Page 54

Gwen

“ I don’t like the teams I’m scheduled for, who wants to trade?” Arden made a face.

Of course she didn’t like her games. I’d worked hard on those schedules, too.

Arden was an alpha and our new EBUG. She attended Barwyn, which was a fancy humanities-based university and nearly as old as NYIT. Every bit of her screamed money and privilege.

After two years of being the only female EBUG, I’d been excited for there to be another. But so far all she’d done was complain.

“I like mine,” Tyler Yamato shrugged. Ty was an alpha and goalie for UNYC, and was friends with Austin and Windy. He was a good goalie–and knew it. The Boaters had drafted him, but he hadn’t been signed yet.

Today was day one of our two-day EBUG training as we prepared for the Knights’ pre-season to start, since we were there for those games, too.

We’d gone over rules and expectations. Marcel from HR took the time to teach us how to read a contract and go over ours. Sure, we worked for free, but this protected both us and the team.

The Knights needed to make sure we didn’t dip part way through the season when we got busy. It was also nice to know they couldn’t fire us because someone wanted to give their nephew the job.

Maryellen, who ran the community and educational programs, came in holding duffle bags. Technically, this was an educational program, not a prospect program.

“Here’s a little token of appreciation from us.” Maryellen gave us each a black and silver bag with Nat the Knight on it. We’d already gotten our EBUG shirts we had to wear sometimes.

“Ooh, Gwen, what did you pick for us?” Ty pulled out a heavy-duty black Knights’ hoodie with silver embroidery and a big pocket on the front. “This is nice. Though I still like that jacket you have from your first year.”

“Hoodies and PJ pants, are we twelve?” Arden pulled out the loose, black and silver plaid flannel Knights’ PJ pants I’d also chosen. They said New York Knights along one leg and had the logo on the thigh of the other.

Tyler gave me a look. “Oh, those aren’t for us. Thanks, Gwen. You know this will be Damien’s new favorite to wear to class every fucking day. They’re even his size, not mine, aren’t they?”

“I aim to please. Damien’s going to rock them.” I grinned. His boyfriend was with the New York City Ballet. I could see Damien wearing both the pants and the sweatshirt over his gear to company class every morning.

I’d chosen things I liked. As head EBUG, I got to pick.

Okay, maybe the pants would fit his boyfriend.

“Did you hear, Damien got promoted to soloist.” Tyler beamed. Those two were adorable together.

“He did? Amazing. I salute him.” Standing, I grabbed my ankle and pulled my leg over my head.

Ty laughed and took a picture.

Coach Kirov sighed at our antics, her hair up in her usual bun braid. “Get down on the ice. I want to see how hard everyone’s worked over the off-season.”

“Why did you give me the home opener?” Ty said softly, as we got our stuff. “Don’t you want it?”

“I’m going to the game, and I’m going to drink beer and have a great time,” I replied. Yeah, I was going to seize that rare luxury.

EBUGs could get called in to play for either team. As much as I wanted to play in a pro game, something about the Gears always made my skin crawl.

“Thanks. I got to play in a prospect tournament with the Boaters, and there was this player for the Motor City Gears that bothered me. Like I’m sure I’ve played with him before,” he told me.

“Oh? Maybe someone you played against as a kid?” I’d had that happen to me many times. We filed into the small upstairs locker room the EBUGs used.

“Maybe?” Tyler put on his shoulder pads. “I don’t know what his name is. We didn’t have names on our jerseys, just numbers, and his teammates called him toilette. They were assholes when I tried to talk to him. Sure, it’s the Gears, but really? He also wore a gaiter with a skull face on it the entire fucking time, like he was in one of the dark romances Damien reads.” He rolled his eyes. “I have no idea what he looks like, other than he has short blond hair and blue eyes. Oh, and is an alpha forward.”

I’d played a lot of blond alpha forwards with blue eyes and attitudes over the years.

“Castle was telling me about him being a dick–and the skull gaiter.” And not that good, apparently. “She was wondering if he was yet another Deloitte nepo baby. You know, toilette , Deloitte. ”

I laced up my goalie skates. The skates from my university were all nice and broken in. I was trying to use those for practice and save the ones from Tenzin for games. This morning he’d sent me a picture of a big fish.

Tyler frowned as he put on his own skates. “But I don’t know any Deloittes. I’ll send you the couple of videos I took. Maybe you’ll know? Like I think it’s someone UNYC played regularly or something.”

“Um, sure?” I replied, not sure how I could help.

“Also,” his look grew pained as he put his pads on. “What happened with you and Austin? The entire team has been talking about how you cheated on him with Clark, then dumped Austin when he didn’t get signed. And that you’re the reason he hasn’t talked to anyone all summer, not even Windy, disconnected his phone, and deleted his socials.”

