25. Trade Deals
Chapter Twenty-Five
TRADE DEALS
Trade deadline is less than twenty-four hours away. While the Icehawks are made up of a bunch of rejects and old guys, they’ve managed to gel into a competitive unit lately, thanks to brilliant coaching. This team could be a playoff contender with a few additional pieces. Off-loading Drakos Lenkov would be a great start. —Aria at All Hockey News
~~Inez~~
It’s less than twenty-four hours before trade deadline. I haven’t seen my apartment since yesterday. Brian and I are working the phones around the clock. The team has specific needs to address if we hope to make the playoffs and go deep into them.
Brian’s been incredible through this entire experience. He’s taken me under his wing and mentored me. I’d expected resistance from him when it came to including me, but he’s treated me as an equal, listened to my suggestions, and discussed options. I’m energized and confident. For the first time since I was hired, I feel as if I’m in the right position. Brian and I are developing into a great team.
I’ve only seen Camden in passing since two nights ago, but we’ve been texting. He’s concerned about Drakos, but he doesn’t pressure me, and I won’t compromise Brian’s trust to give him any insight as to what’s going on. Besides, he wouldn’t want me to.
I miss him even though it’s only been a few days since we last burned up those proverbial sheets. In fact, the extent to which I miss him is disturbing. How that man weaseled his way into my cautious heart so quickly is a mystery to me. My only answer is inexplicable chemistry with a dash of fate thrown in.
Brian ends his current call and turns to me. I push thoughts of Camden away and pay attention. By his expression, he has something noteworthy to say.
“The Drakos deal fell through. Too much of a hit on their salary cap.” He doesn’t seem overly disappointed, which is curious.
“I have to admit I’m relieved. I think Drakos is a valuable member of the team.”
“Every guy in that locker room is valuable in their own way, but we have to consider the tough task of what’s best for the team in the near future and in years to come.”
“I understand.”
“I know you do, but there’s more. We have interest in a package deal that’d include Wade and Camden, plus a few low-level draft picks for the premier center, Josh Mayer.”
I barely registered who we’re trading for. My brain seized up the moment I heard Camden’s name.
“Camden?” I choke. I’ve been in denial that Camden’s safe and won’t be used as trade bait. He’s been playing better, and he’s a consistent and solid third- or fourth-liner and a good defensive forward. I’m sure he’s attractive to any team out there, especially with his lower-end contract.
“Yes, Camden.” He furrows his brow in puzzlement, as if he doesn’t understand my reaction. I force my expression into one of sheer neutrality while my brain churns with viable reasons why trading Camden is a bad idea.
All the while, I’m fully aware my job requires me to put aside any personal ties to the players. This is a business, and I’m in a position to make that business prosper or wither and fade. I can’t let my private desires cloud my judgment. But they aren’t. I sit up straight, square my shoulders, and give Brian my professional opinion. “Camden anchors our third line. He’s the glue that holds it together. His cap hit is minimal, and we won’t find anyone better to replace him. He’s playing his best hockey right now. And Wade, he’s a solid forward who’s stepped up lately. That third line has been outperforming itself as of late.”
“Which is why there’s interest. He’s not under contract for next season. We might as well get something for him.”
“Even at the expense of the playoffs? Isn’t that the point of the trades? To make our team better? Trading Cam and Wade isn’t the way to do that.” I proceeded to spout off Cam’s and Wade’s recent stats and stress what good teammates they are. Brian watches me as if looking for weakness. If he does suspect something between Cam and me, Cam will be traded. I’ve no doubt about it.
“You make good points. I understand your unwillingness to let Camden go. He was your first transaction as assistant GM, and he’s been a success,” he concedes, and I feel as if I’ve won the first battle.
“It’s not that, exactly. I hate messing with the team’s mojo right now. I feel like we need both of them for the kind of system we’re running.”
“Now you sound like Coach.” I try not to take it personally that he’s already discussed this trade with Coach Jeffs before me. Now isn’t the time to get my panties in a bunch. As far as we’ve come, Brian still has some reservations about me, and I get it. I’m unproven, inexperienced, and unqualified, but I’m also ambitious and driven, and want what’s best for the team.
“He knows what he needs to win.” I back up Coach’s opinion for what it’s worth.
“So do I. Everything depends on whether Mayer, with his huge cap hit, would be a worthwhile investment.” At least Brian doesn’t seem to have his mind made up, and he’s talking it over with me.
“I suppose it does. Mayer’s contract is up at the end of next season, which can be both good and bad.” I hate admitting it, but he’s right. I push my personal feelings onto the back burner and discuss the possible repercussions and advantages of a Camden/Wade trade. I’m sick inside, but this is my job. This is the business. Cam will understand, even if it breaks his heart.
“Let’s take a dinner break. I’ll meet you back here in thirty minutes. I have a few things I need to take care of,” Brian suggests. “We can clear our minds and come back at this from a fresh perspective.”
“Sounds good.” I almost bolt from the room. Glancing around, I slip down the hallway to the elevator. I need to think, work out in my head the personal and professional ramifications of a Camden trade.
I exit on the floor where all the player facilities are. I’m not sure why I came down here, other than to catch a glimpse of Cam. It’s late, practice ended hours ago, and everyone has gone home. I stop in my tracks when I spy Aria skulking about, probably looking for a scoop on an impending trade.
