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Cammy’s eyes flash through my mind. Matty’s grin.
Christ, I don’t want to give them up. I don’t—
“He say why?” They never say why.
“Just to send you up when you got here.”
I drop my bag at the security desk and then take the stairs two at a time to the second floor where the offices are located, scrolling through the hockey feeds as I go. No news of a Slayers trade. My agent didn’t know anything when I talked to him earlier.
I take a breath, every loss, blown shot, and missed opportunity rolling through my mind on fast forward. I stretch my neck and repeat three times, “I’m not getting traded.”
The General Manager’s door opens before I knock, and Coach Adkins meets my eyes with a glare. “About time. Jesus, Meyers, get in here.”
The office is packed with three coaches and a guy who looks about as comfortable as I feel.
From behind his desk, Marty Sheely waves a meaty hand between us. “Danny Whalen, meet your new captain, Ruxton Meyers. Rux, Danny’s our new center, coming up from the farm team. Why don’t you show him around.”
I start to breathe again. Give the universe a mental high five and, after shaking a few hands and promising the GM I’ll get the kid situated, get out of there.
Ten minutes later, we’re down in the locker room where I’m getting Danny and the team up to speed.
“Okay, so Popov and O’Brian both sport chubs in here—”
“Jesus, one fucking time,” O’Brian bitches.
“So if you feel something graze your thigh… my money’s on them. Vsev is not the guy to go to for advice on birth control. You want to stay out of jail, probably better keep your distance from Bowie, Static, and Diesel. Got a picture of your mom on your phone?”
Danny nods, his mouth caught between a smile and frown. “Yeah?”
“Don’t show it to Bear. Tucker’s prickly. If Grady here looks like he’s feeling you out, don’t get excited. His brother’s getting married this summer and it’s looking like there’s no line he won’t cross to make sure he’s got a date when he goes home.”
“Come on, man,” Grady sighs, shaking his head. “Loan me Cammy for the weekend and I’ll leave the rookie alone.”
Dude. Didnot.
Grady’s hands come up as he backs away. “Whoa, kidding, Rux.Kidding.”
Better be.
Vassar flashes that thing he calls a smile. “So in case you missed it, don’t joke about Cammy.”
“Words to live by,” O’Brian chimes in.
I shake out my fist. See whose next. “And Kellog… Kellog’s good people. We should hang out more.”
A whistle blows and I look around. “Time’s up. You’ll have to meet the rest of the team on your own. Team, here’s what you need to know about Whalen, he’s fast as fuck, hungry as hell, spent two years with the farm team, grew up in Virginia, likes oatmeal but not oatmeal cookies, favorite song is ‘Believe’ by Cher, and has a pet snake he isn’t allowed to keep at the hotel and needs a volunteer to house and feed it until he finds a place of his own.”
I slap the kid on the back and head over to my stall to suit up for practice. My phone pings and thinking it might be Cammy, I check. It’s from the Slayers PR guy. And he wants to know what the hell is up with me and Greg’s reporter/stalker Stuart Waters.
Ah shit.
* * *
Cammy
“I don’t get it.He’s suggesting that I’ve got something to do with how the team is performing this season.” I fill my glass from the tap and slide back into my chair at the kitchen table. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Rux is sitting beside me, his body language casual, but there’s a tension in his eyes I can’t miss. He’s bothered more than he wants me to know. Enough that he came here straight from practice and hasn’t stuck his head in the fridge yet.
