He waits for it to die down. The media coordinator steps in to run through the Cup rotation schedule for the summer. Rodriguez raises his hand and asks if he’s allowed to eat cereal out of it and Barrett tells him to sit down.
They go around the room confirming travel dates and places and when she gets to me the whole room goes a little quieter.
“Zach, we spoke to the youth center in Wisconsin and you’re confirmed for July 14th. They’re clearing the gym. The kids are losing their minds apparently.”
I nod. The youth center where I learned to play.
Barrett wraps up the rotation and I’m expecting him to dismiss us when he puts both hands on the podium and looks around the room.
“One more thing,” he says. “I wanted to tell you as a group before it goes public.”
I’m holding my breath because this is the moment where he tells us that they’re bringing Luca back for next season and I’ll be playing backup again.
“Luca’s been traded.”
It hits the room like a delayed whistle.
“What? Where?” Rodriguez asks.
Barrett looks at us. “Florida.”
The word hangs there. Florida. The team we just beat in seven games for the Stanley Cup. The team whose building I stood in three weeks ago making forty-seven saves while their crowd wished me dead.
Brody is on his feet. “You’re kidding.”
“Sit down, Carter.”
“Florida? Are you serious? That’s where Martinez is and you’re telling me Luca is goingthere?”
“Sit down.”
“That’s where they send the rejects, Coach. That’s where the problem children go. That’s the league’s garbage disposal.”
“Brody.” Roman’s voice cuts through it. Calm and flat the way Roman does everything. “Jude Donovan is their assistant coach. He’s going to be the next head coach down there. You know Jude. Jude isn’t running a garbage disposal.”
Brody sits down. He’s still wound tight but the mention of Donovan takes some of the anger out of it. Jude played for the Puckaneers before my time—before most of our time—but the guys who overlap with his era still talk about him like he was something special.
Rodriguez breaks the silence. “So Luca’s going to Florida.” He’s nodding slowly and I can see the gears turning. “Palm trees. Flamingos. South Beach. Bienvenidos a Miami.” He starts humming and I can’t tell if he’s trying to defuse the tension or if he’s genuinely excited. Knowing Rodriguez, both. “How soon can we visit? Jules and I could do a weekend. Z, you and Mackie should come. Brody, you and Elliot?—”
“I’m not going to Miami,” Brody says.
“–you can work through that. Dex, Goldie can fly after the baby comes. Roman, Marnie?—”
“Rodriguez,” Barrett says.
“Road trip. All of us. We’ll visit Luca. Hit the beach?—”
“RODRIGUEZ.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“Shut up.”
Barrett dismisses the room. Guys file out slowly. I sit in my chair for a second and stare at the Puckaneers logo on the wall. Luca in a Florida Vice jersey. Luca on the other side of the ice. Luca, who I replaced, playing for the team I just beat.
Rodriguez is waiting for me in the hallway. He bumps my shoulder.
“Weird, right?”
