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MATTHIEU

Earlier in the day…

“What just happened out there on the ice?!”

M atthieu flinched.

He wasn’t happy with how it went at practice today, and the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he grew. That puck sailed right between his knees like he wasn’t even there— and mentally – maybe he wasn’t.

He was bored, frustrated, and felt like he had more to give than being a backup goalie for Seattle. There were so many guys on the team that were so much better than him, and at this rate, he was never going to make a name for himself here. He wasn’t trying to be ungrateful or unaware of how freakin’ lucky he was, but something inside of him wanted more.

“Are you listening to me, kid?” the coach was yelling at him in front of everyone, arms waving, the papers on his clipboard ruffling from the exaggerated movements. “Those pathetic moves out there were no better than some green thirteen-year- old brat on the ice in a pair of ice skates belonging to his mommy !”

“Yes, sir,” Matthieu said quietly, trying to end the public humiliation in front of his teammates and winced as he saw their knowing looks. He had played awful today, but this team, this place didn’t offer the thrill, the opportunity that had been promised to him. Maybe someday it would… but only if he played better.

“Get your head out of from between your cheeks and focus on the ice, pretty boy – you hear me? Focus, Larsson, or you’ll be playing somewhere else !”

And there was silence surrounding him.

Coach didn’t make threats like that lightly, and his job was on the line. Everyone now knew he was treading on thin ice, precariously close to being cut from the team or benched for who knows how long.

Yeah, his chances to advance here were going up in smoke, disappearing before his eyes – and all of them knew that once the coach was fed up with you, things would get infinitely harder before being cut.

“I want to see you give everything at the next practice – or don’t even show up,” Coach snarled at him, shoving his finger in his face and holding his gaze. The man’s eyes were flashing with anger and disgust as he stared at Matthieu before stomping off.

Matthieu just stood there, slightly stunned and resigned. He was going to need to talk to his agent about placing him somewhere else.

Fast.

“Get out of here and think about your career between now and Tuesday,” the coach huffed, leaving them all reeling.

As Matthieu turned, he saw their faces and expressions, and didn’t say a thing. He changed, ignored everyone, and simply left the building. This group of guys wasn’t a family, a team, or friends. They were coworkers and barely that at times. He felt like he was shoved onto the stage, being told to win an Oscar without being given a script, and the only thing saving him was the memory of having watched this particular play once on television. It was not a warm or welcoming feeling.

Sliding into his car, Matthieu was beyond frustrated and a little disgusted. He was busting his butt to fit in, drinking protein shakes, exercising, heck – he even went vegan for a while with one of the other guys hoping that they could grab a meal together or hang out, but that wasn’t the case. He fell hard off that particular ‘wagon’ with a massive tomahawk steak that gave him indigestion for hours… and gnawed the bone with delight.

“I’m getting a burger,” he muttered, starting his car and waiting for his phone to connect so he could call his agent. “I big ol’ greasy, artery-clogging burger with cheese on it…” he continued, punching the number almost immediately as he backed out of the parking garage.

Thankfully, Fallon answered on the first ring.

“Were your ears burning Matthieu?” Fallon said easily – and Matthieu smiled. Man, Fallon was a fantastic agent… and a flirt. The only problem was that the woman was nearly sixty and a little too crass for his tastes. He liked his girls a lot quieter and a lot less aggressive.

“Nahhh, just wanted to talk to my favorite girl.”

“Please – you don’t have to lie to me. What’s going on? I’m glad you called because I want to run a little something past you.”

“I’m not happy,” Matthieu said bluntly. “I don’t fit in. I don’t get along with the guys. I know I sound like I’m whining or like I’m some brat – I get it – I’m lucky, but I was hoping for more of a team atmosphere, more of a chance to be part of something greater, or…”

“Well, then I’m glad you called,” Fallon taunted and then paused. “How serious are you about a change?”

“I called, didn’t I?”

“Well, I do have an opportunity for you – and it’s immediate. Do you know Dustin Lafreniére from the North Texas Coyotes?”

“I don’t know him – but I know of him. Why?”

“Well, he just signed as the backup goalie for a new hockey team that…”

“What?” Matthieu interrupted and nearly rear-ended another car at a stop sign, completely distracted. He turned and pulled into the first parking lot he could – which happened to be a little fifties diner, and he could already imagine the taste of a burger from some old, grease-laden grill. The thought alone had him salivating. “What new team? Why would they sign him as a backup goalie when he’s a starter for the Coyotes?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t get all the details, but I just got off the phone with their manager, and they are eyeing you for a starter position as the goalie.”

“ME?” he nearly squawked aloud sounding distinctly like a chicken or a rooster. “Did you say they wanted me to be their starting goalie?”

“You’d mentor and train with Lafreniére – and he would be your backup on the ice.”

“What’s the catch?” Matthieu asked openly, not hesitating. “There’s gotta be a catch. They want me as a starter? Have they seen me play? I mean, I don’t suck, but I’m sure not as skilled as several other guys and…”

“Matthieu…” his agent interrupted, chuckling. “Of course, there is a catch – which is why I asked how serious you were about this gig.”

“I’m very serious.”

“You must be. You haven’t asked about pay yet.”

“Pay doesn’t matter if I can’t handle the catch.”

“Mature at twenty-five years old… heaven help the female population,” the older woman sighed dramatically in obvious envy. “I wish my first – or second – husband had the sense you seem to have regarding priorities.”

“And the catch?” he reminded her, chuckling. “What’s the catch, Fallon?”

“Are you married, honey?”

