Not a Player (Laketown Hockey Book 1)

by A. J. Wynter

“Smells amazing.” The bacon was sizzling in the pan on the stove and Dylan was spreading what looked to be a tablespoon of butter onto some rye toast.

  “How do you want your eggs?” Dylan held up the spatula and wiggled it at me.

  “Thank Dyl, but I already had breakfast.”

  “What, one of those gross smoothies?” He wrinkled his nose and cracked two eggs directly into the bacon grease.

  “Maybe you should try one,” I said. “Your heart might thank you.” But my mouth was starting to water and it took all of my willpower not to pluck a piece of crispy bacon from the folded paper towel on the counter.

  Dylan patted the front of his mechanic’s shirt. “I’ll stick with real food. Here.” He nudged the plate of bacon at me.

  “No, thanks,” I pushed it away.

  “Ah, come on, Jess. There’s nothing to you,” he said.

  “Yeah, and I’m trying to keep it that way. You don’t have to wear a competition dress in a few months.”

  Dylan broke a piece in half and shoved it into his mouth and handed me the smaller piece. He was relentless. I popped it into my mouth and my eyes practically rolled into my head as the salty crunchiness landed on my tongue. The taste brought me back in time and I could practically see my dad standing at the stove, in his mechanic’s uniform, not unlike Dylan’s, making his bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich before heading off to work.

  “How was your lesson?” Dylan assembled his heart attack platter and sat at the kitchen table. I poured myself a cup of coffee and joined him.

  “I didn’t think he was even going to get on the ice.”

  “Why? Fitzy always does what he’s told.”

  “I don’t think he’s ever been told to do something by a...” I paused. I wasn’t sure which was the bigger problem for him, “Woman, or a figure skater.”

  Dylan took a swig of his coffee. “Figure skater. There are lots of women who teach power skating.”

  I nodded, thankful that Kane wasn’t both a chauvinist and an asshole. “Wait, Jess. Did you wear your figure skates?” Dylan’s eyes were wide.

  “Of course, I wore my figure skates. I don’t have hockey skates.” Dylan popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and stood up before he was finished chewing. “Come with me.”

  “What? Where?” I followed Dylan down the creaky old stairs into the unfinished basement. He pulled the string and the bare lightbulb lit up the dingy space. Dylan started rooting through a plastic bin. “What are you looking for?” I peered over his shoulder.

  “These.”

  He stood up and presented me with a pair of his old hockey skates.

  “What am I supposed to do with these?” I brushed the dust off the boots of the skates, the laces were yellowed from time.

  “I’d start with getting them sharpened. Andy can get them all cleaned up for you.”

  “Are you nuts? I can’t wear these.”

  “Why?” Dylan shut off the light and we both bounded out of the basement, pushing each other out of the way to get up the stairs first. As kids, we were terrified of the low ceilings and cobwebs of the basement and had always raced up the stairs.

  “Dylan, these skates are over ten years old. And, are you forgetting? I wear skates with picks on the front.”

  Dylan put his plate in the sink and poured himself a to-go mug of coffee. “I wore them when I was eleven, they should fit those tiny feet of yours perfectly. Fitzy might take you a bit more seriously if you start speaking his language.” He pointed to the skates. “I’ve got to go.” Dylan shoved his sock feet into his work boots but didn’t lace them up.

  “You’re going in early,” I glanced at the microwave, it was only six-thirty.

  “Ralph and I are going to work on the Volvo and he’s picking me up.” Dylan pulled back the curtain. “And he’s here, bye!” he shouted and somehow managed to run with his laces flying.

  While riding my bike was great cross-training, I was certainly going to be happy to have the car back for my early morning practices. I chugged back the last of the coffee and sent Paige a text asking her for a ride to work, and then turned on the shower as hot as I could get it.

  New bruises were forming on top of the old bruises and I winced as the loofah passed over the hip that took the brunt of my falls. I’d never lost a jump for this long before. It seemed that the harder I tried to get the lutz back, the further it got away from me.

