“We have homeschooling co-op!” Her nostrils flare.
I strip off my gear in the hallway and leave it for the new equipment manager.
The old woman looks me up and down in my skintight underlayer and whistles appreciatively. “Nice work.”
“Thanks.” I wink at her.
“Granny!” Ellie hisses.
“Hey, I read a management book once that said compliments go a long way to getting people on your side,” the old woman says.
“I won’t file a sexual harassment lawsuit against you if you tell me what a nice ass I have.” I smirk at Ellie.
“Your ass is going to be benched if you don’t behave,” Ellie warns.
“Yikes, Coach. Straight to the nuclear button, huh?” I pull on my sweatpants and shove my feet into my boots. “If you think a goalie with a criminal record is the thing to save this team, you’re an even worse coach than I thought.”
I holdon for dear life as Ellie whips the SUV around a corner, narrowly missing a stop sign.
“I think you were supposed to stop there.”
“You’re not from Maplewood Falls, are you?” she says as she floors the gas and runs through a yellow light right as it turns red.
Someone wearing an inflatable reindeer costume yells at her and gives her the finger. Ellie rolls down the passenger-side window to scream at the guy and almost runs into a car decorated to look like Santa’s sleigh.
The cold air blasts in my face. “At least if I die, I won’t have to play the Direwolves.”
I roll up the window, or try to. Ellie rolls it back down. “I just think you could have showered before getting in my car.”
“You don’t like the smell of hot male?”
“Hockey players smell atrocious.”
“You didn’t need to bring me along. Are you scared of the big bad goalie?”
She gives me a blank look. “No.”
“Of course you are.”
She then gives me a patronizing look. “I see that you have never worked as a camp counselor or in any sort of early-childhood development. Staff are never alone with a child.”
“So we are going to have two child-bride goalies? We’re not just going to lose—we’re going to be utterly humiliated. Are you part of the gambling ring?” I demand.
“You’re my other adult in the room. You’re the alternate captain.”
The other adult.
I’m not an adult. I mean, Hudson’s the adult. I’m just… I’m the guy who fucks up, who’s too stupid to accept that his mom is a lowlife and puts his neck out for her over and over until he almost gets his head cut off.
I do owe Hudson, though, I think vaguely as I follow Ellie to the squatty cinderblock prison. I could be here right now, rotting away behind bars instead of playing for the NHL.
The police officer in the front office looks bored when we enter.
“Merry Christmas!” Ellie chirps. “I’m here to bail out a prisoner—Stonewall Renwick, goes by Ren?”
The guard grunts and types something on her computer.
“Um…” Ellie’s fumbling to get her wallet out. “Do you take credit card?”
