Chapter 3
nico
During the next break, I left the league’s offices and found a quiet corner in the hallway. I called the Condors’ office and asked for Bill Tyson, the GM, expecting an argument from the receptionist. Instead, she put me through.
I started talking as soon as he answered. “I’m uptown at the HFNA offices. Do you know what’s going on here?”
“Yes.” His voice was careful. “Are you excited about your new adventure?”
“As excited as if I’d fallen into a sewer.” I tried to keep my voice down, but it was still too loud. “What the fuck, Bill? I can’t be away from the team. This is a stupid idea, and on top of that, they’re trying to make me work with—”
“Your old buddy, Paquette.” Now, he sounded gleeful.
“Old buddy?” Bill and I became friends when he was the assistant GM. One night after Packy robbed us of a win over Buffalo, I’d told Bill about our history over a bottle of scotch.
“You know how I feel about him,” I said in the present, “and this will not end well. Every time he looks at me with that pretty-boy face, I want to punch him. Then he does some weird fuck-you thing with his eyes, and the bottom drops out of my stomach.”
“Listen to yourself. Do you really hate him? Because it sounds a little like—”
“Please, Bill. I don’t want to do this. Send Bennett. It’s the kind of bullshit he loves, and he’d get along fine with Packy.”
“Won’t work. The league specifically requested you because of your history with Paquette. Everyone knows you two don’t get along, and I’m sure they’re banking on that to spike interest.”
“They don’t know everything that happened with us, though. You do. Why the fuck didn’t you tell them?”
“What makes you think I didn’t? The woman who called said it would be all the better because you could channel your hatred into something positive.”
“There is no positive where Packy’s concerned.” I stared at an electrical closet while I calmed down because I had to persuade Bill to help me. Finally, I asked, “What if we let that part of it go? Tell the commissioner something’s come up with the Condors, and you can’t be without me right now.”
Bill laughed. The bastard laughed at me. “You’ll only miss a handful of games. Do you think Gasser wouldn’t want a chapter-and-verse description of the big problem? In case you’ve been living in a dream world, he’s not known for his flexibility.”
“Fuck him. Please help me get out of this. I can’t work with that son of a bitch Packy.”
“I’m due at a meeting, Nico.” He sighed.
“Look, I’d help you if I could, but it would only make things worse.
If you weren’t good with people, you wouldn’t be the Condors’ captain.
Put all the bullshit with Paquette aside and make the next few months easier on yourself.
Hell, you might thank us all before it’s over. Maybe you two will forgive and forget.”
I wanted to hurl my phone against the wall. “No. I—”
“Gotta run, Nico. See you around.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, chest heaving, while heat crawled up my neck. If I were a praying man, I might’ve said a few Hail Marys. I’d need divine intervention to get through this without landing in jail on a murder charge.
An hour later, after a private coaching session from Marissa, Packy and I shuffled into the office lounge, which had been converted into a temporary recording studio. She pointed at two chairs behind a table, opposite four reporters and a bank of cameras.
I glanced at Packy and shuddered. If my grin looked as fake as his, we were already in trouble.
Mark Jessup from CSN went first. “Hi, guys. I know you both, but I’ve never seen you together off the ice.
During games, you do anything you can to get in the other’s way, which usually ends with a fight.
You’ve practically made a career out of hating each other, and now the league says you’re teaming up for an outreach program. Did someone lose a bet?”
Packy leaned forward, smiling like we were giving out skating tips. “Nico and I have known each other since college.” He nudged my leg under the table hard enough to leave a bruise. “We’re old friends.”
“Very old,” I said, flashing my best camera grin. “We’re inseparable.”
The reporters laughed.
“Wait.” Jessup raised his eyebrows. “This is you we’re talking about. You can’t mean the same two guys who got matching ten-minute misconducts for beating each other with your sticks last October?”
“An old bonding ritual,” Packy said. “A team-building exercise, even though we’re on different teams.”
The reporters cracked up, and I shot Packy a smirk. “You call it bonding, I call it assault.”
“Semantics,” he said, grinning and spreading his hands in front of him. “Besides, Nico’s basically like a bad case of herpes. He keeps coming back.”
Everyone in the room laughed, and I rolled my eyes at Packy. “Nah, you’re the disease.”
His grin looked real, like he’d forgotten we were faking it. Everyone laughed again, and when Packy joined in, I couldn’t resist.
He tilted his head, and his hair caught the light again.
I used to think the blondish streaks were highlights, but eventually figured out they were just him.
His eyes sparkled, and I realized I’d never gotten them out of my mind: gray-blue with a flash of amber, like his eyeballs were showing off. Typical.
I leaned close to his ear and whispered, “You better watch yourself, you sorry sack of shit.”
