Page 30 of Brooklynaire

Nate

April 24

“The hotel has two towers.They can accommodate all of us, but not on the sameside.”

Lauren is talking to me, planning our upcoming trip to Bal Harbour. But I’m not exactly paying attention. Instead, I’m focused on the stop-and-start traffic on the TriboroughBridge.

It’s Sunday morning, and the team jet has just landed at LaGuardia. My boys did it. They clinched the first round of the playoffs in game five against DC, sending us onward to the second round. We won’t even know who our opponent is until tonight’sgame.

Everything is going my way. Except the traffic. We’ve been in the car for 20 minutes already, inching toward Manhattan. “It shouldn’t be like this on a Sunday morning,” Icomplain.

Lauren pokes me in the hip with her ballpoint pen. “Ramesh can’t get there any faster even if you tap your foot like an asshole the wholetime.”

“Thank you, oh wiseone.”

In the front seat I hear Rameshsnort.

“Listen up, would you? Or don’t, I don’t care. But no bitching about the accommodations later.” Her perfect fingernails click as she uses the wireless keyboard in herlap.

“Just put us in suites. I don’t carewhere.”

“You say that now…” There’s more keyboard clicking from her side of the backseat. “Okay. I also added your tuxedo to your packing list. Can you think of anything else before I send this off to Mrs.Gray?”

“Put a pair of swim trunks in there. Don’t forget your suit. We’re going to be on thebeach.”

“You know, I don’t actually want to go to Florida. How about you go without me and tell me how itwas?”

“Pack a suit, Lauren. You’regoing.”

She growls. She’s the only one in my inner circle who’s divided over reaching the second round, because it means more travel and more chances to interact with Beacon, her ex. “Not many owners would make their players do a black-tie benefit forty-eight hours before the next round of theplayoffs.”

“It’s pretty unusual for our players tomakethe second round of the playoffs,” I point out. “They have to shake some hands for a couple of hours. They’ll survive. It’s for a goodcause.”

“Why are we doing thisagain?”

“Alex and I had a playoffs bet. My team made the playoffs, and hers didn’t, so she has to donate $1 million to charity. The black-tie event is to try to help her match it with other rich people’s money inFlorida.”

Lauren considers this strange explanation. “But what were you going to do if youbothmade the playoffs? Or neitherteam?”

“We’d probably split it. Or get drunk on really expensive champagne and wonder why we’d invested in sportsteams.”

“Because you love hockey?” Laurenguesses.

“Because hockey is everything.” I grew up in Iowa but was born in Minnesota. Hockey is in my blood. There may be other reasons I want to win the Cup, but I don’t talk about thosealoud.

The car picks up speed. And a couple of minutes later we finally enter Manhattan on the FDR. “I’m dropping you off at home,right?”

“Yes, please. But I’ll rally after a couple hours. Do you want me to meet you at the office? I will, so long as you realize it’s Sunday. So I’ll probably whine aboutit.”

“Save yourself the trouble. I’m not going into theoffice.”

Lauren gives me the side eye. “Then why are we sharing a cab into Manhattan? Are you lost? Brooklyn is over there.” She points out the passenger-sidewindow.

“I’m headed downtown. Near City Hall. Rebecca has that appointment with thespecialist.”

Answering the question was a bad idea, though. Lauren is about to feast on me now. Her eyes have an evil glow, and her smile turns feral. “You have 2000 employees. Do you go to all of their doctors’appointments?”

“Obviously not. That would be both time-consuming andawkward.”