  It wasn’t my job to make Kane stay on the ice, I reasoned as I lathered up my hair with shampoo. If anything, he should put on some figure skates and learn how to harness the power of his edges with finesse, not brute strength. But, as I wiped the steam off the mirror, I realized that if Kane Fitzgerald didn’t get on the ice, I didn’t get paid – and I needed that money more than anything.

  I eased myself onto the edge of my bed and picked up the picture of my mom and dad that sat on my nightstand. It was their wedding day and my mom had worn my grandma’s cheesy eighties wedding dress, complete with puffy sleeves. I tiptoed to their room, Dylan and I hadn’t touched it and I opened my mom’s closet and wrapped my arms around her blouses. I tried not to do this very often, I knew it wasn’t healthy, I also knew that her scent was just laundry detergent, but somehow I felt like I was hugging her. I stepped back and ripped the clothes off the hangers and screamed as I slammed them onto the floor. We didn’t have the money for a therapist, but I knew about the stages of grief, so when I felt anger growing inside of me, I welcomed it.

  My phone chimed and I saw a message from Paige. It was short and to the point and didn’t help my volatile mood. I typed and retyped several angry messages to my so-called friend but ended up deleting them. Paige had quit the chip truck and was going to work at Valerock.

  I took a deep breath and then resigned myself to the fact that I was going to spend my summer frying fish and then trying to find a job for the winter – probably at the tinfoil factory.

  Chapter 16 – Kane

  Most of the guys on the Otters love the actual game of hockey but hate the practices. I’m not one of them. I live for the drills, the camaraderie, and if I’m being honest, feeling I’m the best out there on the ice – giving it my all. But today, I was dreading it.

  The dressing room was buzzing. Leo and Mike were laughing a little too hard at something on Leo’s phone, and the rest of the guys were clowning around. We had one more exhibition game and I couldn’t believe they weren’t taking the last practice seriously. The dressing room door opened, and Coach Covington stepped inside, drawing on his clipboard while he walked. Tanner elbowed me and I looked up from my skates just as the room went silent. Jake McManus, the team’s owner had just walked into the room.

  “Boys,” Coach Covington smiled. “The last game showed me that we need to get back to the basics. Teamwork. There are twenty players on this team, not just Fitzy and Tanner. You win games as a team, not as a player.” He paused and surveyed the room. Everyone was sitting at attention. Jake McManus was a star, and most of the guys had never even met him. “Jake is here to help you today. Jake.” Coach stepped aside and let McManus speak.

  “Hi, guys,” Jake smiled. “Coach asked me to come and skate some drills with you.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I was about to stand shoulder to shoulder with one of my heroes. “He looked at Coach’s clipboard. Which one of you is Leo?” He asked. Leo practically shot out of his skates. Jake continued, “Leo and I are going to run this practice together. Come on and show me what you’ve got.” Jake clapped his hands together. The room erupted in a cheer and we all got up from the benches. Leo looked like he was going to shit his pants. He wasn’t ready for something like this. It should’ve been me running the practice with McManus, not him.

  The team filed out behind Jake like a bunch of puppy dogs – me included.

  “Fitzy, can I have a word with you?” Coach caught me before I was able to leave.

  “Sure, Coach.”

  Tanner lingered behind me.

 
“Tanner, get going.” Coach pointed at the door with his clipboard.

  Tanner paused; his mouth open like he was about to protest. He shot me a glance and I knew exactly what he was thinking. Both of us were equally superstitious, and I still hadn’t told him that I lost my coin. The last thing the team needed was more bad luck.

  “One sec, Coach.” I took a step into the hallway, technically I was out of the room, allowing Tanner to leave, superstition intact. He smiled as he passed and then I stepped back into the room. “What’s up?”

  “How was your training this morning?”

  Coach’s face didn’t give anything away. I couldn’t tell whether he was asking, or if he knew that it had been a disaster.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “It was good.”

  “Good?” He raised his eyebrows at me.

  “Yeah, I think it went okay.”

  Coach put one foot up onto the bench and leaned his elbow on his knee. “You did what she said and got some good pointers?”

