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Chapter One
Sebastian
“Now can you tell me?” I ask my agent with a steely look. “Why the hell am I in San Antonio?”
We’re outside an office in some swanky luxurious high-rise in the city waiting for a mystery meeting. It’s been all top-secret this and on-a-need-to-know-basis that for the past week. My agent Lydia said it would be worth it. She said it would blow my socks off.
I have to be honest, my expectations are low.
In terms of hockey cities, San Antonio ranks at the bottom. Literally. The San Antonio Hyenas are the worst team in the league. Have been for decades.
Whatever ‘amazing deal’ she’s cooked up is already stinking like a sweaty hockey bag in the Texas sun. I don’t want any part of it.
If the person we’re meeting hadn’t sent his private jet to pick me up, I would never have agreed to come. There’s no way I’d fly commercial just to tell the Hyenas that I’ll never play for their shitty team.
“Alright, I guess I can tell you!” Lydia says with a big energetic smile. It’s making my hangover even worse. My head is pounding and my patience is wearing thin. “How would you like to be a Hyena?”
“How would you like to be unemployed?”
“Hear me out,” she says as she perks up in her seat. “There’s a new owner in town. Did you hear about the acquisition this summer?”
“Yeah,” I say as I sink into the leather sofa, wishing I hadn’t gotten on that jet after all. I knew this would be a waste of time. “Some billionaire bought the team. So what?”
“So,” she says, barely able to contain her excitement. This energy is why I hired her as my agent when I entered the league five years ago. She seemed so enthusiastic and full of spunk. I thought her exuberance would get me more sponsorship deals and higher paycheques. I didn’t take into account how it would make my hangovers worse. “It’s not just any billionaire. It’s Brantley Van Morgan.”
I stare at her. Am I supposed to know who that is?
“I can see that you don’t look impressed,” she says, her smile not even fading a little bit. “But wait until you see what he has planned for this franchise.”
“It’s the fucking Hyenas,” I say with a laugh, even though it’s far from fucking funny. “Why would I ever play here?”
“I think you have to listen with an open mind and a clear heart.”
I shake my head as I listen to her. How can my agent be so out of touch with reality? The fucking Hyenas? Really?!
They call me The Sniper for a reason. I was the league scorer for the last five years. Nobody handles a puck like me. Five years in the league and I’ve brought home three Stoney Cups.
What a waste of time. Now, I’ll have to start agent shopping when I get home too.
“I can tell that you’re not happy,” she says when she sees my face. “But Sebastian, I think you’re going to?—”
The door to the office opens, interrupting her. A guy in a fitted suit walks out and nods to us. “Mr. Van Morgan is ready to see you now.”
I sigh as I stand up. This better be over fast. I want to be back in Miami and settled in some sleazy bar three whiskeys deep before midnight.
“Remember,” Lydia whispers as we walk to the office. “Open mind.”
I’m more ready to give them a piece of my mind as I head in.
Brantley Van Fuckface is standing at the head of the huge table in his dark blue designer suit. “Welcome to the Hyenas headquarters, Mr. Kemp,” he says in a deep authoritative voice. He looks like he’s hovering around fifty years old with his salt-and-pepper hair and finely-groomed beard. “Please, take a seat.”
Lydia and him exchange hellos as I look around the luxurious conference room on my way to a seat. He has five suits on his side of the table. They look like a line of deranged mannequins with the way they’re smiling at me. I’m too hungover for this shit.
I slump in my chair as everyone sits down.
“Thank you for coming,” Van Morgan says with a nod. “I’m sure that Lydia filled you in?”
“Nope.”
