Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
CHELSEY
I squeezed between a couple of people blocking my path to the documentary crew, who had set up a station behind where the players’ partners usually sat during games.
I’d met most of the additional members of the filming crew at this point, but I didn’t recognize the short, stocky man standing with Max and Patrick.
A young boy ran across in front of me, heading for the concession stand, and I stopped abruptly so as not to walk into him.
From behind, his mother sent me a look of gratitude.
Even though the stands weren’t full yet, it was already busy.
The air smelled like fast food but with faint metallic and chemical undertones.
I breathed it in. So familiar. I loved it.
Max waved as he caught sight of me. “Chelsey, this is my brother, Lance. He’s going to be manning one of the cameras tonight.”
Lance offered me his hand and I shook it, looking him in the eyes and noting that he appeared quite a bit younger than Max—or perhaps he’d simply spent less time in the sun and was therefore less weathered.
“Nice to meet you,” I said politely.
“Likewise.”
I turned back to Max. “Do you have everything you need?”
He nodded. “We’re ready to go at any time. Thanks for doing what you can to make our jobs easier.”
“No worries.” I didn’t mention that they might have had more preparation time if I hadn’t been avoiding Matt. No need for them to be made aware of that. I gestured at the people gathered on the benches nearby. “Would you like me to introduce you to the players’ partners and families?”
“That would be fantastic.”
“You can’t interview them today, though, because they haven’t been given the opportunity to sign consent forms,” I warned.
“I understand. We’ll have to get that in place prior to the next home game.”
Lance jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll return to my camera.”
I watched him go. “Is he a fan of the team too?”
Max laughed. “No, that traitor shifted his allegiance to Detroit a few years back. If these guys put in a good showing, he might consider changing that, but I think it’ll take either going to the playoffs or having a few decent years before that happens.”
“I get it.” Many fans would probably be the same way.
The die hard loyal fans stuck with a team through thick and thin, but the majority would reconsider who they supported only when they were shown that they had a viable long-term alternative.
I motioned toward one of the women sitting nearby. “Let me introduce you to Maribel.”
Max followed a few steps behind me as I shuffled around people, guiding him to the Taylor family. Brian Taylor’s wife, Maribel, glanced up as we approached and smiled. She was a pretty Latinx woman with warm brown eyes and flawless skin.
“Hi, Mari,” I said when we were close enough to be heard over the background buzz. I’d met Maribel a week earlier, when she’d dropped by to collect the keys that her husband had accidentally taken. She was friendly and forthright, both traits I liked in a person.
Maribel waved. “Chelsey, it’s so good to see you again!”
“Same to you.” I gestured to Max. “This is Max. He’s part of the crew filming a documentary about the team.
Max, this is Maribel Taylor. She’s married to Brian Taylor, and they have a couple of kids together.
” I gazed at the little boy who was clinging to her knee.
With his big, brown eyes and mussed hair, he truly was adorable.
They exchanged greetings, but before Max could explain that they’d like the partners to consider being interviewed in the future—even if the recordings didn’t make it into the final cut—Maribel called over a few other people.
“Chelsey, have you met everyone?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
She grinned. “In that case, I’m sure they’d all like to thank you for the spectacular photos of our men from the shelter fundraiser. I had the picture of Brian printed, and it’s now framed on the fridge. There’s just something so sexy about men holding cute animals.”
“That was your idea?” a tall, thin blonde asked.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t exactly original.”
She snorts. “Who cares about that? I now have the most gorgeous shot of my boyfriend with a fluffy ginger cat as my screensaver. It’s purr-fect.” She held out her hand. “I’m Regina.”
I shook it, and then Max did too.
Maribel nudged the woman beside her with her elbow. “This is Jane. She’s Austin Harris’s fiancée.”
I flashed Jane a smile. I recognized her, of course.
Given the furor after someone leaked an intimate photo of her with Austin, most people who followed the team would know who she was at a glance.
It was a shame since the way she ducked her head and hunched her shoulders said she didn’t like attention.
