Cole was right. He should take his own advice and go for what he wanted. Fuck everyone else’s opinion, including his domineering mother’s. He gritted his teeth against the still-throbbing discomfort knifing through him and straightened, grounding himself to the tile floor in an effort to numb the physical and emotional pain. Perhaps it was a harbinger of his mother’s prediction on his career shelf-life, but he wasn’t ready to be taken down yet. He owned one of the top save percentages in the NHL, and his team was playoff bound. He wouldn’t be sidetracked now when everything he wanted hung in reach of his grasping fingertips. Not by family obligations, a medical prognosis, or a rocket shot from the blue line.
Chapter Three
Kylie sat at her desk, her mind drifting back to the open mic when she’d met Shredder at Blues & Brews as it had multiple times since that night. She just couldn’t seem to stop the huge goalie from infiltrating her most private and intimate thoughts. In the end, Kylie’s rendition of Chasing Pavements won out on the applause meter over Shredder’s cover of Pour Some Sugar on Me. Even though she’d emerged victorious, Kylie had enjoyed watching Shredder’s solid yet lithe body gyrate to words about being hot and sticky from head to feet. It made her imagine rubbing honey on his shiny bald head, and maybe some other parts too. And running her tongue over them to taste the sugary goodness. Licking.
And licking.
Ah, the stuff of her illicit fantasies, possessing her mind and body every time she watched him on television. With a racing heart, she imagined his lopsided smile behind his full mask every time he made a killer save.
Despite winning the karaoke challenge, she hadn’t yet claimed her prize of a date because of the Riot’s playoff run. Nothing was more important to the entire city of Rochester than the drive for the Stanley Cup. She and Shredder had been bantering and flirting via text every time he’d been in Rochester, but Lou had been riding the players so hard with extra practices and workouts that Shredder wanted to wait until the off-season.
In true NHL fashion, the players also started growing beards that wouldn’t be removed until they lost a series. Shredder’s was thicker and longer than most, and he admitted it embarrassed him. He’d even refused to FaceTime her. Due to the heat underneath his mask, he liked being hair free. So he’d asked for a raincheck until he could clean up before seeing her and be able to give her his “full attention.”
Last night, the dream of holding Lord Stanley’s Cup high in the air had ended in the last game of the division championships when the Riot had lost by one goal in a heartbreaker.
“Kyles, can you come here?” El’s melodic voiced pierced through her daydreams. “We need to talk about the transition.”
“Sure.”
As soon as she dealt with the shit storm right in front of her, Kylie would make good on her offer to claim her prize from a hairless Shredder Politski. Right now, she concentrated on tamping down the nausea that bubbled up the back of her throat as she slid into a leather office chair opposite Eloise. Since last night’s loss, Sheehan Murphy had turned extra surly, crabbing around the executive offices and blaming his expensive center, Cole Fiorino, for not getting the job done that he’d been paid millions of dollars to accomplish. He’d thought he could buy the top prize in the NHL just like he bought everything else. In addition to Murphy having his first Cup within his grasp and losing it, a neighborhood uprising had nearly ruined the opening home game of the playoffs, and a scandal involving Murphy, the resident unethical douche bag, resulted in a major shuffle in management.
The fallout now extended into her personal realm as she swept aside thoughts of Shredder and hugged herself, dumbfounded, staring at her boss. Until this moment, she’d hoped against hope that Eloise would reconsider.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving the Riot,” Kylie said, the words drifting into the electrically charged office air. She rubbed her flushed skin, trying to still her trembling as tears pricked her eyes. She loved her job with the Riot. But the main reason she did was because of her killer boss, Eloise. “I don’t know what to say.”
Eloise smiled, her eyes laced with empathy and kindness. “All good things come to an end sooner or later,” she said, looking nostalgically around the room. “But it’s really a beginning for Cole and me. I know it’s the right thing for us, for the family we hope to start.” A pink tinge of joy spread over Eloise’s cheeks. “Just wish me good luck and come by Casa Fiorino once in a while,” she said. “You’ll be the one person I’ll welcome more than anyone else.”
