CHAPTER 4 #2
“Is she a nice girl? What does she do?” My mother was about to go down the usual list: Is she from a nice family? What does she look like? Can she make me a grandmother? When will you bring her for tea?
That is when it really hit me. I had no idea.
I didn't know what she did, but I know she needed her shoulder to do it.
I didn't know where she lived, but I knew it took her a bit to get to the city.
And if her foul mouthed nephew was any indication of her family then, yes, I would say they were good people.
But that is all I had on this woman I was pining over.
If I told my mother any of this, I don't think I could look her in the eye ever again.
“It's nothing, really. Just a nice woman I was talking to. Nothing is going to come of it. I'm just trying to get through the season. You know how it is.”
She was silent for a moment, then she popped up and put more food on my plate all while taking some from my sister.
“I was eating that!” Erica squawked.
“You are eating me out of house and home because of that girl!”
“Her name is Amelia!” Erica jumped from the counter and stormed into her room again.
My mother had a look of pride on her own face. She sat next to me and patted my hand.
“If it is meant to be you will find her. Or she will find you.”
“You believe that, Matka?” Her hand found my cheek and she patted it softly.
“Look at me and your father.” She started clearing the food away. Clearly, I had had enough as well.
“He is stationed in Germany for the millionth time.” I wanted more food.
“Exactly. Perfect.”
◆◆◆
Practice the next morning felt much smoother. I took comfort in my mother's words and let myself rest a little more on fate. I did all I could to try and find her, I would just have to be patient. I had hockey to think about anyway, not beautiful women with mouths that curl so deliciously.
I skated faster, was crisper and my legs had been powerful. No doubt due to the pierogies.
“You got it, Sarge!” Reeds shouted at my stick work.
I had faked out Brennan three times in a row and was feeling smooth and saucy.
He came up behind me and patted my ass hard with his stick. “A changed man!” He smiled as he skated past.
Scoring wasn't my job even when it is everyone's job.
I was an enforcer. I knew why I was hired, to protect everyone else, put my body on the line for the win.
I was good at it. I had been good at it for the last twelve years, which is why I got a midseason trade for a shit ton of money.
But I was still a hockey player. I'm not just a brute.
Scoring, stick work, passing, setting up plays, it all felt good.
It reminded me why I love the sport. Hockey always had my heart, even when it is breaking it.
I had been chasing that cup for so long handling disappointment was part of a players job.
“You're looking good, Sarge.”
“I ate pierogies, Coach.”
“Keep it up.”
“Hey, I want pierogies!” Jonesy skated towards me.
“Not until you can learn to keep your mouth shut about shit.” I skated past him.
“Oh, come on, I'm sorry.” The kid skated after me into the locker room.
Practice was finally over and my lungs needed a rest. I needed a bath and a beer. The kid wouldn't let it go. He followed me into the shower, still apologizing, trying to explain himself, but I wanted nothing to do with it.
“Kid, that's enough. I don't want to hear your apologies. Just don't put my shit out there, OK?”
That made him go quiet.
“OK, I'm sorry. I wasn't following you or eavesdropping. I just like that front office girl and I was flirting with her when you were asking the social media girl.”
“She is the social media manager. Don't go around calling these professional women girls like it is a blanket statement. They work here.”
Jonesy didn't know what to say to that. His eyes darted back and forth like he never even considered the way he spoke.
“Yeah, you're right.”
“OK.” I turned to finish my shower in peace. But the kid kept chatting.
"But I did hear good news. The Social Media gi– Manager. I did overhear her say you were going to be so happy. So, I wonder if they found your girl.”
My heart leapt from my chest and started beating so quickly I thought it would bruise. “What do you mean? When did you hear this?” The desperation in my voice was evident.
“Oh, I always flirt right before practice cause that is when my hair looks good.”
“Thanks, kid!” I don't think I even washed the conditioner out of my hair. I sprinted to the locker rooms and pulled on a pair of gray joggers and my holy T-shirt and ran up to the third floor offices to find Samantha, the Social Media Manager.
I busted into her office without knocking, scaring her so badly she spilled coffee all down her front and screamed bloody murder.
“What the heck, Sarge!”
“Sorry! Sorry!” I ran out of the room and got paper towels from the bathroom. But stopped short of patting her down.
“I'll replace your outfit, promise.”
“Are you going to pay my medical bills when I have a heart attack too?” She was pissed.
“I'm sorry! But Jonesy said you might have good news for me.”
“I swear that kid is a spy. He knows everything that goes on around here.” She rolls her eyes, but once she got a glimpse at my pleading face, I think I'm forgiven. Samantha opens her desk draw and hands me a small square envelope.
And I smile, like goofy as shit, so happy I could piss, smile.
On the front of the envelope was the name “Paulie Montrose.”