Chapter 7
Otto
Fighting The Attraction
My attraction to Mia is off-the-charts. When she squeezed my arm, I swear a megawatt of electricity flowed between us. But will she always see me as an athlete without a brain?
At least I gained a tiny speck of respect from her with my sketch for the flyer and invitations. When I get home, I translate the napkin design into digital format, adding bright pastel colors and a playful font. It turned out even better than I had hoped. Unable to leave well enough alone, I chuckle as I write an email that should ruffle her feathers (just a little) when it hits her Inbox.
Subject: Digital Design
Dear Ms. Robinson,
Attached is the napkin sketch in digital format as requested. I’ve created a sample flyer and an invitation design for your review. Please suggest changes or email your approval and I’ll obtain printing bids.
Creative Design Genius,
Otto
P.S. I have adopted a rescue pigeon named Floyd and am training him for delivery of the invitations to our VIP guests. There’s a product called Pigeon Pants which will alleviate your concerns over bird poop .
An evil-sounding laugh escapes when I press Send. I can’t wait to see her response.
~*~
Bummer. No response from Mia so far. I’m feeling dejected as I head to hockey practice the next morning but my mind quickly focuses on hockey as practice begins and the team is forced to do a plethora of drills. Although it’s the summer off-season in terms of Division One college games, we have two exhibition games coming up and Coach wants to make sure we’re ready.
“Listen up, you bunch of underachievers!” Coach grumbles in his raspy voice the minute our blades hit the ice. “Today, I’m going to push you harder than ever. If you think you're tired, think again. I’m going to find out who really wants to be here and who just wants to skate by.”
Joey and I trade grimaces. Coach wasn’t happy with the last training game, calling our play sloppy and pointing out how out of shape we all are. Unfortunately, he’s right. There’s a bunch of new guys, plus we lost some of our best players, most notably, Levi.
“First up, suicide sprints. I don't want to see anyone slacking. If you think you can take it easy, you're dead wrong. Full speed, every time, or you'll be doing it again.”
Groans fill the arena making us sound like a herd of dying cows. Suicide sprints are my least favorite drill as we literally sprint on our skates back and forth to five lines on the rink of increasing distance apart. It’s meant to improve endurance and train for explosive speed. I suspect by the team’s reaction, the only thing that’s going to be explosive today is the contents of our stomachs. Not a pretty picture.
Forty-five minutes and twenty sets of sprints later, my legs feel like wet noodles. I smell like a pair of socks that have been stored in a zipped gym bag for a month. At least I didn’t toss my cookies on the ice during the sprints like some of the rookies did. For being a plain-spoken, no holes bared guy when talking about almost everything else, Coach used several humorous euphemisms when referring to the stomach emptying incidents on the rink, and there were several of them.
“Clean up that gut geyser!”
“Mop needed for the heave-ho over by the blue line!”
And the best one of all, “Don’t skate through the hurl-a-whirl.”
To add insult to injury, Coach made all the new guys clean up the ice. I’m sure all the rookies have a whole new perspective of practice.
By the end of the session, we’re barely able to drag ourselves to the locker room. Flopping on the bench in front of my locker, I strip off my pads and uniform, thankful for the chilly air on my skin. Some rookies complain voraciously about the exhausting drills, while others sit quietly like me, decompressing and cooling down.
“If Coach don’t kill us, we’ll be in the best shape of our life,” Joey says, joining me on the bench.
“True,” I utter, not able to muster a witty reply.
“Want to grab a bite to eat on the way home?” he says as he removes his skates.
“Sure! How about steak? I could probably eat the whole cow at this point.”
Joey laughs. “Let’s stop at that all-you-can-eat buffet on 34 th avenue. They’ve got steak and anything else you’re hungry for.”
“Sounds good. Let me jump in the shower and we’ll go.”
His mention of the buffet reminds me of my epic fail when asking Mia out during Levi’s party. To this day I can’t believe I acted like a clumsy teenager. Now that I know her better, I wouldn’t dare suggest bowling or a buffet. What was I thinking?
I suspect I won’t get a second chance to ask her out. None of our interactions on the fundraising project so far have hinted that she’s attracted to me at all. In fact, I feel like she’s merely tolerating me, hoping I’ll complete my tasks to her satisfaction, then after the project completes, she’ll be only too happy to give me the boot. I rather enjoy ruffling her feathers and our sparring matches keep me on my toes, so I’d love to date her.
Do I have any chance of winning her heart? Nope, not until pigeons learn how to deliver those invitations.
~*~
When Joey and I arrive home after stuffing our faces at the all-you-can-eat buffet, I check my email to see if Mia has responded. Her reply stands out like a blinking neon sign in the Inbox and I chuckle. Her use of capitalization is very effective.
Subject: ABSOLUTELY NO PIGEONS!
