16. Lighting Those Matches
Chapter Sixteen
LIGHTING THOSE MATCHES
Is Drakos Lenkov spending more time partying and posting about his escapades on social media than he is on improving his game, which has been dismal of late? With dedication like that, it’s no wonder the Icehawks are currently on the outside looking in. —Aria from All Hockey News
~~Inez~~
Three days later, we’re on game two of a three-game road trip. Brian usually goes on road trips, but this time, he sent me. I’d have preferred to stay in Portland and put as much space as possible between Camden and myself, but I couldn’t very well explain why I preferred not to go to my boss. So here I am.
The guys won the first game in overtime. Dash scored the winning goal in the shoot-out. Tonight, we play Pittsburgh. They’re on a seven-game winning streak and will be hard to beat.
We’re four points out of a playoff spot, which equates to two games. With little over a month to make up the difference, we’re hanging in there, but the teams above us have been on hot streaks. We need a streak of our own.
In this league, a win earns two points. If the game goes into overtime each team gets one point, and the winner gets the extra point. It’s a weird system compared to other sports, which go off wins and losses rather than points.
I’ve seen Camden from afar, but we’ve been strictly professional and have avoided discussing what happened last Saturday night. That doesn’t stop us from staring longingly from across the room or accidentally brushing up against the other. I pray no one else notices this thing between us. So far there’ve been no innuendos or hints from staff or players.
Shelby’s doing okay. Whatever happened the night we gave her a ride home, she wasn’t any worse for wear the next workday. I wonder if Mr. B notices her secretiveness and unwillingness to open up about herself. He’s probably been too busy, and he’s never been one to involve himself in an employee’s personal life unless it affects their work. In her case, that could happen, especially if her husband becomes more jealous of her time at work. He loves the money she’s making, though. He’s a security guard for a local marina. Judging by the amount of time he spends texting Shelby, he either isn’t paying attention to his job, or there’s not much to do. I make a mental note to ask Michella to look into him, if she hasn’t already. If I know her, she’s probably amassed several files full of information.
Aria, after a brief hiatus, is back at it. I need to clear calendar space for that interview to do damage control before Drakos loses his shit.
The only other woman on this road trip is Muri Bates, our social media admin and our captain’s sister. She dates one of our promising young defensemen, Nolan Bellanger. I don’t know her well, though we’ve had a few meals together. Most of the time, I dine with the coaches or alone.
Tonight, I grab a quick meal at the arena before settling into my seat on the glass. Usually, I’m seated up above in a suite or with the video crew. Brian has asked me to check out a center on the Pittsburgh team, as he might be a possible trade option as we push for a playoff spot.
The teams haven’t come out for warm-ups yet. I’m busy on my iPad, checking out league news, especially other guys on waivers. There’s nothing that interests me.
“I’ve finally tracked you down. Are you avoiding me?”
I’m so lost in my own head I jump at the sound of Aria’s voice. “No, just incredibly busy. I didn’t know you were on this road trip.”
“Just flew in this morning.” Her gaze is calculating, and I remind myself that this woman can’t be trusted. “About that interview?”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m buried with work.”
“That’s okay, Drakos gives me plenty of fodder. Take your time.” She smirks as if she’s enjoying needling me. “But there’s an hour until the start of the game if you’d like to do this now.”
I sigh deeply, making it clear she’s inconveniencing me. “Fine, let’s find a private location.”
I’m more annoyed than I should be, but I’m disappointed I won’t get to watch warm-ups, particularly one player warming up. Yeah, I have it that bad.
Several minutes later we’re on the locker room level in an empty office. I settle behind the scratched metal desk, leaving her no choice but to take the folding chair in front of it. I study her as she prepares for the interview. I’m surprised to see her with a notebook rather than tablet.
“That’s old-school,” I point out with a bit of smugness. I’m completely digital. No paper for me if I can avoid it.
She shrugs, not the least bit offended. She really is pretty when she’s not scowling or wearing a calculating smile. Aria has this jet-black hair she wears loose, and these incredibly blue eyes. She’s dressed professionally in casual business attire, though I find her blouse to be a little too low in front and too tight. It really accentuates her curvy figure. I’m guessing that’s the point. I’m the first to admit that I’m prudish about business attire. I dress about thirty years older than I am.
No doubt Aria’s a go-getter, ambitious to a fault, and I question her ethics. She doesn’t appear to have scruples when it comes to getting her story or partially creating one. She should be a fiction novelist instead of journalist, then it’d be perfectly fine for her to make things up.
