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We walked directly into a horde of reporters. It was like a zombie movie, and I was the last human on Earth. They descended on me.
Mason got pushed away as they formed a tight semi-circle around me, each holding a microphone, phone, or camera. Lights flashed in my face. I didn’t bother fighting back my irritation and gave them all the stink-eye. Fuckingvultures.
The first question that broke through the noise was aneasy one.
“Riley, how was your first start inthe NHL?”
I didn’t know who asked, so I directed my answer to the group at large. “It was tough. I thought I was ready. I’ve watched a lot of games and spent a few minutes on the ice in Seattle, but nothing prepared me for playing a full game in the big show. The play is on a whole other level. It takes a lot to keep up with all the guys out there, but I think I did an okay job.” A perfectly adequate answer.
“Are you disappointed that you lost your first game?”
“Sure. I’m an athlete. I’m competitive. It always sucks to lose, but it gives you a lot of motivation to try even harder next time.” I knew what they were hedging around, and I wasn’t going to make it easy on them.
“How do you feel about your team leaving you in the lurch at the beginning of the game? That was a shitty thing to do.”
Well, at least someone had the balls to say it straight-up. It didn’t mean I was going to give them the emotional reaction they wanted, though.
“I wasn’t stoked, but I understood why they thought it was necessary,” I deadpanned.
“Have there been any negative comments made toward you?”
“No.” My answer, like my attitude, was short and clipped. They were buzzing around me like flies, and I wanteda swatter.
“Stanton and Hall are going to be out for the rest of the season. Do you think you or Lukin will become the next new goalie for the Blizzards?”
“You would have to ask management about that.”
“Are your teammates’ wives mad that you’re in the locker room with them?”
I didn’t bother answering that one and looked over their head, grateful for the extra inches my heels added. Mason was leaning against a wall, texting. Damn it, Mason. I wouldn’t have minded a rescue now.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I’m not going to answer anything that doesn’t have to do with hockey.”Buzz off.
The door swung open behind me, and I shuffled to the side as much as I could. The ambush of journalists had made me block the lounge door.
“What the fuck is this?” a voice growled behind me. He had barely said two sentences to me, but I already knewhis voice.
“Kingston,” a reporter shouted into my ear. “Is Warren’s presence a distraction on the team? Is that why you didn’t help her during the first minutes ofthe game?”
He looked down at me with his hard, grey eyes and took my wrist. “Come on, Warren, you’ve got to go see the trainers before you can leave,” he announced and dragged me through the crowd. The vultures didn’t follow as he hauled me down the hallway.
I waited until we were out of earshot. “The trainers are in the opposite direction.”
He released me and shrugged.“I know.”
I opened my mouth to question him more, but before I could get anything else out, we were interrupted.
“Riles,” Mason called as he jogged up to us. “Sorry. I didn’t think you needed help.”
“I didn’t,” I denied instinctually then paused. I turned to Kingston and softened my tone a bit. “But I appreciate it.”
He nodded.
“Warren! Frey!” Jones came bounding from the direction of the lounge. “You guys coming out with us tonight? We’re meeting up with some of the Piranhas at Satan’s Place, a bar a few streets away. You gotta celebrate your first official game in the big leagues, Warren!”
“Satan’s Place?” I raised an eyebrow.