“Even your sisters?” Kylie teased, trying in vain to keep the tears from escaping.
“Even them.”
Kylie nodded and held up both hands. “Hey, I’m so there, El. I think it’s brilliant that Cole bought the Blues & Brews and is turning it into an Italian bistro. I just can’t picture you running a restaurant. You’re so good at your job here with the Riot. There will be a lot of PR for a restaurant, but it won’t be as challenging as handling Sheehan Murphy.” She swallowed hard and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? What am I going to do without you?”
“Oh, come here,” Eloise said, rising from her chair and reaching out for a hug.
Kylie stood and walked into her soon-to-be-former boss’s embrace. But more than anything, El had been a real friend over and above her leadership as a Director for the Riot. She truly would miss Eloise. They’d worked together for years and worked well. She was practically her best friend.
Eloise hugged her tight. “Barbara Townsend will make a brilliant Director of Communications and Community Relations. She comes from a very strong background and has really been underutilized as she catered to Sheehan’s every whim. There isn’t anyone who doesn’t love you, Kyles. I’m sure you two will be best friends before you know it,” she said, her voice muffling into Kylie’s shoulder. But Kylie now realized you can’t be friends with your boss, and she wouldn’t be making that mistake again. Doing so meant pain, and Kylie did everything within her power to avoid feeling it. She’d suffered enough throughout her rough childhood to last a lifetime. “I’m not leaving Rochester,” Eloise comforted, “and I’m not leaving this second. You’ll have to put up with me for a few more weeks.”
“I can do that,” Kylie said, returning the hug and stifling a sniffle.
“And the renovation to the Blues will take a while. You’ll see me around even after that, don’t worry.”
Kylie nodded, reluctant to release Eloise but not wanting to create an awkward girl-on-girl moment. She didn’t quite love the woman that way.
“Sure. Like the dry-cleaning lady or the beauty salon receptionist. Just in passing.” She withdrew and looked Eloise directly in her green eyes. Kylie admitted to a tiny bit of jealousy over El’s stunning features and voluptuous figure but would give almost anything to keep her boss exactly as is – her boss. She didn’t know Barbara very well, and what if they didn’t get along? What if Barbara wanted to stifle her creativity or temper her wild wardrobe selections for the sake of stuffy professionalism? “Oh El, you know we’re going to drift apart. It’s inevitable. But I’m truly happy for you and Cole. Really.”
“Thanks, Kyles. That means a lot to me.” She brightened and gave Kylie a wink. “Maybe Barbara will even take you up on your offers of spa days and yoga classes. Who knows? She might even already eat organic.”
“Maybe,” Kylie said with a shrug. Not many people understood her philosophy about the body being a temple. “After working as Sheehan Murphy’s assistant, she’ll be ready for practically anything. How could she be anything but grateful after getting out from underneath the thumb of that arrogant prick? I can’t believe he’s blaming the playoff loss on Cole. He scored ten goals in the series!” Both women laughed as they commiserated over Murphy’s inappropriate behavior. Thank god the back-up Goalie, Jim Bennett, had been in the net for the losing game or Shredder would be even more miserable over the ending of the Riot’s play-off run. Murphy seemed to delig
ht in pointing his chubby finger everywhere but at himself. “Maybe you’ll have time to join us since you won’t be slaving nine to five at a desk anymore.”
Eloise calmed her laughter but shook her head. “True. I’ll be working 24/7 trying to get Casa Fiorino up and running. And if I’m lucky the only classes I’ll be attending will be pre-natal.”
Kylie’s eyes widened. “You’re not…?”
Eloise held her hands up in stop-sign fashion. “No, not yet. It’s just something we both want, hopefully sooner rather than later.”
Kylie smiled, more like a twist of lips since the information had come out of left field. “Wow. Kids. I always thought you were strong, but girl, that will take guts. You know I wish you all the best. Don’t ask Aunt Kylie to babysit until they’re at least two years old. I like a little person with at least some communication skills outside of ear piercing wails.”