Here we go. I sighed.

His frown deepened. “I know Clark has a crush on you, but he doesn’t seem the type that would move on another alpha’s girl. I know how much you loved Austin. It was clear in all those lunches you made him for away games and how you pinned notes to his lucky socks.”

“Look, I didn’t cheat on him. I haven’t heard from him since the night he didn’t get signed. All I know is that his dad was making him come home, be part of his family’s business, and mate an omega chosen for him. We had a big fight, because I knew nothing of this, and I hoped we could still make everything work, maybe convince his dad to give us more time.” I rubbed my scar absently and tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Things got… heated. I dumped him and left the apartment. When I came back, he’d moved his stuff.”

Ty blinked. “I thought his dad was dead?”

“Me, too.” I sighed, still rubbing my scar. “I don’t want to get into it. Our breakup had nothing to do with cheating, lying, or him not getting signed. I don’t want him back.”

“Okay.” He frowned at my head.

“Get down to the ice,” Coach Dodd called from the doorway. He was one of the assistant coaches who helped with us EBUGs. He didn’t travel with the team, so he ran our practices when everyone else was away.

We put guards on our skates, took the elevator down, and made our way to the ice.

The three of us warmed up, and by then we had an audience. Constantine was in the stands. Dean was there, too, and gave me a silly grin, Jonas with him.

Excitement built inside me.

“Ready for us, Coach?” Grif Graf stood there with Nia, geared up and ready for practice.

“Yep. Some people think that the EBUGs need more time fielding pucks from the forwards.” Coach Kirov gave me a look. It’s something I’d brought up.

“Ladybug, you’re first. Grif Graf is going to shoot pucks at you,” Coach directed. “Don’t go easy on her. Pretend she’s Double D.”

“Yes, Coach.” Grif nodded.

I adjusted my mask and got ready. Grif Graf fired puck after puck at me. Like Coach instructed, he didn’t hold back.

He also shot hard, which was why I’d asked Coach Kirov for this. The PHL forwards shot harder than collegiate ones. Grif Graf was the best forward in the PHL right now and one of the hardest hitters.

I leapt, slid, and full butterflied, as both Coach Kirov and Coach Dodd pointed out all my flaws, using me as a teaching tool. I didn’t listen too hard, since I had to focus on the puck. Maybe someone recorded it.

Sweat dripped down my back. It was hard work and Dean would have an easier time stopping most of these, due to his size. Each time I let a puck in, Arden smirked or made a noise or comment.

However, this was Grif Graf. I didn’t let that many pucks in. If I were getting tacos for every blocked shot, I’d be good for weeks.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Coach Kirov directed. “Good job, Ladybug. Someone has been working hard all summer. Thanks, Grif Graf. Ty, you’re up with Nia.”

I plopped down by my things and got my sticker-covered water bottle out of my bag. Shit, that was a good workout. Coach Dodd caught my eye and grinned. He was older, with white hair, and reminded me of my Gramps.

“Good job. I recorded everything for you, so you’d have Coach’s notes,” Dean told me. “Jonas is recording Ty. He needs to get serious if he wants the Boaters to sign him.”

“Thanks. I’d like to do that more. I think you and Grif Graf are so good partially because you have each other to work off of,” I told him honestly.

Dean thought for a moment. “Huh. Possibly. You need to work on control and holding back. You play every game, every practice, like you’re playing for your life. Smarter, not harder. Your joints will thank you in a decade.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “Dean, I’m a beta. I’m always playing for my life.”

Ty let in more pucks than me, though he wasn’t bad. Arden was next, facing off against Grif Graf. I had to admit, she was good–and smooth. She still let in more pucks than me.

Not that I was counting.

“Gwen, when did you get good?” Ty joined us, hair sweaty, a perplexed look on his face.

“Why do you UNYC asshats think I sucked my way to two national collegiate titles? Yeah, I know, beta sports parity laws and shit, but that’s not why NYIT took me.” I rolled my eyes.

While we were on good terms, and used to hang out a lot back when Austin would bring me to things, I always considered him more Austin’s friend than mine.

Clark texted me and I texted him back, grinning.

Coach called me back up and repeated the exercise, only now Jonas was acting as defense, while Grif Graf shot pucks at me. Dimitri had arrived to help as well. We all took our turns. Finally, she dismissed us and reminded us we had more orientation tomorrow.

“All EBUGs, mandatory meeting in the dining room. It will be short. There are snacks,” I told everyone. “Double D, I need you, too.”

Dean gave me a mock salute, “Aye Aye, Captain Ladybug.”

We took off our pads and skates, grabbed our gear, and headed upstairs.

