Page 7 of Playoff (Toronto Blaze #4)

We're hockey players

Alek

I set an alarm for morning, which came far too early.

The time change was going to be a bitch to adjust to.

At least I’d slept well after an excellent round of sex with the sweet-looking brunette.

Cursing a few times, I got up when the annoying sound went off and showered.

Living on the West Coast meant that most away games involved adapting to a different time zone, so it wasn’t something new.

Once I was out of the shower and checked my phone, a lot of notifications popped up.

Messages from the Blaze, including that the team captain, Cooper, would pick me up for practice—I checked the time—shortly.

The practice was “optional,” but as the new guy, I needed to be there.

I wasn't sure if Cooper had come up with this idea on his own to be nice, or if he had been assigned babysitting duty by the team.

I was also now a member of a group chat including all the players on the team. Not my thing, but I didn’t know anyone in Toronto anymore, and hopefully I could at least get recommendations on places to eat and maybe a lead on a rental from my new teammates.

There was also something from PR. Press outlets wanted to speak to me, and they’d like to set up a time.

Fuck . If it was an introduction of the new guy, it would be bad enough after the illegal stick penalty in my last game, but my parents’ Ponzi scheme was going to come up.

The press had mostly gotten over that in the US, but this was Canada, where my parents had screwed people over.

They still asked about it when I was on press duty after away games up here, so they sure as fuck were going to ask now.

I convinced the PR people to put it off for a day to give me a chance to settle in without distractions. I could at least meet the team without that coming up first thing.

The Blaze needed scoring, since Josh Middleton was out, so I should be welcomed in the locker room.

But LA had gotten so little back in return for me that my apparent value was low.

Toronto was my fifth team, and I wasn't sure I'd have many other teams willing to take a gamble on me after this season if I didn’t do well.

Fucking Weasel. I’d been trying to improve my rep.

When I first made it in the league, signing a big contract, I’d partied hard, pushed some boundaries.

I was young and needed to let my frustration with my family out somehow.

I was older now, and I didn't fuck around as much. But that bet would bring up all my previous mistakes in people’s minds.

I didn’t want to add being late to my other perceived flaws, so I dressed and was ready early. I’d left the elevator in the lobby, trying to avoid contact with anyone, when the front desk clerk called, “Mr. Denbrowski!”

Fuck . People turned to look. I strode over. “Yes?”

I must have sounded angry, because his eyes rounded. “Um, I have a message for you.”

The team had been communicating on my phone, so the message wasn’t from them. I braced myself.

He passed over an envelope. My name was written on the outside, care of the hotel, no room number. I ripped open the seal, and after the first sentence, crumpled it into a ball.

“Thanks,” I told the clerk and headed outside the hotel to wait for my new captain. I shoved the letter into my pocket to show Agent Miller later. Someone my parents had stolen from wanted to be sure I knew they didn’t like me.

Fuck, it was cold here. I was blowing on my hands when Cooper pulled up in his Bentley. It was easy to recognize him—he was one of the top players in the league and had more endorsements than any other player I knew.

I'd bought a knit cap in the hotel shop, so at least my head wasn't freezing. Still, Cooper smirked when he saw my bare jaw.

"Get in, Denny. By the way, most people grow facial hair when they come to Canada instead of shaving it off."

I slid into his car, enjoying the heat inside. With a glance at him, I pulled off the hat.

He stopped smirking when he saw my shaved head. "What the hell happened?"

"I lost a bet."

“You need to be more careful about the bets you take.”

I shrugged and pulled on the hat. “Seemed pretty safe—use a teammate’s stick for a couple of shifts. Coaches don’t call for that to be checked.”

Understanding hit. “Bad luck, then?”

I tapped my thumb on my leg. “The guy I bet with told someone on the other team to make sure his coach called the illegal stick.”

He frowned. “And you still shaved?”

“Despite what people seem to think, I’m honest.”

“I’d heard things weren’t going well in LA, but shit, that’s bad. Was that typical, or did he have a beef with you in particular?”

This was not going to help my rep, but the news would spread after what happened in the LA locker room yesterday. “I hooked up with his sister.”

His eyebrows went up. “I understand why he was pissed.”

