His quiet didn’t bother anyone, but the flash of anger in his eyes whenever a play didn’t go as planned hinted at a temper that could be an issue once he settled in enough to show it.
They already had one hothead on the team. Since Hunt was a goalie, a certain amount of moodiness was to be expected. Goalies tended to be a bit messy.
Rookies couldn’t afford to be. There was always another player in the wings ready to take their place.
Priest was too good to screw up this opportunity by losing his cool. And there would be plenty to push his buttons. There might be more black players in the league than when Dominik had started, and there were rules against racial slurs, but if some ass thought they could get under his skin without getting caught?
They’d whisper whatever vile shit they could think of.
The kid needed to learn to get revenge on the scoreboard.
You practically adopted one rookie, Mason. Gonna take on another?
Shaking his head, Dominik prepared to jump over the boards as his shift started and defense came in to make the change. A sweet buzz shivered over his flesh as he dove into the play, taking point on the blue line as Heath sliced into the offensive zone, and snapped the puck back to Priest.
With a quick crossover, Priest dodged the Jersey defense. A perfect move, but Heath couldn’t keep up. Driving forward, he tried to get in position.
And Priest slammed right into him.
Dominik winced as Priest’s stick caught Heath in the mouth and blood gushed over Heath’s bottom lip. The ref blew the whistle as Heath knelt, holding his glove to his mouth.
“Fucking wanker.” Heath gritted out as Dominik helped him to his feet. He glared at Priest as the rookie skated alongside them to the bench. “You on our team?”
Priest’s eyes narrowed. “Ya, but are you? Or would you rather be out in the parking lot having another smoke?”
“Enough.” Dominik frowned at Heath. He’d noticed the young man coming home smelling like cigarettes a few times, but he’d figured the kid had met a chick with the habit and didn’t want to pry. Maybe it was time they have a chat. “Get patched up, Ladd.”
“Naw, you got something to say to me?” Fresh blood spilled over Heath’s bottom lip as he sneered. “Bloody cunt.”
Shoving forward, Priest reached for Heath, hissing under his breath. “What did you call me, you fucking cock sucker?”
Already on his way over, Hunt caught Priest’s last words and dropped his gloves.
“Mason, grab him!” Callahan shouted from the far end of the bench. Shoving past the players, Callahan nodded when the ref snapped at him. “Timeout!”
As the ref put the timeout on the clock, Dominik cursed under his breath and blocked Hunt. The goalie being protective of Heath was sweet, but they didn’t need this kind of bullshit already. Thankfully, Ramos was close enough to keep Priest and Heath apart while Dominik muscled the young goalie clear of them both.
He gave Hunt a hard shake and grabbed the cage of his mask. “Eyes on me. Don’t make this worse.”
“Coach is tossing Ladd from the game?”
“Probably. Would you care to join him?” Dominik sighed when Hunt hesitated. “You’re not helping him by losing it, kid. Play the game. Then we’ll figure this out, all right?”
Hunt stared at the bench, shoulders stiff. Then inclined his head.
The glare he shot Priest wasn’t encouraging.
“What the fuck?” Leaning against the boards at the far end of the bench, Priest took a few gulps of water, swallowing hard as Dominik skated up to stand in front of him. “I didn’t mean to slam into him. Dude thinks he can call me a cunt—”
“He calls the milk he spills in the morning a cunt.” Dominik chuckled as Priest blinked at him. “Not an excuse, he knows he can’t talk like that here.” He considered what the rookie had said. Thankfully, no one else had heard, but he’d have gotten suspended if a ref had caught it. His jaw hardened. “Neither can you.”
Shoulders slumped, Priest nodded. “I know. That was stupid. I just didn’t expect…” He rolled his eyes and tipped his head back. “No excuses. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Dominik patted the rookie’s shoulder and gave him a level look. “Next time, keep your head up. You’re good at reading plays, but you need to learn to react when things don’t go as planned. If you’d been facing me I would have hip checked your cocky ass.”