He shielded his mouth with a hand. “Then don’t say we’re inseparable. It nearly made me throw up.”
The reporter from Sportsnet spoke up, clearly enjoying herself. “So, to confirm, there’s no chance one of you will punch the other during a classroom visit?”
I shook my head. “Not unless he mouths off.”
“I never mouth off,” he deadpanned.
The reporter grinned. “Are you sure this new outreach program isn’t secretly anger management?”
“Maybe both,” I said. “Multitasking.”
Packy leaned back and folded his hands like an angel. “See? Personal growth already.”
Jeanette Bronson, an ESPN reporter, spoke up. “Nico and Packy, what are your thoughts about this new PR campaign? The league has done them before, but the earlier efforts were shorter. This one will cover months and require more time away from your teams. Is it worth it?”
Packy spoke first. “Compared to football, basketball, and baseball, hockey’s still a small sport. But hockey’s amazing, and if we can get more people interested, everyone will benefit. Spreading the word and helping more people discover what we do is well worth missing a few games.”
“Agreed,” I said. “We won’t be out for more than one game every couple of weeks. The team owners are all on board, and I trust them to know what’s best.” He kicked my ankle. “Packy and I are excited about spending time together and meeting as many fans as we can.”
“It’s an honor to be part of this initiative,” Packy said.
Barely managing to hold back a laugh, I said, “For real.”
“I’m sure you’ll be effective,” Jeanette said. “You look great together, and a lot of women will be thrilled to meet you. Men too.”
The thought of us being inseparable had gotten under Packy’s skin, so I twisted the knife. Grinning at him, I said, “You’re a looker, all right. I guess we’re hockey’s answer to a pair of fairy-tale princes.”
He looked into my eyes, and his lips formed the smirk I remembered all too well. “I think you mean I’m the fairy-tale prince. You look like my weird brother who fell off the ugly truck.”
I laughed before I could stop myself, and the reporters cracked up again.
Packy had always been good with one-liners, but I was better. “I think you’ve got it backward, except you didn’t fall off a truck. You ran into it head-on.”
The reporters lost it, and Marissa, standing behind them, gave us a proud smile.
The man from NBC Sports scooted forward. “If we could get serious for a minute…”
The fucker thinks I’m not serious?
“What do you think the response will be to the league’s outreach effort? Can you sell it?”
“Overwhelmingly positive, no question.” Packy cut his eyes toward me, and I read his thoughts: We’re almost done with this one.
“We don’t have to sell anything,” I said. “Hockey’s thrilling for players and fans. If we can convince people to watch one game, they’ll be hooked for life.”
“Nico’s right,” Packy said. “We’re excited about sharing what we love. The sport will sell itself, not us.”
CSN’s reporter spoke again. “I’m still thinking I’ve only seen you together during games. Are you sure you’re friends? Because you wouldn’t have to be to work together.”
Seeing my chance to needle Packy more and shut the reporter up, I put an arm around Packy’s shoulders. He stiffened, and his eyes went as wide as moons.
“Packy and I have been like brothers since the first day of college training camp. I don’t know where you’ve been, but if you see one of us, the other won’t be far behind.” I pulled Packy closer and used my other hand to tap his cheek. “Right, bro?”
His smile looked as sincere as a concrete post. “Oh yeah. This guy’s the peanut butter to my jelly.”
The reporters nodded. Were they actually buying this shit?
Packy leaned over and whispered, “Let go of me, and if you ever fucking touch me again, I’ll whip your ass.”
I nodded and whispered back. “Oh, you’d like that. You’ve always had a thing for my ass.” I paused for effect, then added, “If you whip mine, I’ll return the favor.”
“I… the fuck? You’re sick. I wouldn’t… I’d never touch your filthy ass.”
I’d said it as a joke, but in the weirdest moment of the day, he hadn’t lost his smile while he sputtered. The stress must have been getting to him.
Ten minutes later, Marissa walked us out of the office. “You’re naturals,” she gushed. “I knew you would be. People are going to love you.”
Packy scoffed. “Unless we beat each other up in the middle of some event.”
“Channel what you did with those reporters, and you’ll be fine. Have fun out there.”
We rode down in the same elevator, too busy glaring at each other to say anything. In front of the building, I waited while he did something with his phone, and then asked which way he was going.
“Anywhere away from you. My flight to Buffalo is in two hours, and I just ordered an Uber to take me to the airport.”
I looked into his two-tone eyes. “Safe travels. See you tomorrow in Atlanta.”
Walking away, I peeked back over my shoulder and caught him mid-stretch. Damn, he’d put on some muscle in the last few years. I was still bigger than him, but it wouldn’t be so easy to hold him down if we got into it.