“This handsome gentleman is Simon, who’s dating Amir,” Maribel continued, gesturing to a petite man with round glasses and keen eyes behind them. “And Sadie here is dating émile Gauthier.”
Sadie, a curvy woman with a nice smile, grinned at me. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“I’d love to arrange interviews with you all at a future date, if you’re willing,” Max said, withdrawing a bundle of business cards from his pocket. He handed one to each of them.
“There’s no pressure to participate,” I assured them. “Your partners won’t be penalized if you want to protect your privacy.”
Yes, the team had to fully participate in the documentary, but no one could require their loved ones to do the same.
“Thank you,” Jane murmured, lifting her chin and daring to look me in the eyes. “We appreciate that.”
“But I’m excited for it,” Regina added. “We’re going to be famous.”
I laughed. “Maybe not famous, but hopefully, it generates a bit of positive attention.”
And didn’t end with a PR disaster that would see the team shipped off and forced to create new homes for themselves somewhere else.
“It will,” Max assured me. He nodded to the others. “We’ll be in touch.”
With that, he hustled away.
“Sit with us for a while,” Simon said as they returned to their waiting seats.
I pointed to where Max had gone. “I should really—”
“Just a few minutes?” he asked. “So we can get to know you?”
“All right,” I conceded, trying to figure out where to sit. There was a spot beside Simon, but I wasn’t sure it was big enough for me.
He patted it. “Come on.”
Grimacing, I did my best to slot between him and Jane. He shuffled over to make a little more room and I was grateful for that because it would have been awfully embarrassing if my ass didn’t fit.
“Amir mentioned that you’re thinking about organizing a charity game for the Rainbow Sports Alliance,” he said, raising his soft voice to be heard above the excited chatter of a pair of children nearby.
“That’s right.” I was pleased he was leading the conversation and relieved that he’d chosen a topic I could easily discuss. “We don’t have any plans or details yet. I just wanted his thoughts on whether it was a viable idea.”
“He’s very excited about it.” Simon gave an awkward laugh.
“We both are. LGBTQ+ athletes often aren’t treated as well and don’t get the same opportunities as their straight counterparts because of the small-minded attitudes still prevalent in the sport.
The fact you would champion a cause like that automatically makes you a good person in my eyes, even if it’s primarily designed to be something that makes the team look better. ”
My heart squeezed and I blinked rapidly, embarrassed by how emotional his words made me.
“I happen to agree, and yes, it’s my job to make the team look better and ensure they do everything the probationary order says, but I’m also in a privileged position where I get to bring ideas to the team’s management, which means I have the opportunity to draw attention to the causes close to my heart, and I’ve maybe taken advantage of that a little bit. ”
He beamed. “Someone needs to. I’m glad it’s you—especially if it means that more queer athletes get access to high-level training.”
On my other side, Jane leaned closer. “How is your job going overall? Are any of the players giving you trouble?”
“Not all of them love giving up so much of their privacy, but I wouldn’t say anyone has caused problems. Most of them know it’s necessary, even if a few like to mouth off to make themselves feel better about it.”
Jane’s eyes narrowed. “Like whom?”
I drew back, surprised by the strength of her tone. I hadn’t expected that from someone who’d, thus far, seemed quite timid. “It doesn’t matter. It isn’t a problem.”
I wasn’t going to begrudge anyone the need to let off a little steam, and if I complained to Jane, then it might get back to Austin, and the players may be held accountable.
Now, accountability wasn’t a bad thing, but I also needed their cooperation and if they actively disliked me, that would only make my job harder.
Best to continue as we were.
The song changed, signaling that the players were about to emerge onto the ice, so I scrambled off the seat.
“Lovely to meet you all, but I’d better get back to work.” I hurried off, shuffling between people until I’d made my way back to Max and Patrick. They glanced over as I approached but neither spoke. Patrick was stretching to see the changing room doors and Max was fixated on his video camera.
While they were otherwise occupied, I opened the camera case around my neck, pulled out my camera, and made sure the settings were correct for me to snap a few photographs during the game.