“Yes,” he blurted out the lie, distinctly uncomfortable at the sudden change after hearing about Fallon’s other husbands.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed happily, and he could hear the relief in her voice. “Then there is no catch. You can take this offer, and I think you’ll like it. It’s all moving expenses, an endorsement contract, and a nice seven-figure salary per year for the next five years…”

“What?” he did a doubletake. “The catch was I had to be married ?”

“Yes. Less drama, less problems. You won’t be in the news for all the other immature problems that come with boys, their toys, and too much money… they are only signing married men.”

“But Lafreniére isn’t married.”

“He got married yesterday to his long-time sweetheart – whom no one has ever heard of, so I think he did it to land this contract…”

“Oh my gosh.”

“That was my thoughts too – and the word on the streets is that he’s not alone. Jett Acton just did the same thing, and Kenneth Salas.”

“Holy Cannoli – those are some big names.”

“They want the Stanley Cup … this year.”

“I’m in,” he said hoarsely. “I’m in, Fallon. Sign me up, tell me what you need, and where I need to go…”

“Perfect. I’ll send the contract over, some houses in the area that I think you’ll like, and I will make the deal as soon as you send over a scanned copy of your marriage license. They will need it for the contract. Do you want me to try negotiating for more money or anything?”

“You said seven figures?”

“Yes – and an endorsement.”

“Nope,” he chuckled. “I’ll take it.”

“Perfect – we’ll chat soon,” Fallon said happily. “Oh – and keep this to yourself for now until they are breaking the news, my little green bean. I don’t want them cutting you before I’ve got you squared up. Trust your little Fallon to take care of you.”

“I do – and thank you.”

Hanging up the phone, Matthieu smiled and leaned his head back against the headrest feeling such relief in his soul. This was going to be great. He had heard such good things about the other goalie, and some of the names Fallon was rattling off were known in the community for being excellent players – plus both Salas and Acton had a reputation. Once they took you under their wing, then you were part of their group. He wouldn’t be on the outside, the young kid trying to fit in, and he would be starting…

His eyes shot open.

“Oh no…” he whispered, remembering what he’d said. “I told her I was married, so she didn’t get all weird – but that was the clause in the contract. I’ve gotta find someone to marry me, and I don’t want to get married.”

He immediately called Fallon back.

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind already?” she answered pointedly. “I just accepted the contract verbally, and the ball is already rolling. Their attorneys are on top of things, and with the first game in a month, we are moving like mad.”

“Oh…eh, um… I was going to ask how fast we knew this was a sure deal, because I’d like to start training and practicing with Lafreniére as soon as possible – and it’s going to take me a few days to get my marriage license out of storage ,” he fibbed, hoping that it worked. “We put it in a box in storage for safe keeping because we’ve been talking about getting a house instead of the apartment and well…”

“Days? No, that won’t work,” Fallon said openly. “I’ll call them back, and you can give them a copy when you show up in Quebec.”

“Oh. Wow. Quebec? I didn’t even ask where I was going…”

“Yep. New team, new location and you’ll love it. Does your wife have a passport?”

“Yeah,” he said weakly, his mind racing. Who did he know that could pull this off and bail his butt out of this problem.

“I need to get this taken care of,” Fallon said simply, reassuring him. “Hang onto your hat and break the news to your honey tonight. I’m betting we announce it in the next day or so because they are moving quickly, and with the season starting soon, they’ll want to hit it hard and heavy with some long practices or such… whatever you hockey boys do, you know?”

“Yup,” he said weakly. “Us hockey guys and our wives…”

“Congratulations, sweetie! I’m so excited for you.”

“Me too,” and he couldn’t help but notice how less enthusiastic he was than his agent. Ending the call once more, his stomach gave a hard rumble, and he looked up at the diner again. He needed to eat something… just so he could throw it up later when the panic attack hit him right between the eyes.

T en minutes later, Matthieu’s entire life was changing and careening wildly out of control. He was now staring at a stranger, saying things he never imagined. The woman driving his car was in a state of sheer panic, and he was praying that she didn’t start screaming for the police or something. That was the last thing he needed. They both needed to think, talk, and calm down after the last few minutes… and he was still hungry.

“Pick a place. Drive me to wherever you feel safe or want to go, and let’s talk—because now I think I need your help, too,” he began, trying to keep her from bawling again because tears just made him feel like the biggest heel and he was only trying to help.

He handed her a few napkins from the glovebox as she put the expensive car into reverse.

Please don’t wreck it…

Please be careful…

“What’s your name?” Matthieu began and saw her look at him nervously. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I do want to have a conversation. Are you hungry? I’m starving. Where is some place you like to eat – my treat.”

“McDonald's has a…”

“No,” he chuckled. “I would kill for a burger right now, but…” and saw her flinch. “Oh. Um, bad choice of words. I’m sorry. I’m just starving right now and after the morning I’ve had – I want the biggest, nastiest, meatiest…”

“Meatiest?” she interrupted, laughing tearfully. “Is that a word?”

“I want the meatiest and cheesiest real burger in the universe,” he chuckled, looking at her carefully with a watchful eye. “Do you know someplace good?”

“Harry’s,” she admitted slowly and looked at him. “The burgers are like eighteen bucks, but they are worth it. I can make one last for two meals and…”

“It’s my treat,” he replied again. “Let’s eat and talk.”

She nodded, pushed up her glasses, and glanced at him.

“I’m Jeannie.”

“Matthieu,” he said simply, watching her carefully. There was nothing extraordinary about her with that white T-shirt, blue jeans, and cropped hair, but when you put it all together, she was pretty in a plain, sedate sort of way.

“And you’re sure about Harry’s Burgers?”

“Yup – and I hope they have onion rings.”

“Oh my gosh,” Jeannie sighed, rolling her eyes. “Do they ever…”

“Then yes – let’s go.”