El returned the smile with genuine, heartfelt warmth. “I’ll remember that. And I do want kids right away. I truly do.” They stood locked in each other’s gaze until Kylie’s cell phone buzzed against the wood top of her desk in the outer room.
“No rest for the wicked,” Kylie said, her voice close to breaking, then turned away to answer the call.
She reached her desk and felt her guts twist as she recognized the number on the phone’s tiny screen. Not now. Not again. Hell’s bells, Jezz. I told you only after payday…
“Hello?” She closed the door between her desk area and Eloise’s office suite, not wanting any chance of Eloise overhearing this conversation and going into ‘fix it’ mode in true executive style. This situation was something even Eloise Robertson couldn’t handle.
“Rosie,” Jezz sobbed. “You’ve gotta come now. It hurts so bad…please.”
Kylie squeezed her eyes shut. Her pink Converse-clad foot began to tap with anxious energy. Don’t beg, Jezz, you know I can’t resist that. “Alright, calm down. I can’t get there until after work. Don’t call me again, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Kylie hung up before another pitiful word could be uttered. She would need extra yoga sessions after this to ease the tension in her muscles. Just venturing into the old neighborhood made her feel filthy both inside and out.
She hoped Eloise was right and that Barbara would make just as congenial a boss as her friend had been. She could not afford to lose her job. It was all that separated her from the abyss of poverty from which she’d crawled. The barrier between perky Kylie Rose and her destitute alter-ego Rose Kinewski – between life and something marginally better than death. A door she needed the courage to seal closed for good.
***
The worn stairs creaked beneath her sneakered feet. The smell of urine and garbage hung like a tattered shroud all around her. She clutched her package to her chest. It represented a train ticket on an underground railroad; one that would see her safely out of this disgusting environment and back to the real world.
Once she reached the third floor of the crumbling apartment building, she crept down the hall covered with fluid stained, threadbare puce carpet to the room where Jezz and her cronies lived. No – existed. Lived implied an optimism that hadn’t endured and would never rise from the ashes of negativity that enshrouded this building. She pushed the burn-marked wooden door open; it never locked because the deadbolt had been ripped off years ago.
Jezz lay on a sagging sofa, one arm thrown over her face. She stirred at the noise of Kylie’s entrance. “Rosie?” she croaked. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Jezz, don’t get up.” Kylie crouched by the chipped, spindly legged end table next to the saggy sofa and emptied her bag. Bottled water, potato chips, string cheese, and trail mix. At the bottom was the item she feared most; a plastic pill bottle filled with OxyContin tablets. She hadn’t wanted to touch it. As if doing so would lace her veins with the toxic drug too. And then she’d fall into an eternal chasm to be enveloped in darkness.
Kylie much preferred herbal remedies, natural foods, and substances to support good health, owing to her newfound fascination with Zen theories and practices. But the frail, deteriorating creature on the couch was too far gone for anything like that. Drastic situations called for drastic measures, no matter how much they went against her better judgment. Jezz jolted awake at the sound of the rattling pills.
She sat up, brushing her graying hair from her eyes. “I knew you’d come. I love you, Rosie.”
“I know, I know,” Kylie said, measuring out the tablets and helping Jezz to swallow them with a few gulps of the water. “Now, you have to promise to eat some of this stuff I brought you. You need protein and healthy fats. And water. It will help metabolize the medicine so it doesn’t overwhelm your frail system. Don’t let it go to waste, or I won’t bring you any more food. Ever. Understand?” She peeled open a cheese string and handed it to her.
Jezz took it with a shaking hand and sniffed it, wrinkling her nose before taking a tiny mouse-sized nibble. “This stinks.”
Kylie laughed, the sound more menacing than mirthful. “How would you know? This place stinks. You stink, you rascal. Didn’t I bring you bubble bath last week? Have you even opened the bottle?”
Jezz shrugged. “I dunno. Did you really bring me suds?”