Both teams were on the ice now, warming up. Jesse was showboating as he stretched, and I aimed my camera at him and pressed the shutter. I took advantage of the opportunity to photograph each player while they were moving more slowly.
Eventually, the game began, and I settled in to watch. It wasn’t long before I wished I’d bought a snack, but with the score nil-all, I wasn’t about to leave my seat. There was no way I’d risk missing a goal.
Near the end of the first period, Delacrue foot-tripped a player from the other team.
He wasn’t obvious about it, but the referee noticed and he was sent off the ice, scowling and muttering to himself.
I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him.
Didn’t he realize how hard we were trying to change the team’s image?
Pulling dirty crap like that certainly wouldn’t convince the commissioner to give the Chaos another chance.
Had he forgotten that the cameras were rolling?
When the first period was over, the score was still nil-all. Entering the second period, the Chaos came out hard. Jesse bolted up the ice with the puck, but the opposition intercepted him and sent it flying back the other way.
Matt caught the puck on the end of his stick and glided out of the defensive zone, evading their wing before passing the puck to Harris, who took it past the defensemen, then flicked it over the goalie’s shoulder and into the net.
I clicked the shutter just as the goalie dove for the puck and captured the moment Harris realized it had gone in and pumped his fist.
I cheered, but my voice was lost among the din in the stadium as supporters leapt to their feet and hollered encouragement.
No further goals were scored in the second period, and by the third, it was clear both teams were tiring.
A few minutes in, an opposing forward took a run at the goal, and when Matt got in the way, he body-checked him into the barrier.
Matt smacked it hard and I winced, remembering the bruises he used to sport after games. I bet that would leave a mark.
Would he remember to rub an anti-inflammatory ointment on the bruising? Or did he forget that kind of thing now that he had no one to look after him?
Stop worrying. It isn’t your job to take care of him anymore.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. It was only too easy to recall the intimacy of massaging ointment into his skin and keeping him supplied with ice packs when he needed them. It had taken months to get out of the habit of always having extras in the chiller.
Each team scored a goal by the end of the period, meaning the Chaos won 2-1.
As the buzzer sounded, a roar tore through the stadium.
All around, fans got to their feet. They shouted, waved their arms, and grinned at each other.
On the ice, the players huddled together, hugging and exchanging high fives.
I just sat there and soaked in the atmosphere. There was something about winning a home game that brought out the good vibes.
“Chelsey?”
I looked over and found Jane standing beside me. “They did it!”
She grinned. “They did. We’re all heading to Rinkside—that’s the bar down the road—to celebrate, if you’d like to join us.”
I considered taking her up on the offer, more tempted than I would’ve expected to be.
The atmosphere at an after-game event on a night like tonight would be wild.
Also, if any of the players were going to go off the deep end and do something over the top that might result in the loss of first draft round picks, this seemed a likely time for it to happen.
That said, I hadn’t been hired to police the players’ behavior and it didn’t seem appropriate for me to try to.
I also didn’t want them to feel restricted by my presence, or like I was some kind of corporate spy.
They were more likely to accept me and go along with my plans if they felt like I respected their boundaries.
“I’d better not.” I softened the words with a smile. “But thank you for the invitation.”
Jane nodded. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”
She said a quick goodbye and went off in search of her fiancé.
Meanwhile, I reported to Patrick to find out what they needed to finish up for the night.
I helped dismantle their equipment, and then Max walked me to my car.
I was about to start my engine when I remembered the way Matt had been smashed against the rails earlier.
Was he hurting?
Not your business.
Although…maybe it kind of was my business?
Not because I was in a relationship with him or entitled to know how he was feeling, but he was clearly still taking up a lot of real estate in my mind, considering I’d let my worry about working with him cause me to delay doing something related to my job.
We couldn’t go on like that. Something had to change.
Instead of turning on the car, I grabbed my phone and opened the contact page I’d added with Matt’s number after discovering that we were going to have to work together for the documentary. I typed out a short message and my thumb hovered over the “Send” button.
Groaning, I backspaced the text and typed something different.
Then I hit “Send.”