“Yes, I think that’s best,” she said, standing her ground.
In spite of Shredder’s words, Natasha had a point. Who was quirky, slapstick Kylie Rose to be rubbing shoulders with the ultra-rich? How long before her lack of education and breeding showed through and caused an international deal to fall through, or worse, be unable to converse with her partner when he got bored with the limits of her working-class mindset? Shredder was just blinded by the passion of a new romance and the shedding of his blanket of dark secrets. He associated that freedom with her. It wouldn’t last.
It never did. Not for someone like her.
Her voice trembled as she spoke and one lonely tear escaped the confines of her eye and trailed down her flushed cheek. Her hand itched to swipe it away. “It’s true I don’t have any inheritance. In fact, it’s worse than that.”
“Kylie,” Shredder said, walking toward her, but she stayed him with her palm. The last thing she wanted was pity. Especially his.
“I don’t even know who my parents are,” she said. “I was abandoned, raised in the social system. My parents didn’t want me, but I have my job and my friends. That’s all I think I need. Until I got here, I didn’t even know that Shredder had money outside of his goalie salary with the Riot and even that intimidated me. I even considered not dating him because of the differences between us. Mrs. Politski, I don’t want your dirty money. Not one damn copper penny. If your money was all that stood between me and certain death, I’d slit my own throat before I’d reach to you for a handout.”
***
Kylie insisted on choosing separate seats on the flight home. Even though she felt like someone had stabbed a dull butter knife into her heart, he’d just nodded his head. He didn’t argue, appearing to be willing to wait until she cooled down before addressing the herd of elephants in the aircraft cabin. Disappointment roiled through her. At herself for stupidly thinking she could have a man like him, and at him for being quiet on the taxi ride to JFK. Didn’t he want to fight for her? For them? Obviously not.
She cursed herself for coming on this trip, she should have known it was foolish, going away for a weekend with a man she hardly knew. And it turned out she knew him even less than she’d previously thought. She should have stayed behind to see Jezz in the hospital, make sure she got home okay and…damn. She’d promised herself to let go of all that, walk away. But how could she with Denny lurking in the shadows? Dangerous Denny, hovering about with his vicious threats and maelstrom of negativity casting a shroud of darkness over everything he touched.
A solid body sliding into the seat next to her interrupted her firestorm of fretting. “You ready to talk civilized yet?” Shredder asked. The sexy cologne she’d come to associate with happiness swirled beneath her nostrils as he sat down. But now…she associated that scent with pain. Pain so deep and abiding her soul ached. She’d never forget that scent.
“I’m always civilized. Are you?”
“Please, let’s talk about this. Let me explain.”
What is there to explain? I’m beneath you. You know it. Ariana knows it. Your mother sure as hell knows it.
“Save your energy for your operation or your next team. Don’t waste it on a little social-climber like me. Once you’re gone, I plan on walking out on the ice during warm-ups under the guise of official Riot business and flash my pink pubes to our new goalie. That has to be good for a dinner at Pescara at the very least. Maybe if I suck his cock, I can upgrade to a weekend of fucking and gold digging at The Kahler Grand.”
Shredder leaned back in his cramped coach airplane seat and clamped his eyes shut. He held his breath because his massive chest stopped its normal rise and fall. Good. She’d hit a nerve. Poor bastard probably had never flown coach before this round trip in the course of his pampered life. After a minute of stiff silence and ragged breathing, he began to speak, ignoring her filthy attempt at humor at his expense. Kylie pursed her lips. She wanted him to rail at her, flail his hands through the air. Anything but this deadly calm as if he didn’t even give a shit.
“My mother comes from a very insular and territorial background. She doesn’t know anything else besides protecting her interests and the interests of her family. Her family roots in Poland trace back to King Stanislaw the first. I apologize to you because of her, not for her. I’m their only child, they supported my hockey in every way possible, but I can’t play forever. I’m expected to take over the business enterprises someday. She thinks she can protect me by choosing a wealthy girl of similar heritage for me. Keeping her place in society is the only thing she knows.”