  I didn’t want to lie. “Coach, it got off to...” I wanted to say a rough start, but truthfully, the whole thing was a disaster. “I mean, I guess...” I was faltering.

  “You refused to get on the ice and then pulled a hissy fit and left early?”

  A hissy fit? I guess it wasn’t too far off. “Coach. She was wearing figure skates.”

  “I don’t care if she was wearing mukluks.” He glanced down to the paper on his clipboard. “She has some really good insight into your stride. Son, check your ego, show up early, and do exactly what this girl tells you to do.”

  I narrowed my lips, holding in a groan. “Roger that, Coach.” I shoved my hand into my glove. “Can I go now?” I gestured to the door.

  “You’re going to sit on the sidelines for this one, Fitzy.”

  “Coach, are you serious? That’s Jake McManus out there.” I pointed in the direction of the ice where I could hear pucks ricocheting off the boards like gunfire.

  “I know exactly who is out there, and until you get your head out of your ass and start doing what you’re told, you’re not going to see any more ice time.” He smacked the clipboard on his knee and then strode out of the dressing room.

  “Fuck,” I slapped the blade of my stick on the floor.

  The door opened and Coach peeked his head in, “I heard that. You coming?”

  “Yes, Coach.” I breathed out slowly and followed that asshole to the box, where I sat and watched the Entire. Fucking. Practice.

  Hissy fit? I stewed while I watched Tanner practice slap shots with my idol. Stride issues? My hands were shaking by the time practice was over, and only part of that was from sitting in the cold. Anger coursed through my veins.

  After all I did for her? This is how she paid me back? Ratting me out to my coach? I should’ve never lent her my car. Hell, I should’ve never even let a Laketownie like her into my cottage.

  The sky was pink as we exited the arena. The days were getting so long that soon, it would be sunset well after nine at night.

  “Want to hit up the brewpub?” Tanner asked as he got into the passenger seat.

  “Hell, yeah,” I put the car in gear and revved up the engine. “I need a fucking drink. That Covington is such a prick.”

  “He’s trying to bring out your potential.”

  I rolled my eyes and jammed the car into reverse. “You try and take pointers from a figure skater.”

  “Well, is she a good skater?”

  The rest of the team followed behind us. “I guess. But, she’s still a figure skater.” I flicked on the headlights and we pulled out of the arena parking lot.

  “I hear you, buddy. I wouldn’t want to take instruction from a figure skater either, but if it gets you back into Coach’s good graces, you might want to do it.”

  I sighed. “I know.”

  “Hey, is everything alright with you?” Tanner turned down the radio. The host had been yammering on about record high temperatures and water levels.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just don’t seem like yourself.”

  I glanced at Tanner as I drove. “I’ve got to tell you something, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

  “Oookay.”

  “You’re one of the only guys who will get it, and this has to stay between us.” I shifted gears and slowed as we approached the busy parking lot of The Brew Pub. I didn’t give Tanner a chance to guess, “I lost my coin.”

  “Your lucky coin?”

  “What other coin would I be talking about?”

  “Easy,” Tanner held up his hands.

  “Sorry dude. It’s just, ever since I lost that damn coin, everything has been going wrong. I mean everything.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” Tanner clicked out of his seatbelt and turned to face me.

  “From the guy who wouldn’t leave the dressing room until I stepped outside?”

  “Touché,” Tanner chuckled. “Fitzy, I get it. Have you looked for it?”

  “Come on,” I opened the door and got out of the car. “Of course, I looked for it.”

  The headlights from the caravan of hockey players’ cars poured into the small lot, filling up every last parking spot. “Don’t you dare tell the guys,” I whispered.

  “I won’t, but Fitzy. You’re going to have to find it – or find something to replace it.”

  “I know, I know...” But both of us knew that it didn’t work that way. I couldn’t just ‘pick’ something new to be my lucky thing. My missing uncle gave me that coin and as much as I wanted to believe that I could just get a new lucky token, deep down I was afraid that things were only going to get worse until that chunk of gold was back in my pocket.

