Page 18 of Puck My Life

Ironically, the boys actually spend hours and hours practicing and work really hard to be good players; it just doesn’t translate to the games.

Marilyn’s mission presses at me, and I rapidly come up with a plan, figuring out how to get this done.

There’s one thing I will always put first, and it’s them. They can hate me if they want, but I’m going to make sure they can keep their dreams.

Vae

PAST

Maria walks down the line, looking like a general from one of those war movies. Her dark brown eyes narrow, and her high heels clack when they hit the lino. I love that sound, though I will never tell her.

We’re supposed to be scared, but I can’t find even an iota of fear in me. Deacon reaches out and clasps my hand. I reach for Mal’s. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him grab Raynor’s.

We are a united front.

She doesn’t miss it, and, I swear, I see her lips tilt just a fraction before she firms them and snarls.

“Which of the four of you did it?”

I keep my eyes straight ahead. Don’t laugh, Vae. Do not laugh.

“Which one of you did it!” she roars.

My lips twitch, and she zeros in on it like a bloodhound.

“Vae!”

“Yes, madam?”

“You did it?”

I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile from peeking through. Maria gives us no love, but she doesn’t treat us badly either. She gives us what she can, and I love her anyway. She is my mum, even though I will never say it out loud.

“I’ll never tell!” I say like it’s a war cry.

She stops, turns on her heels, clicking them together, and bends so her face is at the same height as mine.

“You will live to regret your decision, child.”

I smile back, completely unafraid.

PRESENT

The contract arrived in my email early this morning. I’d read through the points carefully. It was suspiciously detailed. Enough that I sat for a while having the worst case of second thoughts.

I need to quit my job because I’m now employed by Marilyn on a very basic salary, but I don’t need much. My sole job is to get Deacon and Malcolm to grow up. This is underscored by a very specific list. Arriving on time. Attending and behaving in a professional manner at club events and venues, including on the ice. Maintaining clean uniforms and hygiene. Sticking to club rules, including no partying, drinking, or brawling. To adhere to their strict diets. Showing empathy and consideration for other people and learning to work together with the rest of the team.

It’s a short list. There’s only seven items on it. Seven totally and completely normal requirements that should be easy to reproduce in my best friends.

It seems like an impossible task. No, it is an impossible task.

I almost turned it down, but the first three months of rent at the apartment are mine, regardless, with no stipulations on where I choose to live. I don’t need to get Deacon and Malcolm to accomplish all of them, just most of them. But if I can achieve this miracle, I will get a bonus that is substantial enough that it could be the deposit I need to start my little bakery dream, that would have me self-sufficient and able to support myself.

Ironically, my contract isn’t with the Scented Scorpions; it’s with Marilyn herself. Which makes me nervous, though I can’t say why.

There’s also a brochure for an omega matching centre, where I can go to request an alpha to help with my heat. Or, like she offered before, a brief write-up on Jansen, an alpha she is friends with who is good in these kinds of circumstances.

Just thinking about it gives me the ick.