Kylie snorted in defeat. “I’m sure I did. Never mind.” She looked at the older woman, her heart in knots. “Jezz, I have to tell you something. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t be coming to see you again. I have to move on, do you understand? It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means I love myself more.”
Jezz focused on her cheese string, alternately biting it and picking strands off it with her soiled fingers. “Uh-huh.”
Kylie blinked. Jezz either didn’t hear her or didn’t understand at all. “I’m going away. Do you hear me?”
Jezz looked up, her hooded gray eyes turning frightened. Crazed. “No. You can’t go. I need you.”
“You need lots of things, but not me. I have to go away and be the person I was meant to be. Find my real mother, like I promised myself I would.”
“I had a daughter once,” Jezz said, turning her attention back to her snack. Her once soulful eyes glazed over with a drug-induced haze. One that spoke of pain, regret and multiple failed attempts at rehab.
The exchange was going nowhere. Jezz often rambled on about imaginary things. A byproduct of a life filled with addiction and abuse. Kylie feared that Alzheimer’s might slowly be creeping into the frame on top of Jezz’s other self-destructive behavior. Her heart convulsed in pity. “Sure you did. Well, let her bring you food and medicine from now on. I gotta go.” She unfolded her knees and rose to leave. Even though it broke her heart, she had to stay strong for the sake of her future. Besides, she’d already had her heart shattered so many times there wasn’t much muscle left for the agony to slice through.
“Bye, Rosie.”
Kylie shook her head and backed out of the room. She fought for breath as she raced through the hall and down the battered stairs to street level and the outdoors. As if staying inside one second longer would steal her very soul from her trembling body. The place always made her claustrophobic. But no more. She was done with Jezz and the stains of her old life – if you could call it a life. No longer content to keep even her pinkie hooked in the chains of the past, she inhaled a cleansing breath and practiced a short meditation. In the long lens of time, it seemed more like a bad dream than a reality, one she hoped to purge from memory and move on once and for all. She exhaled deeply. Breathe in love. Breathe out negativity. Just like in yoga class. As though she could expel her history out through her nostrils along with the rancid smell from inside.
Her heart ached for Jezz and how far she’d slipped from the crafty, streetwise woman she’d once known. The woman who’d taken care of Rose and some of her friends who’d also escaped the broken down and tragic foster system. They formed a ragtag street band of girls and guys who were determined to make it on their own; they just needed a little help in the trans
ition. Jezz had been there for them back then; now it was their turn to be there for Jezz.
Only no one else showed up.
Kylie was lucky enough to qualify for an assistance program and eventually attend college, but not everyone fared as well. They’d broken up like a nest of street rats and disappeared into their respective holes, never to be seen again.
Which left the task of repaying Jezz to Kylie. After years of holding her obligation close to the vest, she’d thrown in the towel. She’d just resigned.
It was Kylie Rose’s life that mattered now. And she’d make it count.
Chapter Four
The front office seemed empty without Eloise, but Kylie couldn’t begrudge her old boss’s need for a break and quality time with the man she loved. She’d opted to use out her remaining vacation days and her office had gone dark until Barbara had moved in a few days ago. And Florida sure beat Minnesota with the unseasonably cold weather they’d been having. It felt like the last of the spring thaw might never happen. She hoped Cole and Eloise were having a good time – they deserved it after a crazy season.
With Sheehan Murphy stepping back from Operations and concentrating on his whiskey business, which left the COO position open. General Manager Lou Spieker had declined the job, offering it to Eloise instead. With her departure, Lou had to cast the net a bit wider, and one of the personalities being considered sat just a few feet away, behind the closed doors of Eloise’s – no, Barbara’s, Kylie reminded herself – office. She sighed. This was going to take some getting used to.
She busied herself cleaning up old computer files and the pernicious desk clutter that invariably gathered throughout the year. Off-season was slow in the front office of a pro hockey team, but that didn’t mean business came to a standstill. Preparations for the fall had already begun, with events such as the World Cup of Hockey even preceding the next regular season. Like she’d said to Eloise, there’s no rest for the wicked.
The Crease: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance Page 3
