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“You follow hockey?” I say as he shifts places with Celine.
“I do. More so than some other sports. Blame it on my humble New England upbringing.”
“You’re more French than anything,” Rick says, evoking laughter around the high top.
“He likes to give me shit for being bilingual. My mother is Québécois.”
“It’s the trashiest version of French, but he still used it to his advantage—and to my disadvantage,” Rick says.
“It worked.” Alan laughs, wrapping an arm around Celine.
Rick’s attention wanders and Alan takes the opportunity to lean in.
“You’re playing well,” Alan says.
“Thank you. I work hard. It’s good to see the effort paying off.”
“But you’re here instead of training with your team, four days between your season opener?” There’s a knowing grin that spreads across his face, and the woman to his right leans in, tucking her dark coils behind her ear.
“Oh, come now, Alan. Leave the boy alone. Can’t you see he’s in love?”
The word makes me smile, and I can’t keep it off my face. I may not have said the words last night, but I think I made it pretty clear to Faye how I felt.
“All the more important he knows what he’s up against when he’s done playing,” Alan says.
“I doubt he wants your sales pitch,” Celine says, and he presses a kiss to her shoulder and whispers something in her ear. She nods and then gives me a wry look. “If he bothers you too much, you come find me on the veranda. I’m getting a Bloody Mary.”
I’ve done this song and dance before. It’s not uncommon for other agents to sniff around. I’m happy with my agent. I met Mark in college and he’s been with me since the beginning. I’m ready to tell Alan the same thing, but he starts laughing.
“You’ve got a speech memorized, don’t you?” He tilts his longneck back, sipping the beer.
“I wouldn’t say memorized, but I’m happy with my representation.”
“That’s good. It’s good to feel confident in your team.”
The wordteamsticks, mainly because Mark works with a small, four guy shop based in Tacoma.
“Why don’t you just ask your questions?” I say, leaning into the table as a few of the groomsmen filter in. I glance around the bar, looking for Faye, but she’s not here yet. None of the bridesmaids are.
“What do you want your life to look like when you’ve been retired for five years?”
That’s a new one. Honestly, I haven’t thought that far in the future. Not really.
“Pshew… I don’t know. Wife? Kids? A pet pig?”
He chuckles. “So you’re a traditional guy. You’re not wanting anything crazy.”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, it’d be nice to keep busy doing something I love. Take a summer vacation. Have a nice car.”
“How nice?”
“Probably not as nice as yours,” I say with a laugh that he echoes.
“How much longer you think you’ve got in the league?” His voice is somber, too somber for the occasion. But I don’t shy away.
“If you’d asked me last year, I’d say ten years. But now? Who can say?”
He nods, as if he’s proud of my answer. It’s a strange sense, but I don’t mind it. “How many concussions do you have under your belt?”