Priest’s lips curved slightly. “I’m too fast for you, old man.”
“Fast enough to do a spectacular flip onto the ice when I cut you off.” Dominik didn’t take offense to the kid calling him old. If he was in the right mindset to banter, he’d be fine. “Just remember what I said.”
The next shift they shared showed Priest took instructions very well. Head up, he continued to anticipate the movements of the opposition, but when a pass was off he didn’t fumble or lose his cool. As Nammi retrieved the puck and scooped it back to Priest on a pinch, Priest dodged the Jersey defense and passed to Vanek.
Who tucked the puck into the net through the five-hole.
Finishing the game 7-3, the Cobras hit the locker room, several of the men calling out for Dominik to join them for a beer at the local pub. During the pre-season he usually hung out more to get to know the new players, but tonight he was focused on Heath. Something was eating at the kid and it was past time Dominik figured out what.
After he’d showered and changed into his light grey, summer suit, he headed out, half hoping Heath would be waiting for him since they’d driven here together. The parking lot was empty, but the faint smell of cigarette smoke told him it hadn’t been for long. Sure, a few other guys on the team smoked, but they wouldn’t do it here. Heath might have been too pissed to mind the no-smoking signs.
“Damn it, Heath.” Dominik groaned as he started toward the exit.
Behind him came steady footsteps. “What are you doing here?”
Lips parted, Dominik turned. But Priest wasn’t talking to him. A man in his forties, who bore a striking resemblance to Priest, climbed out of the back of a sleek town car with a broad smile.
“I wanted to be here for your first game, but I couldn’t get out of the board meeting early enough.” The man’s distinct West African accent lent a warmth to his words as he clapped Priest on the shoulder, his eyes glowing with pride. “You were amazing out there.”
“Thanks.” Priest inhaled roughly. “But I wasn’t expecting you to come all the way up here just to see a pre-season game. I know how busy you are.”
“If it makes you feel better, I was able to make this a business trip as well.” The man lowered his voice as he caught sight of Dominik. “But we can discuss that later. Is that one of your teammates?”
The man sounded like he already knew exactly who Dominik was, and really wanted to know what the hell he was doing there, but Dominik wasn’t about to feel awkward about being in the ‘Players Only’ parking lot.
He gave the elder man his most professional smile as he walked over and held out his hand. “Dominik Mason, team captain. Are you Russell’s father?”
“No, I’m afraid my brother passed away when Russell was very young. I am his uncle, Donnell Priest.” Donnell shook Dominik’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, but…if you would, I’d appreciate some discretion.”
Brow furrowing, Dominik glanced over at Priest, who frowned at his uncle, looking confused.
“Russell doesn’t know. As the captain, perhaps it would be good if you do, in case things are misinterpreted later.” Donnell rubbed his jaw with his thumb and forefinger, studying his nephew for a moment before finally shaking his head. “As you must have seen, Russell is an exceptional player. He earned his place with the team.”
“There’s no doubt of that. Why would anyone…?” Dominik considered the man, nodding as it hit him. “You’re a potential buyer.”
Jerking away from his uncle, Russell stumbled, his lips moving silently. The young man looked absolutely cr
ushed. “No. No, you can’t fucking do that! No one will believe you didn’t have something to do with me getting an invite for tryouts.”
“Listen to me, son—”
“Don’t fucking ‘son’ me! My father never would have pulled this shit.” Russell swallowed hard, crossing one arm over his chest as though to shield himself from the knowledge he couldn’t avoid. “It’s not a coincidence it was the Cobras that invited me. It’s part of the deal.”
“You were finally given a chance to prove yourself. I won’t apologize for that.” Donnell seemed torn between wanting to comfort his nephew, while standing firm behind his decision. “Out of fifty-five invited you were one of only two signed with the team. You could have been sent to the farm team, or not been offered a contract at all.”
“I could have done this myself! I wanted to! Then it would be my work, not your fucking money!”