“Do you mind if I record this?” Aria holds up her phone.
“I do mind.”
Aria’s disappointment is palpable. “I won’t use it in any other manner.”
“The answer’s still no.”
“You don’t trust me.” She watches me carefully with those shrewd blue eyes that don’t miss a thing.
“Would you if you were me?”
She ponders my question for a long moment. “No.” She throws back her head and laughs. I’ve never seen her laugh before. I’m guessing there’s a lot of people who would say that about me. Laughter softens her face and makes her appear more vulnerable.
As much as I hate to admit it, Aria and I are a lot alike, but I have ethics. Hers are in question. I consult my smartwatch. “The clock is ticking.”
“You really don’t like me, do you?”
“I don’t like what you’ve written about my team, Drakos in particular, but I don’t know you personally enough to dislike you.” This is an out-and-out lie. I don’t like her, and we both know it. I’ve never been one of those people who loves everyone and sees the best in them. I tend to see the worst in people first, and then they have to earn my trust in order for me to see the best. Aria has never earned, nor will she ever earn, my trust. I’m stubborn like that.
“Fine.” She’s clearly pissy about my attitude, and I don’t care. She flips through her notebook until she finds some notes she’s scribbled. “When did you first realize you were in the running for the assistant GM job?”
“When they promoted me.” I’ve always been bluntly honest. Mr. B appreciates that about me, but in my new role, it’s not necessarily a favorable trait.
She narrows her calculating gaze. I prepare myself for some tough questions.
“You didn’t interview for the position? You must have impressive qualifications and credentials.”
I merely smile because I didn’t have anything of the sort.
Aria chews on the top of her pen and stares down at her list of questions. I lean forward slightly in an attempt to read them, but she covers them up quickly.
“Explain your previous position with the Icehawks that led to this unorthodox promotion.”
“It’s not exactly unorthodox.”
“Poor choice of words. Women in positions of power in pro hockey are few and far between. The organization didn’t open the position up to other qualified candidates and instead chose you.” She smirks at her thinly veiled insult.
“I’d been Mr. B, uh Barlowe’s, assistant for eight years.”
“He must think very highly of you to put you in such a position of importance.”
“Yes, he does.” I ignore the slight and smile sweetly, but I really want to wring her neck.
“You must’ve earned the promotion in some manner.” Aria’s insinuation is quite clear, and I don’t appreciate it.
“If you’re implying something inappropriate has happened between Mr. Barlowe and I, you’re dead wrong. He’s the grandfather I never had and my mentor. I’ve known him for years through his granddaughter, who’s one of my best friends.” I’m talking too much, and I shut off that line of conversation. I’m a private person, and my personal life is none of her business.
“I’m implying nothing, but you seem troubled by my questions, which has me wondering if they’re hitting too close to home.”
I allow myself the brief fantasy of booting her ass out of this arena never to set foot near the Icehawks again, but I don’t have the authority. Besides, I can imagine what she’d publish about me if I did that . I can do this. I can deal with this woman.
“We’re running out of time. If your only purpose for wanting this interview is to dig up dirt, let’s end it now.”
Aria and I engage in a stare-down. After several uncomfortable moments, she looks away and consults her pad.
“Tell me about your education.”
I dread questions like this. A good reporter does their research, and I get the distinct impression Aria already knows the answer. “I didn’t finish college, but I’m working on my degree right now.” This part isn’t 100 percent true, but I’ve been looking into it.
“Does lack of education impinge on your credibility with other staff? How does Brian Werkle feel about your unexpected promotion?”
She’s trying to trap me or piss me off. Why is it that women go after successful women in ways they never would with men? I decide to call her out.
“Here’s a question for you. Would you ask these questions of a man in the same position? Why is it when a woman rises in power in any organization, she must’ve done something unethical to get there? Why can’t I just be qualified in Mr. B’s eyes?”
“No, but I’d ask them of someone who didn’t come up through the ranks and has never played, coached, or managed hockey at any level. I’m merely trying to understand why the Icehawks considered you the best person for the job.” She surprises me by dropping the snarkiness and the smirk. She seems genuinely interested in the answer. I’m naturally suspicious and don’t trust her one bit.
“I’ve been with the Icehawks organization every step of the way since Portland was awarded a team. I’ve done my homework, studied the league, immersed myself in hockey, and I’ve dedicated myself to making this team the best it can be. On paper there were better choices, but in reality, the Icehawks would be hard-pressed to find anyone as devoted to our success as I am.”