“You seem to know Double D well.” Arden gave me a look.

“This is my third year as an EBUG. You get to know some of them,” I replied, as I swiped my badge to let us through the door. “Oh, Coach didn’t mention this, but if you’re uncomfortable in the press box, you can get permission to sit with the MASOs instead.”

Arden’s manicured eyebrows rose. “Why would I be uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, you probably won’t have a problem with alphas pinching your ass and offering to help you with your career. I just wanted to throw it out there.” In the dining room, I plunked my stuff down on a chair and got out the bag with the necessary things.

There was a nice little buffet of snacks for us, including sports drinks, fruit, sandwiches, and other tasty options.

“Before we snack, we have to take care of important goalie business.” I took the bag and went over to the picture of Maria Barilla on the wall. I took a deep breath. Soon, I’d have to pass this on to someone else, like it had been passed on to me.

“This is Maria Barilla, New York Knight, Queen of the Goalies, and as the season begins, we always honor her with a sacrifice of noodles.” I took the noodle necklace I’d made last year off the corner and wrapped it around my wrist. “She was an EBUG once, too, which is why it’s our job,” I explained.

There was no formal program back then. It was literally a wait, the equipment manager’s daughter is a goalie and is here and it’s better than nothing sort of situation.

It had been her big chance to prove to all the teams that had turned her down that she could do it. Especially when the Knights signed her.

“Her sauce is reported to be almost as good as my nonna’s.” I added a cheesy grin. Out of the bag came noodle necklaces I’d made out of the star noodles from the treasure room, embroidery floss, and glitter.

Everyone stayed silent and respectful. Ty and Dean knew the drill, but even Arden didn’t make a snarky comment. You didn’t mess with goalie superstition.

“As the new season starts, we give you this offering of noodles and ask you, Queen of the Goalies, to guide us and help us both in and out of the net.” I hung the nicest and most sparkly of the necklaces on the corner of the picture. I think she’d like the star noodles and glitter.

“We ask to be steady, and fast, and patient.” I put a noodle necklace around everyone’s neck.

I took out the small container of pasta sauce and a single lasagna noodle I’d begged off the dining hall yesterday. “We ask to be as strong as you, to be good people, and good goalies.” Because she was also a nice goalie–well except to designationist assholes.

Taking the lasagna noodle, I put some sauce on it and used it to paint some on Tyler’s forehead. Then Dean’s. “Help us bring the sauce to every game.”

While Arden hesitated, she let me anoint her with sauce, using the lasagna noodle.

“The goalies are doing a goalie thing. Can you wait a moment before going in?” Grif Graf told someone, without a hint of teasing. Like even he understood the importance of this moment. I appreciated his respect.

I put down the noodle and sauce and got the bottle of Chianti out of the bag, which I’d already opened. “We ask this of you, our goalie queen. May we all have as many shutout games as you. In pasta we trust. Garlic toast.”

Taking a swing of Chianti, I passed the bottle to Ty, who took a drink, then passed it on. It made its way around the circle.

“All Hail the Queen of the goalies,” Dean said, bowing his head. He then looked over at me. “Thanks for including me.”

“Can I wipe the sauce off my head now?” Arden asked.

Tyler touched the sauce on his face, then tasted it. “You made the sauce from scratch again, didn’t you?”

“My nonna’s recipe.” I wiped the sauce off my head.

“It’s so good,” Ty told me. “If we get invited to any pre-season parties, will you bring some of your lasagna like you always do?”

“Yep.” It was my go-to dish.

For a moment, we all stood there, looking at the picture, passing the bottle back and forth.

“Is it safe for non-goalies to enter?” Grif Graf called.

“Yes, thank you, Gumdrop.” Dean wiped the sauce off his head, but not before tasting it and nodding.

Grif Graf, Jonas, Dimitri, and Nia came in. Their eyes flickered over the noodle necklaces and the bottle, but instead of saying anything, they headed for the snacks.

I downed a sports drink and gobbled a sandwich, then put another sandwich, drink, and some chips in my bag for later.

“Gwen, Ty, can I talk to you two?” Coach Kirov called from the doorway.

“Sure.” I came out into the hallway, trying not to be nervous, Ty following me.

Coach gave us each a pretty envelope. Like the kind Celine had given me to invite me to her and JP’s wedding, complete with a wax seal with the Knights logo on it.

“Here you go. Do either of you have Marcos’ address? I wanted to send him one, too,” Coach Kirov told us.

I opened up insta-chat. Marcos and I weren’t super close, but we’d been EBUGs together for two years and followed each other on social media. “I don’t, but I can get it. He’s already in Argentina with his new team.”

“Please.” She nodded.

Ty examined it, but didn’t break the seal. “What is this for? The gala isn’t until February.”

