Chapter 2 Ollie
OLLIE
I almost feel disloyal to the Sasquatch because of how much I enjoy skating with the Devil Birds.
This is my first day on the ice with them, and it feels like things are clicking already.
I mostly skate at center but can play right wing easily and left wing when necessary.
Hell, I’m so big, there have been times through the years I got slotted in on a defensive line if we were short-handed.
The only position I’m not at least passable at is goalie—because I’m not super flexible.
Not that filling the goal is anything the Devil Birds need to be worried about.
They have the best goalie in the league.
Bridget “Brick” Waller is the only female player in the league and smaller than most of the men, but she’s so agile in goal that it doesn’t matter.
The entire team treats her with respect and like she’s one of the guys—in the best way possible.
That makes me like everyone even more. The ’Squatch wouldn’t have been as accepting, no matter the example I’d try to set.
Management wouldn’t have set the right tone.
It's exciting that there’s another player almost as big as I am on the team.
Declan Mackenzie—everyone calls him Mac—matches me in height at six foot nine, but I’m broader and probably fifteen pounds heavier.
His nickname is Mack Truck because that’s what getting hit by him feels like.
It’s the truth—I’ve been the recipient of some of his hits, and they don’t tickle.
I gave as good as I got though. No doubt we both needed some extra ice after we played games against one another.
It was always gameplay though—no malice.
That’s one thing I’ve always liked about Mac.
He plays the game fairly and uses his size as a tool, not a weapon…
but that doesn’t stop me from feeling sorry for the other teams in the league now that we’re on the same team and sometimes on the same line.
As we enter the locker room, Coach tells me to come see him after I’m cleaned up.
My stomach roils. The last time I was called into my coach’s office, I was traded away.
I thought practice went well, but maybe they decided I’m not what they want after all.
I quickly shower and change into the Devil Birds-branded gear in my stall.
It’s weird to be wearing blue and gray after wearing the green and brown of the Sasquatch all season.
The atmosphere in the locker room doesn’t feel heavy.
No one is smirking at me as I go to Coach’s office.
Maybe there’s nothing to worry about? I don’t really believe that.
Now that they’ve seen me with their team, I’m sure they’ve decided I’m not a good fit and will either trade me somewhere else or bench me for the rest of the season.
Coach Morgan looks up when I knock on the door frame.
“Hey, King, come on in and take a seat.” He waves at a chair in front of his desk. “Up to you if you want to close the door.”
I decide to leave it open; there are a couple dozen shifters out there that will hear everything said, whether the door is open or not.
“So,” Coach says, leaning back in his chair. “How do you think practice went?”
I swallow. I hate questions like this. What if I say I think it went well, and he tells me it was a total shit show? But I don’t want to mention issues if he thought there weren’t any.
“I think the team is great and cohesive. I felt like we had some good plays. It’ll take more reps, of course, but I think we’ll jell.”
Coach nods. “I agree. We knew you’d fit right in.
Will you be okay playing tonight against the Aliens?
I want you and Mac on a line with Carter.
He’s been getting banged up six ways to Sunday.
He’s tough, but a body can only take being hit like that so much.
Hopefully having you two out there with him can keep some heat off him.
You two big boys really balance each other well. ”
“Yeah,” I say enthusiastically. “I’m ready to prove my worth to the team. I’ll play on any line you put me on.”
Coach sits up and rests his folded hands on the desk, looking at me seriously.
“King. You have nothing to prove here. We know you’re an exceptional player.
That’s why we scooped you up. I don’t know what happened on your prior team, but I’ve seen and heard things, and I’m betting they did things that didn’t sit well with you. ”
I dip my eyes down, not meeting his gaze. There’s nothing I can say to that. No matter how I feel, I’m not going to be disloyal.
“I know you won’t say anything,” Coach says with what sounds like approval, “because you’re a team player even when they do you dirty. That’s fine. It means we can move forward. Now, my assistant, Randi, will give you the details on your uniform and when to report. Okay keeping your number?”
“Yeah, I’m used to signing with a 36. It would be weird to change now.”
“I hear ya.” Coach stands and offers his hand, which I shake after rising from my chair. I guess our chat is over.
“Randi’s office is next door. She’s dating Mac, so if he’s in there, it’s not team business and you can interrupt them.
” He says that louder than the volume of our conversation, so he must intend to be heard.
There’s laughter from the locker room and some kissy noises.
But it seems good-natured, not vulgar and cruel like what was common in Spokane.
“Thanks,” I say, turning and leaving the office.
Mac steps out of the office next door and claps me on the shoulder as he passes.
I’m waved into the office he exited by a pretty brunette with gray eyes.
She smiles and says, “Hi, welcome aboard. I’m Miranda Quinn, most folks call me Randi.
Do you like to be called Oliver, or do you have a nickname? ”
I shake her proffered hand and sit on the couch across from her desk. “Hi, Randi, nice to meet you. You can call me Ollie or King. I don’t have a nickname.”