“Arranged marriages?” Kylie said, scowling. “Who does that nowadays? Come on.”
Shredder sighed. “Nothing’s arranged…only in Natasha’s mind. The Troutmans are family friends. It’s what her generation is used to, matching up children of friends and business associates all for the greater good. Emotion has no bearing on decisions such as these. I’m not even sure my mother could follow her own heart if it jumped from her chest to lead the way. I barely know Ariana. I see her maybe twice a year.”
“See her? As in date her? Have you slept with her? Did they offer her perfect body up to you on a silver platter just like her hand in marriage? A little taste of the fare before you indulge in the entire buffet?”
“No. Her family usually attends these functions, like the July Fourth Fair. If I’m around at these events, she’s usually there. It’s not preplanned. I’m away for most of my mother’s charitable galas anyway, especially during the winter.”
“But she wasn’t there this time. Until this morning. You only brought me because you thought she’d be out of the picture.” The lump in her throat wouldn’t dissipate no matter how many times she tried to swallow it down. Realization hit her. Hard. If Shredder had known Ariana would be home for the fair, he’d have gone alone so he could court her. Kiss her.
Choose her.
“Would you have preferred I bring you knowing that she’d be there? I’m not sure I’m understanding what you think I would have to gain by doing that.”
Kylie looked down. “I guess not.”
“Finally. Logic enters the frame.”
“Shredder,” she said before she could stop herself. His expectant look brought her defenses down for an electrically charged moment.
“Yeah?”
“This can’t work, you and me. I’m white trash compared to your distinguished lineage. Even though I don’t know, I can guess that my ancestors date back to victims of the Salem witch trials. And if your mother could, she’d place a scarlet letter on my breast and burn me at the stake too. I don’t fit. She clearly hates me. If you take over the family business someday, that’s not a place I want to be…a Desperate Housewife of Long Island. I am who I am, and I want to take care of myself. Just like I always have.”
“Isn’t that precisely what I told you I like about people? Who don’t pretend to be something they’re not? It’s what attracts me to you, don’t you get it?”
“You’ll get bored with me.”
“No, I won’t. You’re the least boring person I’ve ever met.”
“Really?” she asked, a vestige of a smile touching her lips. She appreciated the compliment even though it didn’t change her position. Like Tristan and Isolde, they were star-crossed.
And doomed.
“Really.”
“That’s nice of you to say. But we’re almost back in Rochester. Just so we’re crystal clear,” she said as she glanced up at him. “If you decide to leave the team, I won’t be going with you.”
***
“Welcome back, Kyles,” Barbara said as she arrived at the office and saw Kylie already at her desk. “Did you have a nice weekend on Long Island?”
“Meh.”
Barbara looked at her curiously. “Excuse me? That didn’t sound very promising. I was hoping I could treat you to lunch out of the office so you could fill me in on all the gory details. A woman’s first weekend away with her man is a
special memory.”
“Or a nightmare,” Kylie said, without looking up from her work. “I guess it was a nice party. Great private fireworks display over the ocean. Gourmet food and drink. You know the whole rich people song and dance.”
“That’s all? A nice party?”
“That’s all.”
“Oh.” She sat down in a chair near Kylie’s desk instead of continuing to her own office. “Did you have a disagreement with our Mr. Politski? He’s such a nice young man. I’ve never seen a harsh word from him, except on the ice of course and we have to give our players a pass on that, right?”
“You could say that I had to get a little medieval on him.”
Barbara reached out to place her warm palm over Kylie’s. “I’m sorry to hear that. He’s a very nice guy, from what I’ve seen; very polite. He’s always first in line to help out with team charity drives and such. A bit of a philanthropist type, I’d say.” She cocked her head. “But maybe not your type, huh?”