Aria surprises me with another genuine smile. I don’t give her the satisfaction of smiling back. I maintain my icy professionalism and wait her out, while making a show of the time by once again looking at my watch.
“Let’s talk about the Icehawks. Right now, the team is four points out of first place with a month left in the regular season. Do you believe this team has the personnel to make the playoffs?”
“Of course I do.” I let her hear my indignance.
“This team is composed of misfits, has-beens, rejects, and third- and fourth-liners. There isn’t a star among them, at least, not a current star. How do you see your chances if you do make the playoffs?”
“You’re right. We don’t have stars on this team. We have a few guys who’ve been stars but aren’t considered such anymore. Teams don’t expose their top players in expansion drafts—not anymore. What we do have are solid second- and third-liners. They’re team players. They’re out to prove themselves. I believe those chips on their shoulders will drive them to greatness.”
I watch as she scribbles down every word I just said. I’ll be quoted verbatim for sure.
“Tell me about your thought process when you claimed Camden Hale off waivers. Was Werkle involved, or did you make this decision on your own?”
I take my time to answer and tread carefully through the minefield she’d laid. Brian didn’t like my choice, but he let me sink or swim. I can’t say that.
“We were in desperate need of a forward with consistent play and good defensive instincts. Someone who’d sacrifice for the team. I watched a lot of video and felt that he’d be the best fit for our style of play.”
“Did Werkle support your choice?”
“He allowed me free rein to do as I saw fit.” I’m done with this interview. I get up to leave. “I have to be getting back.”
Aria is undeterred. “It’s been a month. How’re you and Brian feeling about your choice now?”
“We’re satisfied with Camden. He fills his role well.”
“And what is that role? A grinder?” She’s fishing for something, and I’m on guard.
“Camden is an integral member of our team, as is every player on the Icehawks roster. We pride ourselves on our lines being interchangeable. Our strength is in our solid play up and down the lines. We play fast, hard, and with a defensive slant. Now I must go.”
I walk stiffly toward the door. She doesn’t follow me. When I glance over my shoulder, she’s staring at her notes and chewing on the end of her pen.
Camden strides down the hall with his teammates as I turn toward the ice level entrance. Warm-ups must be over. Seeing him makes my heart race, and I can’t drag my gaze from him. He’s everything I’ve dreamed of in a man, but also everything I can’t have. He hesitates as he nears my position. At first, he starts to walk by, then stops.
“Are you okay?”
I glance up and down the hallway, which is now empty. “I’ll talk to you about it later.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” His half smile warms my heart and makes up for the Aria interview. He takes a step closer. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. Here’s the real fucked-up part—I want him to. We stare into each other’s eyes for a nanosecond that seems like a lifetime. We don’t need words to communicate. We have a connection.
“Now I understand.”
We both startle and whirl around. Aria is standing several feet away with an unreadable expression on her face. If two people ever looked guilty, we did.
“I have to get in the locker room. Thanks for the info on my contract. We can discuss it later.” Camden hurries down the hall, and Aria approaches.
“Are you signing Hale on for another season?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters.” I whip around and start to stomp off, realizing I’m being too touchy about Camden, which may arouse suspicions. I’ve failed miserably. My intention with this interview had been to win Aria over and convert her to our side. I’ve done the opposite.
“Inez.” Something in Aria’s tone stops me, and I turn slowly around to face her.
She glances away before meeting my gaze. She’s not smirking. Instead, she’s looking almost—contrite? I must be delusional.
“What?” I say impatiently.
“I was out of line in there. I’m sorry. I applaud any woman who rises to management level in this sport. We both know there’re plenty of good ol’ boys who’d prefer to keep hockey entirely a man’s world. The Icehawks have been progressive and a shining example to other teams. I wish you all the success in the world. You do deserve it.”
My mouth hangs open as she pivots on her heel and walks in the opposite direction. Is she trying to set a trap? Yet her face displayed absolute sincerity. I’m flabbergasted and don’t know how to take what she’s just told me. I still don’t trust her, but now I’m confused as to her end game.
For now, I might have a tentative ally. If she eases up on Drakos, that’s all that matters. I have more pressing matters to worry about.
Such as my irresistible attraction to Camden. What the hell am I going to do about him? We’re both playing with fire, and we’re sure to be burned. Yet, like an arsonist, I keep lighting those matches.