For some stupid reason, I felt like defending myself. “It happened a couple of months ago. We’d gone out, he hadn’t told me his sister was visiting, he left with some chick. And when someone came on to me, I didn’t say no.”

Silence. Why did I even try? I needed to forget everyone else, play my game, and keep my distance.

“You explained that to him?”

“Yep.”

“Hard to blame you if you didn’t know.”

Right? But not that hard for Weasel.

“The only sisters around that I know of now are Crash’s sister, who’s in high school?—”

“I don’t touch kids in school.”

“And JJ’s sister Jess, but she doesn’t hang out with the team much. Other than those two, you should be safe here.”

It wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but maybe he wasn’t going to hold it against me.

“You played with Fitch in LA, right?”

I nodded. “We overlapped for a year.”

“He’s a good guy.”

I nodded again. He was. We hadn’t been close—he’d hung out with the married guys, though I’d heard he was divorced now. Wasn’t sure what he’d say about me.

Cooper checked his rearview mirror before making a turn. “This team—it’s not like what it sounds like LA is. We aren’t going to hang you out to dry. We can be stupid, but we don’t do anything to risk the game.” He shot me a glance.

Right. My reputation. “Got it.”

He let the quiet settle for a moment to drive the point home, but then moved the conversation on. "Hotel okay?"

I shrugged. We spent almost half the season living in hotels. No one was excited about more time in one, no matter how nice it was. I wanted to move somewhere with more security, anyway, since I’d been tracked down by at least one of my parents’ victims.

"We could arrange for you to room with someone. While you get your feet, find out what you want on a more permanent basis. It'll help you settle in, learn the city."

"I grew up here."

"Oh, right."

He shrugged, glad to have signed off on his duty. I could try to be less of an asshole. "It's been a while though. Looks like there's been a lot of construction."

"They don't have enough cranes to keep up."

I nodded. We were quiet for a moment, but then the captain came out again.

He turned a corner, competent and familiar with the route. "This is a good team. We had some problems at the beginning of the year, but I think we've worked through that."

"What happened?" The whole league had been curious.

The Blaze had gone to game six of the Stanley Cup Finals, losing in overtime.

They kept most of the team intact, so expectations were high.

To say the team didn't meet them was an understatement.

They had the same skills, the same players, and couldn't find a win with a map and GPS.

But they had been playing better the last month or so, even after they lost their top scorer.

Last night had been their fourth win in a row.

They didn’t win pretty, but they did win.

"You saw the game last season, right?"

No need to ask which game. I nodded. Of course I'd watched.

"It spooked us. We talked to people after, sports psychologists, but we couldn't get past it till we'd played Minnesota again, Mitch in net. That did it."

"Ballsy move, putting the backup in after what happened."

Cooper smirked. "We're hockey players." Hockey was not a sport for the timid. “We were feeling good till Ducky was injured. I hope you can fill that hole. If we get to the playoffs this year, it’s going to be different.”

He sounded determined. Confident. If anyone could drag his team through, it was this guy. But there was a lot of hockey to be played over the next few months, and no guarantees. “I’ll do the best I can.”

Cooper pulled into the parking area of an arena.

The building was black, with red and yellow trim, team colors.

I’d played hockey in Toronto before, but always as a visitor.

I’d never been to this practice facility, only the one they used for games.

As I stepped out of the car, shivering as the cold hit, I gave it a close inspection.

I’d spend a lot of time here, unless I was traded again.

From the outside, it looked new and roomy.

Probably a lot nicer inside than the one in LA.

I followed Cooper to the building. He led the way through a door with a sensor, telling me I'd get a card for both facilities—parking and building access. I'd need a vehicle. My Lambo was still in California, but Toronto in January was not the place for it. Till then, I'd be cabbing.

Inside, the hallways were clean and spacious, and well labeled.

It wouldn't take long to find my way around.

Cooper stopped at a small conference room where the coach and assistant coach were making notes on a whiteboard.

I recognized them from playing against the Blaze in the past. They had a good reputation around the league, so there was that.

“Denny’s here,” Cooper said. The two men looked up, giving Cooper a warm smile and me a polite one.

“Alek Denbrowski, I’m Coach Osgood, and this is Coach Howell. Welcome to the Blaze.”