Kylie suddenly turned her face to Barbara, revealing eyes red-rimmed from crying. “He would be, if I were filthy stinking rich. And if he didn’t have…issues. In reality, this has nothing to do with Shredder as a person. Or me either. It all stems from circumstances outside our control. Circumstances of birth.”
“Ah, circumstances of birth. And we can choose our friends, but we can’t choose our relatives. What sort of issues does Sheldon have?” Bubs asked.
Kylie shook her head and looked away again. “I can’t say. They’re personal.”
Bubs nodded understandingly, the mannerisms of her former career still intact. “Well, give it some time. The path to romance is rarely smooth.”
“I don’t think there’s a path at all,” Kylie scoffed. “Just a jungle of bullshit, for people with a machete big enough to hack through it. Shredder was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and that’s not going to cut it.”
Barbara chuckled. “You’re very funny. One of the many reasons why I like you. Your sense of humor will get you through a lot of things in life. Never lose that.”
Kylie snorted at the irony of her own words kicking her in the ass. You haven’t lost everything till you’ve lost your sense of humor.
“Well,” Barbara said, “I have something that might cheer you up.”
“What’s that?”
“I think we may have identified your birth mother. She’s right here in Rochester.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kylie stared at the frail, sleeping figure lying on the hospital bed, still coming to grips with her newfound knowledge. Part of her probably knew all along. She’d always felt this undeniable physical pull toward this woman no matter what she did or how bad things got. But knowing…well, this made her even lower in the eyes of people like Natasha Politski. No mother was better than a wrung out druggie like Jezz.
Jezz was her mother.
After all these years, and all the time she’d spent wondering, dreaming of a mother’s love, it had been here all along. And it didn’t look anything like it had in her girlish fantasies. She didn’t know the details on how she came to be born, who her father might have been, or the circumstances that led to her abandonment, and she doubted Jezz would recall them either. Some secrets would remain secrets forever. The records management people could only tell her she’d been left behind in the hospital some days after her birth.
Jezz stirred and woke up. Her gray eyes focused and fell on Kylie sitting in the armchair next to the bed. She looked almost lucid. The nurses had advised that since she’d been in the hospital for days, they’d put her through a full detox. Now, all she had to do was stay clean.
“Rosie?” she croaked.
“Yeah, it’s me, Jezz.” Kylie had no desire to say the word mom. Not yet. It died on her lips in bitterness and regret. She might never be able to bring herself to articulate it aloud. “How are you feeling?”
The older woman coughed. “Did you bring me anything?”
Kylie shook her head. “No. The people here have everything you need. More than I could ever give you.” She leaned in a little closer. “Do you remember what happened? Why you’re here?”
Jezz moved her hand to touch her head. The wound wasn’t severe and had mostly healed. They were keeping her in the hospital a bit longer just to give her a head start on her new sober existence. Then she’d be transferred to a long-term care facility for rehab.
“Hit my head,” she said as if she really did have a vivid memory of that night. “I remember now.”
“You mean someone hit you in the head?” Kylie asked, feeling sick at the thought of Denny attacking this woman, her own flesh and blood.
“No, no,” Jezz corrected her, adamant. “Hit my head on the stairs.”
“What?”
“Some little jerk broke into my place, scared the crap outta me. Woke up from a nap and there he was, staring at me. Told him to get out, but he wouldn’t. I tried to push him out, but he pushed back. Broke my damn table.”
“Did you recognize him?”
Jezz shook her head slightly. “He looked familiar, but I never could place him. Didn’t have time to think. Had to act quick. I grabbed the table leg he busted off and chased him out.” An amused giggle left her lips that dissolved into a coughing fit born of chain smoking and drug use.
Kylie rubbed her back. “What else?”
“He ran. Scared the little bugger good,” she continued, clearly pleased with herself. “‘Get out and stay out,’ I said. Chased him into the hall. Damn ankle twisted – down I went.”