At the sound of voices coming from the hall, Dominik made a cutting motion and caught Donnell’s eye. The man inclined his head. This conversation would have to continue elsewhere if they wanted to avoid Russell’s ‘advantage’ being exposed to the team too soon.
“I’ll be in town until tomorrow, Russell.” Donnell reached for his nephew, lowering his gaze when the young man took another step back. “Please call me if you’d like to talk.”
Russell’s jaw hardened. “I won’t.”
Inclining his head again, Donnell got in the back seat of the town car and motioned to the driver. Russell tensed as the voices of the players got louder and the door leading out from the hall opened. He turned and started toward the exit.
Dominik grabbed his arm. “Come on. We’ve got to talk.”
For a second he was sure Russell would pull away from him too. Instead, the rookie followed him to his car and got in without a word. Sitting in the passenger side in a nicely pressed, yet badly fitted suit, Russell reminded Dominik a bit of himself at that age. So determined to prove himself. Resentful of any offer to help because all he heard was ‘You can’t do this alone.’
Not ‘You shouldn’t have to.’
If Donnell was rich enough to buy the team, and was this invested in Russell’s career, he’d likely insisted on providing Russell with expensive, custom-fitted suits. With the argument they’d just had, Russell had probably turned him down. And gotten the suits sent to him anyway.
Only to shove them in the back of his closet before heading to the closest store to buy some suits without trying them on.
“I have a guy that does my fittings for me. Go see him tomorrow.” Dominik scanned the streets for Heath, hoping the young man had headed straight home. Sahara was pretty good at getting through to him, and if nothing else, she and Bran would keep him distracted until Dominik got there.
Russell shifted in his seat, tugging at his suit jacket. “Why do you care about my suit?”
“Because how you look reflects on the team. You’re a proud man, Priest, and I get wanting your independence, but hockey isn’t a solo sport.” His lips curved slightly as he slowed at a stoplight. “You could always just wear the suits your uncle gave you.”
“And look like a spoiled rich kid who’s only here because…” Russell’s words trailed off and he glanced over at Dominik, brow furrowed. “How did you know he bought me some?”
“I guessed.” Dominik tapped the steering wheel as the light turned green and he continued down the main road. Russell was staying with Mirek Brends—who’d been with the team almost as long as Dominik—and his wife until he settled into Dartmouth. Dominik knew the fastest route to the Swede defensemen’s big house on the outskirts of Halifax, but he took the long way to give himself and Russell time to have a little chat.
He waited to see if Russell would open up on his own. As expected, the silence eventually got him talking.
“I love my uncle, he’s done so much for me and my mom, but he can just be so… Ugh!” Russell slammed his head back against the seat. “And I sound like an ungrateful fuck when I complain. But my dad never took handouts either. Even when Uncle Donnell was growing his construction business and offered to make my dad a partner, my dad refused. He’d busted his ass to become an ironworker and he wanted to keep building things. He agreed to move to the states from Ghana not long after my uncle did, but only if he could do it without his brother’s influence.”
Dominik nodded slowly. “And he did.”
“Yes. My mother was pregnant and I was only three. She’s told me the fights they used to have because Uncle Donnell thought our house was too small, Dad’s car was too old, the doctors…” Russell’s voice hitched. “The doctors weren’t good enough. And maybe he was right. Maybe better doctors would have bought him more time.”
“I’m sure the doctors did all they could.”
“I don’t know. I mean, Mom lost the baby even after Uncle Donnell got the best doctors for her. Money can’t fix everything.”
“No, it can’t.” Dominik understood the push and pull between uncle and nephew now, how torn Russell was between gratitude and needing his independence. Needing to know he was as strong as his father who he’d lost much too young. The pressure of the game could bring out a lot of frustrations and raw emotions. The challenge was using that energy, rather than letting it take control. Which was a skill that had to be developed, like any other. “I think your uncle is proud of you. He wants to be there for you in any way he can, but you need to set limits as to what you’re comfortable with.”
