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“Okay guys, we need one more to tie it. Then we can celebrate,” Coach Walker called out from the bench. He waved for Luc to come off the ice. “Torin, Moose, Kris. You guys are up. Let’s tie this thing up.”
Sitting on the bench, Luc was tired. Everything ached, and sweat dripped down into his face. But he wanted nothing more to be back on the ice. He squirted a bit of electrolyte drink into his mouth and watched the boys go to work.
It wasn’t long before Tyler was on the ice again and had another one in the back of the net. Coach Walker was not pleased that they seemed to be relying on their captain tonight to get the job done. Sure, Tyler was as talented as they came, and he was no doubt a star. But he wasn’t here to carry the team.
“No one man should be out there working! Now get your shit together, and get this done! I don’t want to be back for overtime!” Coach yelled.
“We don’t, either,” Dom mumbled from the bench.
But things weren’t going as planned. Patrick was tripped by an opposing player and fell exceptionally hard, leading to a diving penalty on the Renegades.
Kris was in the corner trying to fight for the puck and got speared in the stomach with a stick. Obviously frustrated, he shoved the guy, not once, but twice, before he fell to the ice. Kris ended up in the penalty box also, for roughing.
Taking advantage of their power play, New York scored again.
Once Kris and Pat were back on the bench, Coach gave Teagen and Walsh a chance, and after two turnovers and another bad penalty, there were just two minutes left in the game. New York led 3–2. Tyler had played most of the game, and Coach was doing his best to light a fire under the others. “Marcella, Lafleur, Dubois!”
Luc leapt off the bench and over the wall onto the ice. The Renegades had just taken the puck back to their end so the players could change. Tyler was exhausted, and as much as he protested to stay on the ice, Coach wasn’t having any of it.
Kris took control of the puck as Walsh and Teagen jumped onto the bench. Kris took it wide around their net, then quickened his stride towards center ice. Tossing the puck to Luc, he fell back into his defensive position.
Seizing the opportunity to have a chance at the net, Luc flew down the ice with the puck. He knew no one was on his heels, yet. They would be, soon enough. One minute to go. The horn sounded, and the crowd grew terribly loud, cheering on their home team. The upper right side was his chance; the goalie had been sloppy covering that tonight. Taking a hard wrist shot at the net, he held his breath until… “Fuck!” The frozen rubber disc bounced off the post and right to a New York player.
“Fucking post! Dammit!” Luc muttered to himself, as he took large, hard strides in an attempt to catch up with him.
The New York player shot the puck towards Kaden, who caught it in his glove hand, but it was too late. The buzzer sounded, and the game was over. They’d lost.
“Hey Rock-Star, go grab us another pitcher of beer for the table,” Patrick called over the loud music. He did the universal sign for drinking with his hand to his mouth, miming it, and pointed to the empty pitcher. The one they had been drinking was empty, and after that game, they were in desperate need of more alcohol.
Luc was tired of correcting the guys when they called him Rock-Star. How long is it going to take these guys to embrace Puck-Star? He was tired and still pissed that he missed that shot. “Why don’t we just order it? Where’s the waitress?” He looked around, but the place was packed, and their waitress was nowhere to be found. She’d been MIA for the last half hour.
“What’s the matter, Marcella? Still pouting over your missed shot? I think the whole arena heard that one ring,” Tanner remarked.
Luc took a deep breath. “I need more alcohol. Where is that damned waitress?”
“Just go get a new pitcher! You missed the shot, you go get the booze,” Torin said.
“Just go, Luc. I’m sure you’ll come back with a fistful of numbers. Maybe it’ll lighten your mood,” Patrick teased.
There were plenty of girls around the bar, but none caught his eye. He looked them all over from where he sat, but still nothing. He didn’t want to go get any of their numbers. And the guys were starting to look at him oddly, because they needed more beer.
“I see about three hotties I’d like to take back to my room,” Torin said, drooling. “If Rock-Star is asleep at the wheel, I’ll go get the beer and get me a girl or two.”
Before Luc could answer to save face, Torin was already halfway to the bar.
“What’s up with you, Marcella?” Kaden cocked his head at Luc. “Problems making it stand at attention? It’s okay, you can tell us.”
The whole table laughed at Kaden’s remarks.
“Ha ha, you think you’re so funny, K-man. Nah, nothing like that. I’m just pissed about the game. Screw it. I’ll go get the beer,” Luc said through gritted teeth.
“You gotta leave that shit on the ice, Marcella,” Tyler said. “Torin got the beer, so don’t worry about it. But the next one’s on you. Hey, I think that blonde at the bar has her eye on you.”
Luc shook his head. He knew these guys better than anyone, and the torment wasn’t going to stop. He didn’t care about the blonde. There was only one girl on his mind, and she was back in Pittsburgh.
Torin returned with a pitcher of beer, a tray of shots, and three room numbers. “Drink up and eat your heart out, bitches! Guess who’s getting lucky tonight?” He tossed back a shot and released an evil laugh.
“Three numbers, huh? Way to go, big shot.” Kris poured himself a glass of beer and pushed the shot aside.
