Page 18
CHAPTER 18
Rafferty
M y teammate Hendrix, a defenseman on the second line, is engaged to a woman named Stevie who happens to own a place called Jerry’s Lounge. It’s named after her grandfather, who opened the place, and she’s been running it since she turned eighteen. It’s become a more private type of hangout for the team. Often we’ll go across the street from the arena after a win and hang out at Mario’s in a VIP section the owners rope off. We’ll step outside the ropes and mingle with the fans, giving back to them because the Titans have the fiercest, most loyal fan base in the league.
But sometimes, we just want to be regular people hanging out. We don’t want to be famous hockey players who have to live up to a certain persona, so we gather at Stevie’s.
The patrons here are eclectic, ranging from bikers to old, retired factory workers. It’s as blue collar as you can get and our presence doesn’t seem to provoke the same frenzied excitement that we get at Mario’s. Here we can hang in the back near the pool tables and congregate around high-tops, egging each other on as we compete in billiards and darts, none of us being that great but having fun, nonetheless.
Since I joined the team, Atlas, North, King and I have often met up here for beers to relax and shoot the shit.
Tonight, we’re here to celebrate our win over the Montreal Wizards and the bar is alive with the buzz of victory. The chatter and laughter of teammates and their partners blend into a melody of celebration and the beer flows freely.
I sit at a large table surrounded by the people who make up our inner circle. Most important is Tempe, joining the gang for the first time to enjoy our post-win celebration. Also at our table is King, Willa, Foster, Mazzy, Atlas, North and my sister Farren. Nearby, Boone and Bain are engaged in a fierce battle of darts while Kiera and Lilly cheer them on. Camden and Danica are partnered against Hendrix and Stevie in a game of nine ball, but there’s nothing competitive about that scenario. Stevie is so good at the game, she could probably travel the professional circuit.
The game against the Wizards was a clincher, putting us solidly at the top of our division. But the highlight, at least for me, wasn’t just the win—it was scoring a short-handed goal that had the crowd roaring. Yet, as sweet as the praise feels, having Tempe here, wearing my jersey and cheering me on, adds a layer of happiness that victory alone can’t touch.
King lifts his glass, his booming voice cutting through the noise, “To Rafferty, for that sick goal and keeping us on top!”
“Didn’t know you could skate that fast,” Atlas teases.
“Bite me,” I snap back with a grin.
Glasses clink and I smile, taking a sip of my beer, looking at Tempe over the rim. She’s laughing at something North says and I don’t know what, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she fits in so seamlessly. Things have changed so fast, but after spending yesterday with her and her family to celebrate Christmas—with my own sister in tow—I realized that my feelings are very deep. I’ve never had a relationship that felt so right before, and it makes me think of the future in a different way.
Before, all I could see was my hockey career, how it could be developed and maximized. Now when I look forward, all I see is Tempe. Sure, I see hockey, but I can’t see it without her in my jersey, screaming for me as I race down the ice to score. Those are the moments I want every day and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them.
As the revelry continues, my mind wanders back to a quieter moment yesterday at Tempe’s house. While she and Farren were in the kitchen making hot chocolate, I sat with her mom in the living room. Natalie is an easygoing woman and rather than be suspicious of my motives, given the way I met her daughter, she’s charmed by the entire story.
“I haven’t seen Tempe happy like this in a long time,” she mused as she set one of the cookbooks I bought for her aside. I took the love seat adjacent to her.
“She’s been worried about you.”
“I hate being a burden to her,” she said sadly, waving her hand. “And now she won’t go back next semester. Thinks I can’t take care of myself.”
I glanced toward the kitchen, heard Tempe and Farren chatting, and leaned closer to Natalie. “Can you take care of yourself? You’re in a wheelchair.”
She nodded. “My doctor says I can progress to crutches in a few weeks.”
“But I imagine you’ll still need help.”
Natalie sighed in frustration. “I’m sure Cooper can manage—”
“What exactly would you need?” I asked, cutting her off.
Her cheeks reddened and she looked away.
“I’ll help you with whatever you need, Natalie. If it means getting Tempe back to school.” I understood at that moment I was helping to send my girlfriend far away from me, turning this into a long-distance relationship. But Tempe deserved to finish school and her mom deserved to be taken care of.
Her eyes came to me. “I’ll need help with certain things like bathing, getting dressed, moving around. Things Cooper really shouldn’t be helping me with. But that’s not your problem.”