“Like him not buying my way onto a damn team?”
“He didn’t buy this, Russell. You earned it.” They’d reached the house, but they weren’t done yet. Dominik parked on the street and faced the rookie, forearm rested on the steering wheel. “How many sons and nephews and brothers are in the league? Did they get an extra glance because of who they knew? Yes. Does that make them luckier than most? Maybe. But it’s what they do with that opportunity that counts.” He waited a beat until Russell nodded slowly, then continued. “I had a coach who knew the assistant GM for the Blackhawks. He put in a word for me and got a recruiter to come watch me play. If not for that, I never would have been on their radar.” He held Russell’s gaze. “But I was still the one who played.”
Russell rubbed his thighs, staring down at his hands. “Do you think the guys on the team will see it that way?”
“I do. Just show them who you are on the ice and in the locker room. By the time it comes out that your uncle might buy the team, no one will give a fuck.”
Lips curving slightly at the last, Russell inclined his head. “Fine. I won’t give him a hard time about getting me the opportunity. But I’m wearing my own suits.”
“So long as they fit you properly.” Dominik pulled out his wallet and grabbed the card for his tailor. He sent most of the rookies to the man since he was good at dealing with guys who’d never spent more than fifty bucks on a jacket.
The tailor was also a gossip and bragged about his clients. Russell having a rich uncle invested in the team, yet still going local for suits rather than getting them in LA would be great for his image. A few charities and the ‘diversity’ pieces the local media would likely run about the team this season would have only good things to say about the rookie.
So long as he didn’t lose his cool on the ice. Or online.
Maybe Dominik should check to see who the kid’s agent was. Make sure he had the right people to advise him.
Not tonight though. He didn’t need the young man resenting his interference as much as he’d resented his uncle’s.
“Hey, Mason?” Russell stepped onto the sidewalk and leaned on the roof of the car. “Thanks for this. I know you’re close to Ladd, so I figured you’d hate me for going at it with him. But you’ve been…really cool.”
Dominik let out a soft laugh. “He’s a teammate and so are you. Not everyone’s got to be best buddies, but I think you’ll get along fine once you get to know one another. He’s a good kid.”
Russell nodded, but didn’t look convinced
. “He’s been on the team almost a full season and he’s two months older than me.”
“Not sure what you’re getting at.”
Shrugging, Russell backed away from the car. “Neither of us are kids.”
On the way home, Dominik couldn’t get Russell’s last words out of his head. Or the fact that the rookie had thought he’d automatically take Heath’s side. Maybe he had been giving Heath some preferential treatment without meaning to. Did he talk about Heath differently in interviews than he did other teammates? Yell at him less in the locker room? No, it couldn’t be that. Russell hadn’t been with the team long enough to have noticed that.
But Dominik was the captain of the team. And he was adopting Bran and Kimber. This wasn’t a secret to anyone and the dynamics might make a new player wonder…
He rubbed a hand over his face as he reached his street. His conversation with Russell had shifted the first impression of favoritism, but he’d have to make sure no one else on the team felt that way. And do his best to adjust his behavior if they did.
Pulling into the garage, he breathed out a sigh of relief as he spotted Heath on the front steps. After leaving the car, he bit into his inner cheek to hold back the lecture when he spotted the cigarette held loosely between Heath’s fingers.
They’d discuss the smoking once he figured out what was eating at his young ward.
Without looking up, Heath whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Move over.” Dominik inhaled roughly, grinding his teeth at the harsh scent of nicotine as he lowered to the space beside Heath on the step. “What’s going on with you?”
Heath rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “I hate the new rookies. I know I shouldn’t, but…”
“But what?”
“I have a friend, back in Russia. I thought he might get an invite to try out. That he could come here and…and be safe.” A tear spilled over the edge of Heath’s hand and dropped to his pants, darkening the grey to black. “He’s as good as them, if not better.”
OverTime (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 9) Page 24
