Page 2 of Playoff (Toronto Blaze #4)

There's a trade?

Jess

I came to the Top Shelf tonight because of the PAC. I’d planned to join them at the bar after the hockey game, since I needed to get caught up on my book club reading and I only went to games occasionally.

When it was time to go, I’d been tempted to cancel, because it had been an epically bad day and I didn’t feel like being social.

I wanted to huddle up in my bedroom and shut my brain off.

I was partway through this month’s reading selection, but tonight I’d take a thriller.

Or maybe a paranormal romance. Something as far away from my regular life as possible.

But the PAC—Player Adjacent Club—was different. This was a group of women who were connected to hockey players, but not the usual WAGs. They’d become my closest friends in the city. For them, I'd bundle up against the cold Toronto January winds and trudge to the bar with my happy face on.

The players the club referred to were hockey players on the Toronto Blaze, one of two NHL teams in the city.

I was adjacent because my twin brother played on the team, not my romantic partner.

Justin and I shared a condo and spent as much time together as wives and girlfriends did, but sisters weren't usually considered as important to a player. Except for the PAC.

The PAC was new—it had started earlier this season when two of the players’ girlfriends, Jayna and Callie, had invited Katie, studying post-graduate math, to join them as nontraditional WAGs.

They’d thought she was dating Ducky, one of the team’s top forwards, but at that point they were only friends.

I appreciated their loyalty, since I was the only non-girlfriend in the group now. Plus, they were terrific women.

I'd moved to Toronto after Justin was traded here. He'd been through a lot in New York before the trade, and I’d just finished my degree at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia. After his sacrifices for the family, totally unappreciated by our parents, I wanted to provide him support. My twin was a social turtle, even more so after all that had happened, and I’d intended to coax him out of his shell.

Five years later, we were still roommates, his social life consisted of me and his teammates, and he still spent most of his time in that shell.

I sometimes wondered if I was helping him or enabling him, but I couldn’t discuss it with anyone because I couldn't share his secrets.

Last fall, when the team was in the finals, I'd hoped that winning the Cup would maybe give him the boost he needed to become the guy he used to be.

But the Blaze lost. The team, including Justin, still wasn't over that.

Problem for the future—I had enough for today. I climbed up the steps from the subway and huddled into my coat as I walked toward the bar.

Once I stepped inside, into the warmth and out of the biting wind, I found Katie and Ducky sitting at the back, at the tables the players normally occupied

Ducky had injured his knee last month, needing surgery. He wouldn't be playing again this season. He insisted that made him player adjacent and qualified him for the club. Somehow we'd swallowed that argument and let him hang out with us. Sometimes.

I stopped at the bar to ask for a glass of wine, and checked the time.

We had an hour or so before the game ended and the rest of the team would show up.

Then the bar would be packed and we’d have steady table service.

I brought my wine over and sat by Katie.

"Hey, you two. How was class?" She'd been teaching tonight, which was why she hadn’t attended the game in person.

She rolled her eyes. "Don’t ask. I get it—it's a general requirement course and these kids aren't math majors. But they should suck it up and not take it out on me."

Ducky tightened his arm around her shoulders.

"You didn't go to the game?" I asked him.

He looked down at the table, where underneath his leg was in a brace. "It's hard."

I nodded in sympathy. It wasn’t just the crutches. Ducky had been our top scorer before he was injured. Watching the team struggle while he felt guilty that he wasn't helping had to be tough. I was the same with my twin, when he was suffering and I could only watch.

Before I had a chance to share about my shitty day, Jayna and Callie arrived. Callie sat across from me. Katie was a little younger, but Callie was about my age, with bright red hair and freckles. She was dating Cooper, captain of the team.

Jayna was dating Braydon Mitchell, the team backup goalie, but she never forgot she was a player herself.

She’d had to retire from playing because of a knee injury, and I wondered how tough it was for her to see Ducky and be reminded of what had happened.

It was probably the same for Ducky to see her, wondering if that was his future.

Tonight, Callie and Jayna were tied up with work commitments that kept them late, so none of us had been at the game.

I liked hockey, but I didn’t go very often since I preferred that most of the people I met didn’t realize my brother was a hockey player for the Blaze.

Too often then I was no longer a person, just a conduit to him.

There was the usual bustle of finding seats and ordering drinks.

We hadn’t seen each other for a while, so there was lots to catch up on.

Callie was debating whether she wanted to stay at her firm or accept an offer from a competitor.

Jayna was busy with her new responsibilities, not sure if it was time to take on extra staff.

Katie was excited about finally making progress in her research project now that she wasn't tied to a misogynistic advisor.

I didn’t say much. Today I'd gotten word that my favorite client had passed away.

I had a lot of senior clients, so it wasn't shocking, but it still hurt. More than I’d expected.

That news, coming on top of a couple of meetings that should have been emails and some criticisms about my low-risk investment strategies for my clients, had combined to make it a miserable day.

Ducky and Jayna’s glances flicked over to the TV, where the Blaze game was playing. I didn’t have to look to know the Blaze weren’t winning—their expressions gave it away. I wasn’t the only one struggling tonight.