“Aria? How are you?” I’m politely cool. I don’t like or trust this woman. No one does.
Aria doesn’t see me coming. I startle her, and she whirls around to face me. “Inez. How are you?”
“I’m fine, how are you?” I’m stiffly polite and coldly professional. She doesn’t deserve better than that.
“Good.” She gives nothing away. Instead, she tilts her chin imperviously in a silent challenge.
“What are you doing down here this late at night?” I answer her challenge with one of my own.
“I—I?—”
“Mining for dirt on trades?” I answer my question for her. “You won’t find what you’re looking for down here. How about I show you a shortcut to exit the building?”
Aria’s eyes narrow, but I stand my ground.
“Just follow me.”
To my surprise, she does.
“By the way in case you’re wondering, your interview was so boring, I decided it wasn’t worth publishing.” She smirks in a calculating manner. Well, I have news for her.
“I’m good with that.” I couldn’t care less that she considers me boring. I’ve never thought I was a fascinating person. I’m relieved she’s not publishing the interview.
“Well, here’s the door.” I hold it open for her.
She casts a murderous glance my way before exiting. I watch her go to make sure she truly leaves, then I shut the door. I grab a sandwich from the refrigerator in the players’ lounge. I start to sit down at one of the tables but decide to check out the practice rink instead. This time of night, it should be deserted, but for an inexplicable reason, I need to see for myself.
I push open the heavy metal door and enter. A couple banks of lights dimly illuminate the ice. I walk through a short tunnel and stop at the glass. A lone guy is skating lazy circles at the other end. I recognize him immediately. Not wanting to interrupt Camden’s Zen moment, I sit down on the front row of bleachers and take a bite of my sandwich. My eyes are glued to Camden, who hasn’t noticed me yet.
Camden is a fluid skater, not the fastest guy or the most talented skater by far, yet he has a graceful presence on the ice that can’t be denied. I love watching him skate, and tonight he’s skating only for himself. His face is relaxed and devoid of the stress I’ve seen there lately. We’re all stressed. Professional hockey isn’t for the weak. It’s a tough sport with a grueling schedule and a revolving door of new talent to replace the old.
Sadly, I wonder how much longer Cam will have a place in this league. He’s not getting any younger. There are kids born a decade later than him champing at the bit to take his job. The average career length in this league is about four and a half years.
I finish my sandwich before rising to my feet and waving to get his attention. A slow, sexy smile crosses his face, and he skates toward me, doing a sideways stop a few feet away and spraying ice all over.
“Cam!” I chastise him as I wipe ice off my sweater.
He laughs and comes through the rink gate. I meet him halfway and throw my arms around him.
“I’ve missed you.” I nuzzle his neck and inhale his unique scent. I wish we had time for a quickie, but we really don’t.
“I’ve fucking missed you too. How’s it going up there?” He indicates the Icehawk admin offices above us by pointing his finger.
“Brutal,” I admit. He hooks a finger under my chin and lifts my head. We stare into each other’s eyes before we kiss. I deepen the kiss and give it all I’ve got to show him that I love him, no matter what happens with the team. He’s not naive. He knows without me telling him that he’s possible trade fodder. After all, that’s been the story of his career. We kiss as though we can’t get enough of each other, which we can’t.
“I should go back. I was only taking a short break.” I sigh, reluctant to leave him just yet. Tomorrow he could be on a jet to another team. I wish I could stay in this protective cocoon forever, but I have a job to do.
“I understand.” Camden nods, his eyes are serious and sad. “Inez, do your job. Don’t worry about me. I always land on my feet.”
“Nothing’s set in concrete yet. There are lots of possibilities that Brian is working,” I say, not denying that he’s one of those possibilities. He knows.
We share another long kiss before it’s interrupted by one of the large double doors into the rink slamming shut.
“Fuck!” Camden growls, and we leap apart.
I whirl around to see who’s invaded our sanctuary. I pray it’s not Brian. The lone figure freezes and stares at us, then pivots and hurries toward the door.
“Shelby, what are you doing here?” I don’t conceal my annoyance. I’m startled to see her creeping about this late at night, especially on the players’ floor. She turns to face me with a guilty duck of her head.
“I had a bunch of stuff to finish up. I’m leaving now.” She doesn’t really answer my question. She has no viable reason to be in the practice rink this late at night.
Before I have an opportunity to ask more questions, she scurries away and exits.
“That was weird,” Camden says, as he watches her go. “Do you think she saw anything?”
“I don’t know, but I trust her. She won’t talk.”
“Seems like there’s getting to be too many people that know about us.”
“I know,” I say miserably. I fall into his arms. “I just need a hug.”
“Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” he quips, but pulls me close. I cling to him as if it’s our last moment together. The walls are closing in. Our little secret is on the verge of not being that secret anymore.
I could go back to work for Mr. B. I loved being his assistant. Camden and I could be together, and I wouldn’t be compromising the integrity of the team the way I am in this position where I have hiring-firing power over the players.
That’s really the crux of the issue.
But I don’t want to walk away from this job, not when I’m proving I can do it, not just for me but for all the little girls in the world ready to take on traditional men’s positions. I’m doing this for them, too.
And what am I doing for myself by living this secret life? Lies have a way of catching up with a person. I can’t help but feel Cam and I are nearing the end of our luck and on borrowed time, even if he doesn’t get traded.