Dear Mr. Stagmeier,
As previously mentioned, there are no pigeons on this project. ABSOLUTELY NONE! Maybe you will be able to find Floyd a good home or transition him into becoming your pet. I hope there are no future project emails with mention of fowl of any kind, pigeon, chicken, or ostrich.
Regards,
Mia
P.S. Translation of the napkin design into digital format meets my approval. Proceed with bids.
Mia’s response about Floyd (my fictitious adoptee pigeon) doesn’t disappoint, but I feel a bit let down by her reaction to my digital design. Her in-person reaction was glowing, but her email is merely transactional in nature, with no words of praise. I’m not sure what it will take for me to knock her socks off. Shrugging off my frustration, I place the call I’ve been meaning to make for a couple days.
“Otto! Nice to hear from you,” Levi says on the second ring. He’s living in California now, but I forgot about our time zone difference.
“Am I calling at a bad time? I just realized you might be eating dinner,” I say in an apologetic voice.
He laughs. “I grabbed fast food because Bailey’s working the late shift at the bakery.”
“I’m glad to hear that she found a job. Tell her congratulations!”
“Thanks. It’s a long story, but she found the perfect job. So how are things going with the Golden Stars? Any promising rookies?”
I grunt. “Based on our recent practices, no. But Coach will whip them into shape.”
“True, as long as he doesn’t kill them first!”
Levi’s words bring up a visual of the rookies tossing their cookies at today’s practice. Clearing my throat, I quickly change the subject. “Actually, I called to ask a favor.”
“Sure. What do you need?”
Levi’s such a great guy, and I know he’ll readily agree to my request, but I also want him to understand the cause first. “The business school dean teamed up with the law school dean to hold a fundraiser for a new park. Have you ever heard of an inclusive park?”
“Um, I can’t say that I have.”
Excitement leaks through my voice as I describe the park. “It’s a park built so that kids of all abilities can play. There’s special playground equipment and the entire park is designed for easy accessibility.”
“That sounds terrific! Bailey and I will have to visit after the park is complete. But let me guess, you need me to donate to the fundraiser?”
I laugh. “I do, but not in the form of money, unless you want to. We’re holding a silent auction and I think a signed Nyberg Anaheim Ducks jersey will bring a lot of bids.”
“I’m happy to donate that to such a worthy cause! There’s a sports company that handles all this kind of stuff for me now. You can get the jersey framed, along with a photo of me, whatever you think will bring in the highest bids. I’ll ask them to reach out to you.”
Wow! Levi is big-time now that he’s an NHL professional. I feel a little bowled over. “Thanks, Levi!”
“I’d also like to donate money, so email me the fundraising information.”
“Will do. We’re just getting the donations website setup. Mia didn’t like the colors they used, so we had to rework it.” Personally, I thought the colors were appropriate since they matched the colors I used on the flyer and invitations, but Mia thought it should be toned down a bit. That woman is as picky as they come.
“Mia? You’re working with Mia on the fundraiser? Wait until I tell Bailey!” Levi howls on the other end of the line. “How’s that going?” he asks between laughs.
I sigh. “She’s the law school representative on the project...It’s going, um...okay.” Levi knows Mia well since she was Bailey’s roommate, so I don’t need to explain myself any further.
Another roar of laughter pierces my ear. “I can only imagine! Bailey says under that pricky exterior is a warm-hearted woman, although personally I saw very few signs of it. But if anyone can handle Mia, you’re the perfect one to do it Otto.”
“Um, thanks I guess.”
“It was a compliment. You won’t let her walk all over you. I’m sure you’ll bring out the best in Mia and you two will work together like a well-oiled Zamboni.”
More like a train wreck , but I keep those thoughts to myself. “We’ll see. Hey, I appreciate the jersey donation, and I’ll let you know how much we get for it. So...What’s it like being a rookie on a professional team?”
We chat for several minutes, commiserating about hockey drills and grumbling about suicide sprints. Levi groans when he describes some of the stunts his teammates are pulling on him. “It’s all in good fun, but believe me, I’ll be glad when I’m no longer the rookie.”
After we hang up, I update Mia’s silent auction spreadsheet with Levi’s jersey donation. Looks like Mia hasn’t garnered many items yet—just a couple gift cards to a local restaurant—so I gloat for a few seconds over my short-lived lead on precuring a high value silent auction item. No doubt Mia won’t rest until she leads in this contest, but for now I need to pull her chain, so I fire off another friendly email.
Subject: Silent Auction Donations
Dear Ms. Robinson,
I was successful in getting Levi Nyberg to donate one of his signed Anaheim Ducks jerseys. It’s going to be framed and will draw interest and bids from sports memorabilia collectors across the nation especially since this is Levi’s rookie season. We should get some extraordinary bids on this one!
Nice job procuring those gift cards.
Always Excelling,
Otto
P.S. Floyd says hi.
Laughing, I hit Send. Now I wait. . .