“We won the championship, which means we’re having a championship cup dinner for last year's players and staff,” she told us. “You three were there for us–especially with that whole double EBUG debacle in the finals. Gwen, you partially dressed out so many times. Not to mention ditching class to go to fucking Portland with us. Coach Dodd and I are proud of you. You, too, Ty.”

Aww, they were?

Someone had decided that for the finals, two EBUGs needed to be provided for each game. It had been insane, even with the regular collegiate hockey season over. Like when the Sasquatches noped out of providing a second and made it our responsibility to bring one to Portland.

“Wow, we get to go, that is amazing,” I breathed. Okay, I’d already agreed to be Clark’s date, but the fact that I got my own meant everything.

Maybe I could bring Tenzin as my guest. That would be fun. He looked good in a suit and was a great dancer.

“Let us know if you can come,” she told us, then left.

I sent Marcos an insta-chat. Too bad he probably wouldn’t be able to get back for it.

Ty had opened the envelope. “Damien is going to shit himself. It’s at the Harcourt. I’m going to see if he can snatch us tuxes from the costume room, because I only have suits.”

“Harcourt? Fancy.” I whistled.

Too bad I wasn’t going home anytime soon. My mom had so many dresses for things like this. Sure, I was six inches taller, but there might be something that would work, given she liked really high heels. But my blue dress from JP’s wedding would be fine. We returned to the dining room.

“Anyone want to grab a beer at Tito’s? Double D’s paying.” Nia laughed.

“I’ve got to go to work,” I replied, wishing I could go with them, as I put the invitation in my bag. Sure, I wasn’t overworking myself, but I still was doing shifts at the rink.

“Windy said they fired you from Tito's.” Ty frowned.

“I have other jobs, Ty. Bills don’t pay themselves. Don’t believe everything Windy tells you.” Both Ty and Windy had allowances from their parents and lived in the dorms, and went home for summers where they did fancy summer training. They never had to sell their things to pay bills. Ty, being a graphic arts major, did some work for Carlos’ brother-in-law’s print shop. But that was beer money.

“Windy. Like hoodlum, Windy?” Jonas gave me a look.

“Yep. Anyhow, this has been fun. See you later.” I grabbed my stuff and headed down the hall. I was working at the skate counter for warehouse skate tonight.

“Ladybug, wait up,” Constantine called. “You look good out there. All that work this summer paid off.”

“Thanks.” I hadn’t seen him or been by to feed Maddox all week. “Did you enjoy our orientation?”

“I did. Thanks for inviting me. Keep up the good work,” he added. “You’re still okay with a safe place to stay?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks.” It was nice that he checked in.

He nodded. “Good to hear. Um, you admire Maria Barilla, right? Someone told me that it was evident in your playing.”

“I do.”

He leaned in. “We’re honoring her this year. Trying to decide if we take her number out of rotation or not.”

“Wow, that is quite the honor,” I replied. PHL goalies seldom wore the number 0 anymore, mostly wearing 1, 30, and 31. However, EBUGs were always 00. Sometimes female or beta goalies choose 0 as a token of respect. I did. So did Molly of the Belugas. before she came out as an omega, she’d hid as a beta.

“You’re an accounting major and this is your last year, right? Do you need an internship?” he added.

“I’m going to be doing it with the rink accounting department.” Not really forensic accounting, but my advisor was letting it count, which was nice. Not to mention, I got paid and class credit.

“I’ll pay you more,” he added.

I laughed. “You can’t. Even a paid internship with you is against the NACA rules. It’s why you give us EBUGs coupons for the food court and subway codes when we’re on duty, instead of per diem. We don’t even get paid if we play, we just get to keep the jersey.”

“Oh.” His look grew thoughtful. “Yet, you can work at the rink and do Squire camp? Curious since I didn’t play collegiate athletics. I did theater.”

“The rink is its own entity and is classified as an entertainment facility, not a professional sports team, so there’s no issue with me working there. The foundation running the camp is also a separate entity and classified as a non-profit,” I replied.

It was a little weird and complicated, but I always did my due diligence. I didn’t want to lose my collegiate athlete standing, because I accidentally violated a rule.

“I see. Well–”

“Constantine, where are you? Do you know what those fuckers did–” Mr. Longfellow came down the hallway and stopped abrupt. The alpha GM was older and, as usual, wore a nice suit. He gave me a puzzled look, but his alpha scent was pure panic. “Excuse me, but I need Constantine.”

Hopefully nothing was too wrong.

“Of course. Have a great day, Mr. Longfellow. You, too, Constantine.” With a wave, I headed down to the rink staff locker room, stowed my things, and put my uniform on. Time to go to work.