  Chapter 17 – Kane

  I sat alone at the bar, the second beer dousing my anger.

  A pretty brunette sidled up to the bar beside me. “Want to buy me a drink?”

  “Not really,” I grumbled. Okay, maybe the beer wasn’t helping my mood. The smile dropped off her face and I instantly felt bad. “What are you having?” I raised my finger to get the bartender’s attention. As quickly as it had disappeared, her smile came back. “Vodka soda.” Her voice was high pitched, and she did that annoying baby talk thing that girls seem to think that we like.

  She rested her forearms on the edge of the bar and arched her back, presenting her quite nice looking, breasts to me. She had all the trappings of a puck bunny, the same chunky necklace that they all wore, the fake eyelashes that made them look dopey, and wavy long hair that probably wasn’t all hers. It made me wonder. Had I been at this too long? Were all the women starting to look the same?

  She tapped her manicured nails on the bar while she waited for her drink. “How was practice?”

  Yep. Puck Bunny.

  “How did you know I had practice?”

  “You’re Kane Fitzgerald, right?” Her voice went up an octave at the end of her sentence. She twirled the end of her hair and batted her eyelashes at me as she sipped her drink.

  The girl in front of me could’ve been any of the women I’d met in the last year. Except for Jessie. She didn’t baby talk. Hell, the girl didn’t even wear makeup. If I was a betting man, I’d wager ten thousand dollars that the Barbie doll in front of me wouldn’t set foot outside of her house without spending two hours doing her makeup first.

  I shook my head to try to get the image of Jessie’s freckles out of my mind, and the feel of her breast from my palm, while the girl in front of me yammered on about some music festival.

  It would be easy. I could take this bunny back to my cottage and, no, I wouldn’t even have to take her back to my cottage. I could probably get a quick B.J. in the parking lot and never have to speak to her again.

  Glancing around the bar I saw that most of the team had either disappeared or were currently entertaining some iteration of the girl in front of me. Hell, I was considering it. I was horny - she was there.

  “I’ll be right back,” she whi
spered, letting her fingertips trail along my forearm. As she slid back from the barstool her handbag swung, knocking my entire pint of beer onto my lap. “Shit.” I slid back, but most of the beer had already either soaked my shirt or pooled on my lap.

  “Oh, no.” She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at my shirt and then gave me a wink and dabbed at the zipper of my jeans.

  “It’s okay,” I sighed and took the napkin from her hands.

  “I’ll get some more paper towels.” She disappeared into the crowd.

  I slapped a hundred down on the bar and waved to Nate, the bartender. Before the woman, Kari, Katrina, Katie... fuck, I couldn’t remember, came back to the bar I was out of there.

  The night was cool, and my skin prickled with goosebumps. I hopped into my car and fumbled to get the keys into the ignition. I wasn’t drunk, but I smelled like a brewery. Two drinks in one hour might put me over the limit, I couldn’t risk it. I reclined the seat and closed my eyes. I would have to wait it out with a quick nap. A DUI could ruin my career.

  I WOKE UP SHIVERING and I reached into the back seat, hoping that there was a sweater within arm’s reach. I swigged a mouthful of water and rubbed my eyes as I checked the time on my phone.

  “Shit,” My fingertips found a hoodie in the back seat and I shrugged it on over my t-shirt. It was four forty-five. I found a stick of gum and checked my reflection in the back of the visor. My eyes were bloodshot. I took a whiff inside my shirt and recoiled, I smelled like a Budweiser brewery. No cop in the county would believe that I had just slept off a few beers.

  I locked the car and my brisk walk turned into a jog, with my damp jeans chafing my thighs as I ran. As much as I hated the power skating practices more than I hated the Predators, I had to suck it up, be a man, and just get the damn things over with. My flip flops slapped the pavement and the oxygen pumped through my body as I ran through town and turned onto Oak Street.

  The door to the arena was open and the loud scream from the skate sharpener echoed through the lobby. “Hey, Andy,” I shouted even though I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me.