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“I don’t know. Maybe. Last season was great. I want this year to be even better, but if I end up with less ice time, it’ll be hard to maintain my stats.” This is my last year on contract with Toronto, so the stakes are high. “I’d like us to play together for more than two seasons, you know?”
“They’ll renew. Last season was your best.” Flip smiles. “And we play well on the same line. They’ll take that into account.”
“Yeah. I guess we’ll see how it all rolls out.” I had my best season by far last year, and it was the first time Flip and I had played together since high school. After Hollis was out with an injury, the team floundered. He’d been a lead scorer. But Coach Vander Zee gave me a chance on the first line, and it proved to be a good move. Last year, we made it to the second round of the playoffs. We lost in the seventh game.
I’ve yet to experience the high of winning the Cup, and I’m always afraid my next season could be my last and that victory will never be mine. It’s one thing to be a professional hockey player; it’s another to be on a team that’s won the finals. I want that so badly I can taste it. I want to establish my value so they renew my contract. The team is like an extended family. We take care of each other on the ice. It’s the give and take, and I need it.
We arrive at the arena and head to the meeting room.
Ashish Palaniappa, one of our defensemen, is standing near the door. His wife, Shilpa, is the team lawyer and a total badass. “Stiles, Madden.” He pops a Timbit in his mouth and offers his fist for a bump.
“Hey, Ash.”
Coach Vander Zee is already at the front of the room with a young woman. “Coach get a new assistant or something?” Flip asks after his own fist bump. “She looks kinda young.”
Hemi, aka Wilhelmina Reddi-Grinst, our PR person, and Shilpa appear out of nowhere. “That’s his daughter, Tallulah. She’s seventeen, so put your dirtbag away, Phillip.”
Flip jumps. “Shit. Where the hell did you come from?”
“I’m everywhere.” Hemi cackles ominously, then grows serious. “We have a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss some promotional opportunities that would be beneficial for your image.” She turns to me. “And yours.”
“I’m a good boy,” I say defensively. At least I try to be, but Flip is out of control when we’re at the bar. I always drink too much and end up doing things I shouldn’t. I don’t want to be a problem for the team, and that includes Hemi. “Hi, Shilpa. You look lovely as usual.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sucking up with compliments doesn’t make you less of a liability, Tristan.”
Hemi throws her head back and laughs. Then her expression flattens. “Did you know that your best friend posted a video of you covered in glitter, doing body shots off a woman who may or may not have been a stripper? Or possibly a go-go dancer. Either way, it’s not very family-friendly behavior.”
Shit. Until now I didn’t even remember that happened. Flip ended up going home with her, and her friend. They were, in fact, go-go dancers at a local nightclub.
Flip frowns. “I’m his best friend. I wouldn’t post that.”
“Oh, but you did. So tomorrow morning, we’ll meet and devise a plan so all your endorsement campaigns don’t get pulled.”
Flip’s eyes go wide. “They won’t do that, will they?”
She pats him on the shoulder and walks away, shaking her head.
Shilpa wags a finger at us. “Don’t make my job harder than it needs to be.” She kisses Ashish on the cheek and walks away.
“Fuck.” Flip pulls out his phone and scrolls through his social media. And there it is, a video that starts with a close-up of his nostrils and ends with me sucking vodka out of a woman’s navel. “I’m so sorry, man.”
Clearly not my finest moment, but at least it’s above the waist.
“Catching heat already and the season hasn’t even started.” Dallas Bright, left wing, first-line player, and one of our good friends gives us an understanding smile. “I guarantee it won’t be nearly as bad as the torture she put me through this summer.”
I feel myself grinning. “This I need to hear.” Hemi loathes Dallas and does her best to make sure he knows it.
“She made me dress up as a clown in July. It was balls hot. I thought I was going to die. Full clown makeup, big shoes, red wig—like something straight out of a horror movie. I hate clowns. Like, hate them. I almost had a panic attack from looking in the mirror. It was for a charity cancer event. I guess she found out that I make balloon animals and ran with it. But I can only make dogs, flowers, and lightsabers. I can’t tell you how many kids I made cry because I couldn’t make them what they wanted. It was a train wreck.”