“Natalie. I know I’ve only been around for a few weeks, but I care about Tempe—a lot. And what affects her, affects me. Now, I made a deal with her that if she would be my fake girlfriend, I’d pay her six thousand dollars, but she won’t take the additional five I owe her now that things have changed between us. I don’t agree with that but I respect it, so I’m not pushing her. But I can push you to take it.”
Natalie shook her head. “That’s too much.”
“I’m rich, Natalie,” I chided. “And besides, this money… it’s more than I’ll ever spend and ridiculous that she has to work herself to exhaustion when I’m offering help. If you accept it, Tempe can go back to school and you will be taken care of. You can hire someone to handle those needs for you, and if it costs more than that, I’ll pay for it.”
“Tempe won’t like it.”
“Tempe won’t know,” I countered, realizing I’d be lying to my girlfriend, but it’s something I can accept on my conscience. “You just tell her that insurance is covering it.”
The reluctance had been clear on Natalie’s face, torn between maternal protectiveness and the real need for help. “Rafferty, that’s generous, but…”
“But nothing,” I said with a smile, trying to ease her concern. “I’m in this for the long haul with your daughter. Helping you is helping her, and that’s all I want to do.”
Eventually, she accepted, her thanks warm but laden with the weight of the favor. We agreed to keep the details from Tempe, although I promised myself I’d tell her the truth at some point in the future.
Back in the present, the laughter and conversation around me pull me out of the reverie. I listen as Tempe talks with Willa, Farren and Mazzy, her laughter genuine, her integration into this group effortless. It’s moments like these that reassure me. Despite the rocky start with Tansy and the subterfuge, something beautiful has blossomed from it. Tempe fits into my world perfectly, her ease among my friends and their acceptance of her banishing any doubt that I’m exactly where I need to be.
North nudges me, passing a plate of wings. “Earth to Rafferty, stop mooning over your girl for a second and have some food.”
Grinning, I grab a wing, and look back to Tempe. She’s recounting something, her hands gesturing, her eyes bright. I think I might actually be falling in love with her.
The bar door swings open and I only know this because I happen to be looking that way. I’m shocked to see Penn Navarro come through. The scowl on his face is deep, his eyes glancing about. The other guys see him too and everyone goes still.
I’m not sure anything could shock us more than our teammate finally coming to hang out with us.
Penn came to the Titans in a massive trade deal over the summer along with me, Atlas and North. He is regarded by anyone who’s anyone to be the best player in the league and while we are a great team, we are led by his skills and prowess.
The only problem has been, since he put on the uniform, no one has been able to get close to him. He has declined all invitations to hang with us on an informal basis and only shows up to mandatory events. Even then, he stays to himself and always leaves early after making his appearance. No one has been able to get close to him at all and other than his skills on the ice, I can’t think of a single redeeming thing to say about him simply because he’s an unknown.
“Well, miracles never cease,” Atlas mutters under his breath.
King raises his hand when Penn looks our way and motions him over. I see clear indecision on his face and it makes me sad that he’s unsure about this. But then something flattens in his eyes and his mouth turns grim. His hands in his jacket pockets, he hunches his shoulders and looks to move our way through the crowd but rather than sidestepping two bikers standing near the bar and talking, he knocks into one hard. The man’s beer bobbles and shoots a spray up.
“What the fuck, dude?” the big biker bellows and pushes Penn in the center of his chest.
“Jesus Christ,” King snarls and jumps out of his seat so fast it topples backward. I follow along with every other player on the team.
It seems to happen in slow motion as we rush toward the altercation in progress. Penn barrels back at the biker, lowers his shoulder and catches him in his gut, driving him into a group of people sitting on stools. The biker’s friend jumps into the fray, grabbing Penn by his jacket. He hauls him backward and then his fist flies into Penn’s face. His nose takes it straight on and blood bursts from it.
A streak of something flies by me and I’m stunned to see Stevie with a baseball bat in hand. I’ve heard tales from Hendrix that when they first started dating, he’d been shocked by her brass balls, jumping into the middle of fights to stop them. I’m pushed out of the way as Hendrix follows his girl and just before she can reach the scuffle, he’s grabbing her arm and pulling her back.
By that time, me, King, Atlas and North are there. Not with any plan to jump in and give retribution to the man who punched Penn—although I’d do that in a heartbeat on the ice—but from preventing a free-for-all. While these bikers might be loyal to Stevie, they’re fueled by alcohol and it’s going to get ugly.