“The guys will probably call you King or come up with something random once they know you better.”
I shrug. I got called all sorts of things on my old team. Whatever the Devil Birds come up with probably won’t be any worse than that.
“Okay, here’s info on dress code.” Randi slides a bunch of papers across the desk toward me.
“Where to enter, time to arrive. Your access badge. Your jersey is getting stitched now and will be in your locker. How many tickets do you need for tonight? For friends and family. A girlfriend, maybe? I get can get them jerseys or other gear with your name and number on them too, but I need to know sizes.”
She has her pen poised above a pad of paper, ready to take notes.
My face heats. I’ve got family here, but obviously, I’m single.
I just got off a dating show and told the nation I’m a virgin.
But maybe she doesn’t know. And I can’t help but think of Phoebe…
. “I don’t know if I need any tickets. My brother lives nearby.
Shifting Pines. But he’s out of town. I have a friend, but I don’t know her schedule… ”
“It doesn’t have to be for tonight. It can be for tomorrow. Or any home game. We like to know in advance though,” Randi says.
“My brother and his wife are away until next week. Okay if I take a sec to check with my friend?”
“Sure! I’m grabbing some cocoa. Can I get you a water or anything?” Randi offers.
I shake my head. “I’m good, but thanks.”
She leaves out a second door I hadn’t noticed, and I realize it goes to the dining room where the team has meals. I pull out my phone and call up the text string with Phoebe.
Me: Hey, I’m playing in tonight’s game. Tomorrow too. Did you want tickets to either or both?
Phoebe: Yay! Absolutely! Tonight, please. Maybe tomorrow. Can I bring a friend?
Randi comes back into her office carrying a mug.
“Can I get a pair of tickets for tonight? Maybe tomorrow too?” I ask.
“Of course,” Randi says, putting her mug on a coaster on her desk. “Stands or owners’ suite?”
Me: I can get two tickets for each night. Do you want to sit in the stands or the owners’ suite?
Phoebe: Stands! Thank you!
Glancing up at Randi, I say, “Stands, please.”
“Perfect. They’ll be at will call. What name should they be under?”
“Phoebe Albright,” I say.
There’s surprise in Randi’s gray eyes. “Is she a baker?”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “Yeah, do you know her?”
“Not personally, but I know her work. We love treats from the Half-Cocked Bake Shop, and I think she’s baking Coach’s wedding cake.”
Pride warms my heart at hearing praise for Phoebe’s talent. She deserves it.
“That’s awesome. Getting fresh-baked cookies is a plus of being traded here.” And being near Phoebe, but I keep that to myself.
“Do you want a jersey or T-shirt for her left with the tickets?”
A grin spreads across my face at the thought of Phoebe wearing my jersey.
Me: Tickets will be at will call under your name. Do you want a jersey?
Phoebe: Yours? Absolutely!
“She does,” I tell Randi. “A jersey, please.”
“Sure, what size?”
My brain malfunctions at that.
Randi smiles kindly and nods toward my phone. “Ask her. It will be men’s sized.”
Me: What size? Men’s sizing.
Phoebe: XL, I think. What size do you wear?
Me: XXL. That would be way too big for you. It would be a dress.
Phoebe: XL then. Thank you!! I’m so excited to see you play! And I can cheer you on without getting dirty looks.
Me: I’d protect you. Let me finish up here, and we’ll talk later. Can’t wait to see you.
Phoebe: Same!
She gives me a smiley face emoji that makes me smile in return as I relay the size to Randi. Raising my gaze from my phone, I meet Randi’s raised-eyebrow expression.
“Have you known each other long?” she asks.
“Our older siblings are married to each other. She’s my best friend.”
Randi’s smile grows. “Aww…Declan and I have been friends since we were kids. We reunited when I started working for the team a couple of months ago. That’s a whole other story. But anyway, friends sometimes become more. Just sayin’.”
I’m starting to blush, so it’s time to go. I gather everything Randi has given me and rise to leave. I need to return to the hotel and rest before the game.
“Thanks for your help, Randi. I appreciate the welcome.” She did more for me in fifteen minutes than the Sasquatch staff did in six months.
“Of course, Ollie! We take care of each other here. If you think of anything you need, let me know, and I’ll connect you with the resources that can help you. That’s what I’m here for.”
I nod and leave her office. The locker room is empty, and my gear is undisturbed.
Grabbing my bag of Devil Birds warm-ups, I leave the locker room and make my way to the mall that’s part of the complex with the rink.
It’s a unique space—part retail, part sports and entertainment.
The wind blowing down the Boardwalk is blustery as I leave the pier the team calls “the Nest.” I look back at it before I enter the Devil’s Den across the street.
Everyone has been so friendly and welcoming here.
I can’t decide if it’s nice or if it feels like a cult.
How can everyone be so happy and functional?
It’s unnatural. Maybe they’re putting on a good front for the new guy.
I’ll see how they really are tonight when the pressure of the game reveals their true colors.