line.”
“Well, I’m glad you don’t have to go through that,” Emma said flatly.
Almost as though he knew the two were talking about him, Kyle looked across the ice from his place on the Gulls’ bench and locked eyes with Emma. He gave her a small, knowing smile and she felt herself reciprocate the gesture. She even mouthed ‘Congratulations’ to which he tilted his head down in a mock-bow. Looking away, Emma pointedly ignored the slight skip in her heart and instead focused on the game before her.
“Who is Dimitri Petrov?” Emma asked, needing to distract herself from a particular player who was trying to fully consume her thoughts. “And why was he on the ice during the power play? He’s a forward, right? Why didn’t the coach send in a second defenseman like normal?”
As Jeremy explained that Dimitri Petrov was a fan favorite right wing defenseman for the second line, that he was pushing forty but still one of the most dominating players on the ice, not just as a Gull but among all clubs in the league. He was warm, friendly, and never rejected a fan wanting an autograph or a picture. He was also from Russia, so when he spoke, it was hard to understand him. The reason Wayne put him in the play instead of a defenseman was because the power play afforded them a better opportunity to score so the coach wanted a good number of forwards rather than defensemen.
“Another thing about Petrov,” Jeremy added as an afterthought. “He’s sort of like the spirit of the team. See the A he wears on his jersey? It stands for alternate. So if anything happened to Peters, Petrov would take over.”
Emma nodded. More information to take in. Power plays, second lines.
And then she saw Kyle with the puck and forgot everything her father had just told her.
21. So it was probably a good thing that no one walked in Seraphina’s office due to the fact the woman was huddled over her desk, completely asleep. The morning’s meeting with Detective Christopher Williams and the subsequent discussion with Katella left her feeling exhausted. She drank two more cups of coffee before heading into work that morning, determined to expand her hockey knowledge by reading, and accumulating more information on her player’s stats. She wanted to figure out what happened to her grandfather but it wasn’t likely she would get any information from numbers and a description of different plays.
She managed to gain some headway, so she took a break during lunch. Again, the media was waiting out front of the Sea Side Ice Palace, so she grabbed an intern and sent him out to Olive Garden for some macaroni and cheese and some milk. As she waited, she pulled out a book she read for fun – the latest Meg Cabot – and tried to block out the many questions swimming through her mind about Papa, Thorpe, and even Alan. When the intern returned, he seemed hesitant.
“What’s wrong?” Seraphina asked, opening the styrofoam box.
“You might want to check out The Register’s website,” he said, scratching the back of his head. A nervous gesture, Seraphina realized. He turned around and headed outside before Seraphina could ask further questions, shutting the door firmly behind him.
“Well, that was weird,” she murmured to herself, her mouth filled with cheesy pasta.
But she decided to take the kid’s advice.
Seraphina never thought she was intimidating. In fact, she had hoped that she came off as warm and approachable. She wanted her employees to come to her with problems or suggestions. On a more selfish note, Seraphina wanted her employees to actually take her seriously, but not to the point where they ran away from her.
Her mind halted.
There, on the front page of The Register’s website, was a video featuring Alan Brown, her uncle. The uncle that had been the police’s primary suspect up until they decided they had more evidence to get Brandon Thorpe.
“What the…”
Seraphina glanced around, and then chided herself for making sure she had privacy. The video was on the web; apparently, people knew about it even before she did. She would have to leave a message on Katella’s phone to check it out after her Katella’s one o’clock meeting. But first, she would have to figure out just what this video was about.
She didn’t know why she hesitated. She was afraid of what he would say.
She clicked the play button and held her breath.
Shouts from the press that hounded a well-dressed Alan – probably suspecting the media would want to speak to him, or maybe he called them himself – asked him multiple questions: did he do it; how did he feel to be a suspect in his father’s murder case; how did it feel knowing his niece inherited the team over him; how did he feel with Brandon Thorpe being a suspect. Granted, Alan waited until they quieted down. He always did like to make people wait, to make an impression that showcased him being more important than he really was.
“I am pleased that Detective Williams and the Newport Beach Police Department has ruled me out as a suspect,” Alan began in a clear, firm voice. “I understand that they were just doing their job so there are no hard feelings from me. I am hoping now the police can focus their attention on the person who actually committed this devastating tragedy. Brandon Thorpe is an amazing hockey player, essential to the Gulls’ success. If it is true that he, indeed, did kill my father, I hope he is punished at the fullest extent of the law. I want justice for my father, and for my family.”
Seraphina snorted. When did he ever care about her and her sister? Or even Ryan, for that matter.
“I am somewhat disappointed that Seraphina Hanson, my youngest niece, inherited the Newport Beach Seagulls. While she is brilliant, she is also young and naïve, and perhaps the best thing for everyone, including herself and for the team, would be to sell it. As noted by the past few preseason games, it is easy to tell that she is not handling my father’s death well, especially by publicly supporting Brandon Thorpe. I’m not certain why she did that – though he is rather easy on the eyes isn’t he?” The media chuckled at the insinuation and Seraphina couldn’t help but turn red. “But it’s just another action that shows her ignorance. In fact, I’m going to look into my grandfather’s mental health around the time he made this will. If Seraphina doesn’t step down as owner, I might have to challenge my father’s decision in court.”
This, of course, sent a flurry of questions direc
ted at Alan, but he was finished speaking. He placed his note cards in the pocket of his jacket lapel and walked away, which was where the video stopped.
There were too many things to feel. Too many questions. Her eyes were bombarded with tears that so desperately wanted to fall, but a measure of defense refused to let them.
The first thought that crossed Seraphina’s mind was the fact that if Alan actually pursued challenging the will, he would get nothing. Didn’t he know that? Did it matter, though? Could he say he was doing something without really doing it? Perhaps he wanted to turn the public against her, not that that would be difficult. There was always some comment about how she was royally screwing this up.
Seraphina called Katella and left a voice message. “Hey, it’s me. There’s something you need to see. I’m sending you the link right now. Call me when you get this.”
A couple of tears managed to slip past their barricades, and she allowed herself a few, long moments to feel sorry for herself. In essence, Alan was right. Seraphina was in way over her head. She didn’t know what she was doing. Publicly defending Thorpe was the right thing to do – she knew that. But she also knew that people wouldn’t see it that way. Sure, the players on the team and the coaching staff would appreciate it, hopefully, but people on the outside were going to judge her. Perhaps if she was older, had more experienced, had thick skin, she could handle it. But honestly, she just graduated college, unsure of what she was going to do in her life when suddenly thrust into this management position she really didn’t want which. She knew she would make mistakes but she didn’t realize that every mistake would be publicly criticized, scrutinized, and then she would be crucified on a constant basis.
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