Penn throws a wild punch and as he’s swinging, King inserts himself, holding his arms out to keep the opponents apart. North and I position ourselves in front of Penn who’s wiping at his bloody nose and staring daggers at the bikers.
“Enough,” Stevie yells, rushing in with Hendrix protectively at her back. She points at the two bikers. “Ernie, Sam… please, just stop. Not in my bar, okay?”
Ernie points a shaking finger at Penn. “That fuck nut started it.”
“Maybe so,” Stevie says, glancing back at Penn. I can see the loyalty warring in her expression because he’s a Titan, but Ernie is her customer. “I’m asking you nicely to let it go. I’ll handle this.”
The grizzled man gives Stevie a curt nod and he and the other biker move farther down the bar.
Stevie then wheels around and bares her teeth at Penn. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ve suddenly determined it’s because you’re an asshole. You started that and they just defended themselves. Get out of my bar and don’t come back.”
Holy shit, that’s harsh, but admittedly… well deserved.
Penn doesn’t look contrite at all as he pushes past me and North, heading for the exit.
King races after him, Willa on his heels. She’s a doctor and can look at Penn’s nose at least. They disappear into the night with the swinging door shutting out the cold behind them.
“Okay, everyone,” Stevie calls out. “Excitement’s over. The next round is on me.”
There’s a rousing cheer and everyone starts talking and laughing again.
Everyone but my teammates. We’re all shell-shocked not only by Penn’s appearance but by his violence. It was so uncalled for and I can’t fathom what he was thinking. Maybe King will be able to talk to him.
We all wander back to our tables, but the jubilant mood is killed. Tempe meets me, her hand going to my chest. “What happened? Is Penn okay?”
I’m dumbfounded. “I have no clue what that was.”
“That dickhead suffers from an anatomical conundrum,” Atlas seethes.
“Anatomical conundrum?”
“Yeah, he needs to get his head out of his ass.” Atlas glares back at the doorway Penn just exited. “That was not cool. He not only put himself at risk—we can’t afford to lose him to an injury—he put us at risk too because we would have defended him in an all-out brawl.”
“Why is he like that?” Tempe asks softly.
“No idea.” I bend down, brush my mouth across her forehead. “But he’s definitely got issues. You want to get out of here?”
She nods, her arms going around my waist. “Sure.”
We return to our table to gather our coats and Tempe’s purse. Farren approaches, a fresh beer in hand. “You want to play some darts? I can grab Atlas or North and we can play doubles.”
“Nah. We’re going to head out.”
My sister glances over her shoulder, the rest of the team settling back down at tables and resuming games. “I think I’ll stay.”
I consider that for a moment, a streak of protectiveness rearing. I trust my teammates to look after her, but since she rode with me, that means she’ll have to Uber it home. I nab Atlas as he strolls by. “What’s up?”
“I’m heading out but Farren’s going to stay—”
Atlas holds out his palm. “Say no more. We’ve got her covered.”
“Thanks, man.” We clasp hands, exchange backslaps.
We make our goodbyes to everyone else. Hugs among the ladies, fist bumps with the dudes. As we exit the bar, we run into King and Willa coming back in. King has his arm around Willa’s shoulders as they both rushed out after Penn without their coats.
“Is he okay?” I ask Willa.
“As best I can tell. He wouldn’t let me look at his nose. Insisted he was fine.”
“Where did he go?”
“Got in his car and left,” King says, looking back down the block. “He wasn’t drunk though. Pretty sure of that. We tried to offer him a lift, but he wouldn’t take it.”
“Something needs to be done,” I say gravely.
King’s attention comes back to me and it seems as if he wants to say something that would throw some light onto the matter, but then he just shakes his head. “I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.”
We say our goodbyes, Willa reminding Tempe that she’ll see her on Thursday.
As we walk down the block to my truck, my arm around her shoulders to tuck her in tight to my warmth, I ask, “What’s going on Thursday?”
“The girls are getting together to watch the game,” she says.
We’ve got an extended road trip coming up, Thursday in Atlanta and then on to Washington Saturday. Luckily, we’ll be back Sunday, which is New Year’s Eve, and Foster and Mazzy are throwing a party at their house.
“I love that you’re gelling with the SOs,” I say.
“SOs?”
“Significant others,” I explain.
Tempe laughs. “Is that what I am?”
I give her a squeeze. “You’re more than significant.”
“So are you,” she says, and that right there is an admission by both of us that we’re in way deep.