Kylie wanted to believe her; believe that Denny only threatened her and that she injured herself by accident. But Jezz’s recollections weren’t all that trustworthy. Hang on a sec. She remembered having a daughter, didn’t she? She cracked a rueful smile.
“I gotta go, Jezz. Glad you’re feeling better,” Kylie said, rising from her chair.
“Rosie, can you bring me some of those cheese things? The strings? After I ate one, I found I really liked it.”
Kylie laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“And Rosie?”
“Yes, Jezz.” She stopped to turn around, and the pleading look in her mother’s clear eyes caused her to return to the bed and place her hand over Jezz’s weathered one.
“I had a dream while I was asleep. It was so real, Rosie. So real.”
“Really? Do you remember it?”
She nodded, and her guilt-stricken eyes glazed over with tears. “I was young and high. I got pregnant. I didn’t know what to do, Rosie. I panicked, and I left my newborn baby at a hospital in downtown Rochester. Couldn’t take care of her. Had to give her a chance at a better life. I have a daughter somewhere. My daughter’s out there.”
When Kylie gasped, Jezz scanned her body from the tip of her pink hair to the soles of her Converse sneakers. “I think I dreamed it because of something that happened. These people came to do genetic testing on me a few days ago at the request of social services. I had to sign a waiver. Why would they do that, Rosie?”
Kylie swallowed hard, but the emotion refused to disappear.
“Rosie, do you think they did it because they’ve found my daughter?”
Kylie squeezed Jezz’s hand and sighed. “Yes. They found your daughter, Jezz.”
A lone tear trailed down Jezz’s weathered cheek.
“Your daughter is me.”
***
Shredder’s back ached as he made his way into the upstairs offices at Rochester Arena. Whether from stress, overexertion in the bedroom, or a shitty plane ride in coach, it was getting progressively worse. He hadn’t heard from Haines but had intimidated his administrative clerk into slotting him an appointment this afternoon. Not his style ordinarily, but pain often pushed people to extraordinary things.
For the moment, he put a clamp on his discomfort and his nervousness. Lou had called him into the office, and that meant big news, one way or another. He knocked on Lou’s door.
“Come in,” L
ou’s voice called, his light southern drawl still lingering. “Hello, Sheldon, have a seat.”
Shredder lowered himself into the padded visitor’s chair without drawing undue attention to his protesting sacral region. The last thing he needed was to put Lou on high alert, thinking an injury might be imminent.
“Thanks, Lou.”
“Well, I guess I have good news, if it’s the kind you want to hear,” Lou said, settling at his desk and placing his elbows on the desktop.
“Let’s hear it,” Shredder said with a nod.
“I have a tentative deal on the table,” Lou said. “The Hurricanes are interested in you, providing they come up with a satisfactory package in exchange. There’s usually lots of discussion in taking on players over thirty and their shelf-life,” he paused to flash a wry smile, “but your stats last season did all the talking for you.”
Shredder nodded, a grin of pride sneaking onto his face.
“They’d want you down there by the first of August for pre-camp, if the deal goes through. Can you wrap things up here by then?”
A spike of pain lit up Shredder’s back then receded again. “Of course, it’s not a problem. You might want to offer the apartment to the new guy,” he offered. “Great news on drafting Linakker, by the way.”
Lou nodded. “Yeah, we’re pleased with our picks. They’ll be on the farm for a while, except for Linakker. He’s…uh. He’s ready. I feel it in my bones, and I’ve never been wrong before.”
“Understatement of the century,” Shredder joked.
Defenseman Niklas Linakker had burned up the European junior ranks with an amazing record. Somehow he’d slipped through the first several team picks, giving the Riot a shot at him. Some even speculated he’d make it right up with the likes of Bobby Orr and Josh “The Trashman” Adams. From the looks of it, the accolades weren’t entirely undeserved.
“Isn’t Cole living at the apartment?” Lou asked.
“He’ll be moving on to his own place in September,” Shredder said. “He and Eloise Robertson are tying the knot.”
The Crease: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance Page 15
