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(WADE)
I’ve always vibed with the Feeling Pucky event because it’s for charity. This is my third one and I’m psyched.
Annually, all of the mascots in the league get together for a shooting competition. Okay, it’s not actually a competition. The nets are attended by area kids who are coached by the goalies from all the teams. The players and fans divide up into "teams" for the various charities.
It’s all about community and raising money for great causes and fun.
But the mascots make it into a competition. The traveling trophy is ugly as fuck and we play for it as if it’s made of diamonds and gold. It’s worth a year of bragging rights, and there’s plenty of trash talk on the ice.
I don’t really get into all of that. I’m just here to have fun. But I know everyone is always surprised that I’m a fantastic skater and have a really great slap shot.
Despite the Racketeers’ loss in the championship, spirits are high in the arena tonight and the fans seem into everything. I’m feeling good, not only because I have a real chance at the trophy—I think Mr. Armstrong might get a kick out of me winning that on behalf of the Racketeers—but because Crew McNeill has a plan for tonight that will make the event especially memorable for our fans. And I get to be part of it.
First, I have to beat the damn dragon from Dallas, though. It’s down to just the two of us.
I don’t know who the fuck is wearing that dragon costume, but whoever it is keeps body checking me whenever he comes out onto the ice to take his position. He’s trying to score on Blake Wilder and the kid he’s coaching at the net.
I would probably know who this asshole is if I paid attention to the mascots’ group chat. I’m in it, but I don’t really participate. I’m going to find out afterwards when we all change out of our costumes, though. I don’t know what this guy’s problem is.
Still, I make a show for the fans, staggering backwards and windmilling my arms when he bumps into me. Then I pretend to get up in his face. The way he bumps into me feels pretty damned real though.
"What’s your problem?" I ask low enough that the microphones around us won’t pick it up. "Take it down a notch, huh?"
The dragon just shrugs and skates into position for his next shot.
I take a second to glance up into the stands. I love watching our fans react and interact with one another and the mascots and players.
Tonight, our players—other than the goalies—are up in the seats with the fans, supporting the mascots. The Racketeers are not all cheering for me. They’re seated based on which charity they’re "cheering for", but overall it’s a fun change.
I locate McNeill sitting with his pregnant girlfriend, Dani, and her two other guys, including Mr. Armstrong. I quickly look away. He’s already warned me about my part in tonight‘s event and I can’t get nervous or I might fuck it up.
I also note Alexsei Ryan and Coach Phillips sitting together with the amazingly gorgeous Luna, and her other guy, the dude who sits with her at games now.
I hate that guy.
In the next section over I note Luna and Dani’s friend Elise with Justin Travers. I pull up a little straighter because she’s hot and I think single. Except I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Travers is totally flirting with the curvy brunette.
And as I glance at our net, I notice that Wilder is watching Travers and Elise with narrowed eyes.
I don’t know what the hell that means other than no pussy for Wade yet again with all these damn hockey players around.
The crowd representing the charity the dragon is playing for—a multi-state literacy program—goes crazy.
The Dallas dragon has shot the puck directly past Blake Wilder and the kid he’s supposed to be coaching.
Not only is there no love for Wade, that fucking dragon just beat me because Wilder was distracted.
I blow out a breath. Dammit. These women are becoming a real problem for the Racketeers.
I mean, I understand women being a distraction, but these guys have got to play hockey around here. Then again, if any hot girl in her twenties shows me any sort of attention, I will be beyond distracted.
The dragon skates up to me, hip bumps me, then skates off toward the hallway that will lead to the locker rooms.
I start after him. I need to figure out what the hell is going on. Do I know this guy or something? Do I owe him money? Have we smoked weed together before?
Maybe I owe him money for the weed.
I step off the ice and head down the short hallway. I’m needed up in the stands in about two minutes, but I want to find out what this guy‘s deal is.