Justin wasn’t going to be happy. None of the team would be.

“Jess, what’s up with you? You’re quiet tonight.”

I mustered up a smile for Katie. “Work was, well, work. Then I found out at the end of the day that Mrs. Garvin died this week.” Before they could ask, I explained.

“She was my favorite client. You know how sometimes you just click with someone? It was like that, even though we were decades apart in age.”

“Sorry to hear that, Jess.” Katie had heard me talk about Mrs. Garvin.

I huffed. “And now her son will inherit everything. I’ve never met him, but from what she hinted, that won’t be enjoyable. She didn’t quite say it, but I think he’s an asshole.”

Mrs. Garvin and I had shared a lot. It had been nice to talk to someone who knew who my brother was but didn't care. Thankfully, Johnson was a common last name, and most people didn't realize that my twin was the player known as JJ.

Jayna and Ducky gasped, then raised their hands, big smiles on their faces. I turned around to check the TV and saw a replay of a goal—Cooper assisting Deek. While we were talking the Blaze had managed to break the tie, so if they could hold on to this lead, they'd have a win.

The noise level at the bar dropped as almost every patron, and most of the staff, were glued to the screen for the last three minutes of play. Petrov blocked everything thrown at the Blaze goal, and the final buzzer rang.

The mood in the bar lightened. The Blaze had been struggling all season, but after winning a hard-fought game against Minnesota, the team that’d beaten them for the Stanley Cup, they had finally shaken off the finals loss.

They’d started winning games, but Ducky’s injury had been a blow to the offense.

Every win counted as they tried to make it into the playoffs again. They’d been pulling through, but I wasn’t sure they could keep this up without their top scorer. At least tonight everyone was happy.

When the players finally started to wander into the bar later, they had that cocky swagger from a win.

They headed to the tables where we were already settled in.

I scooched my chair down to one end, Katie and Ducky to my left as the men gathered in the seats, smiling and relieved.

Everything was good, problems set aside until tomorrow.

Justin was stressed about a possible trade if management concluded that the season was a write-off and they decided to sell off some of their assets—players—to rebuild for the future. I was sure he wasn’t the only one.

Justin wasn't good at making friends, and it would unsettle him to be traded. And me—would I follow him again? Try to find a job in a new city? Would I be able to if he was traded to a US team?

I shoved the worry aside and smiled at my twin.

He looked at my glass of wine—second of the night—and raised a brow.

I shook my head. I didn't need any more. He passed on down the table to a free chair near Cooper. They were linemates, and Cooper was Justin’s closest friend.

He got along with Callie, and the four of us hung out together on free nights.

I wished Justin could also find someone… but that was a touchy subject.

“Hey, Jess.” Daniel Astrom, aka Fitch, sat across from us, in the seat Callie vacated when Cooper arrived.

Fitch was new to the team, traded in over the summer.

He’d roomed with Ducky initially, but bought a condo in our building earlier this month and had just moved in.

He and Justin carpooled today, and it looked like the two of them would be friends as well.

I was beyond thrilled that Justin had someone single, divorced and his age to hang out with, but it was another reason to worry about a trade.

“Do you need a lift back when we’re done here?”

I was pretty sure the clear liquid in Daniel’s glass was club soda, not vodka. Compared to some of the players on the team, he was mature. “That would be great.”

Katie and Josh were whispering, staring at his phone. I missed what they said, but Daniel heard something. "Who's traded?"

My stomach flip-flopped. Anything but that.

Royster leaned over. "There's a trade?"

"Shit, anyone got a message from their agent?"

I shot a glance at Justin. He reached for his phone.

Ducky yelled. "I did!"

"No, Ducky! We need you next season!"

He shook his head. "It's not me." That wasn't reassuring.

"Who is it?"

"I don't have any names. Allen says there's a trade, for a playoff rental. A goal scorer. That's all I know."

Allen was Ducky’s agent, and very well connected. If he said it, it was probably true.

"We could use someone to take your place till you're back, Ducky," Royster said.

Conversation jumped from potential trade acquisitions to who might be leaving the team. I kept my eyes on Justin till he set his phone down and shrugged. Not reassuring. If they were trading for a forward, were they willing to give up someone on defense, someone like Justin?

"I've got it!" yelled Crash. "Novak and Olsson for LA's Alek Denbrowski."

The noise of the bar faded and returned in waves as the name hit me. Denbrowski.

No. Way. Not him. Not here.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Justin swore, standing up and almost knocking his chair over. He winced at everyone staring at him in shock and turned away. "I'm hitting up the head."

He stalked off, but he wasn't coming back.

"You okay, Jess?" Katie asked.

I couldn't answer. I wasn't okay, but I also wasn't explaining. Not now. I needed space, quiet, and a chance to figure out how badly this was going to fuck up life for Justin and me.

I wanted to scream or hit something. “What a shitty day. Sorry to ruin the night."

I fled for the bathroom, escaping from the questions I’d have to answer. Later.