Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
CHANCE
Cameras flash directly on the podium. From this high up, it’s like looking into a sea of exploding stars. After so many years of this circus, I’m still not used to the way cameras actively try to blind us.
Questions erupt from all corners of the conference room.
I only respond to one.
“Chance, why have you been refusing to do after-game interviews? Are you trying to build suspense?”
“You caught me, Harry. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”
Harry Winsbury pauses. He’s a sports journalist with The Millenial Times. Nice guy. A bit overzealous but only because he loves hockey as much as the players he writes about.
I feel a hand land heavy on my shoulder. To my left, Max is grinning painfully. His eyes beam a frantic ‘what are you doing?’
I shrug his hand off and look at the cameras.
“There’s something I need to address, but I wanted to wait until you were all here before I spoke up.” I nod to the line of cameras filling the room. Every major broadcasting network is present and waiting.
“And what exactly is this news you want to share?” Harry prods.
“Don’t tell me you’re trying to retire?” another reporter barks out.
Harry throws them the stink eye.
A low roll of disgruntled murmurs erupt from the journalists. It’s a bit surprising that the media is so sympathetic to me. It wasn’t too long ago that I was being burned at the stake.
“Never gonna happen,” I reply. “You’d have to drag me, kicking and screaming, off the ice. I’m never giving up on hockey.”
Loose, uncomfortable chuckles tell me I may have been a little too intense saying that. Too bad. I mean every word.
“This isn’t about hockey, but it is about something equally important to me.” I clasp my hands and set them on the table. “As you all know, I’m in a relationship.”
“Don’t remind the ladies, Chance. We didn’t bring enough Kleenex,” Harry yells.
The room fills with laughter.
I do not join in. “That’s the thing, Harry. I do want to remind the ladies. And the men. I want the entire world to know this. I am a taken man and I have zero interest in anyone but the woman I fell in love with.”
Max’s eyes are drilling holes into the back of my head.
Harry’s jaw is on the floor.
“The first time I met her, my car had broken down. Like a total idiot, I rejected her when she offered to take a look at it. Despite that, she offered again. That’s who she is. A woman who’ll help a stranger on the road. Who’ll take thirty minutes to fix a car when I can’t even name the parts of an engine. Who’ll give her life to take care of her family. Someone honest to a fault, whip-smart and so beautiful that sometimes all I can do when I’m in front of her is stare.”
I adjust the mike and lean closer so the words reverberate through the speakers.
“Her name is April Elizabeth Brooks. It’s her and no one else.”
“Tell ‘em your truth, McLanely,” Harry encourages.
I shake my head. “This isn’t my truth, Harry. This is THE truth. Immutable. Unobjectionable. And Unchangeable.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Now… any questions?”
A giant bear paw of a hand covers my phone screen and lowers it to the backseat. “Put that down,” Max says, dramatically covering his eyes. “Oh, I have a headache.”
“There are worse things to say at a press conference,” I remind him, pausing the video and putting the phone away.
Max just groans.
I check my watch and cringe. With the way traffic is crawling, I could miss my flight.
Scooting forward, I tell the chauffeur, “I’ll pay triple your fare if you get me to the airport on time.”
“Yes, sir.” He salutes and shifts gears.
Max’s eyes take up half of his face. “What do you mean you’re going to the airport? You’re not heading back to the hotel?”
“No.” My phone buzzes and I take it out, distractedly explaining, “I’m heading back to town now.”
“What about your luggage?”
“Oh, right.” I look up and give him a pleading stare. “Could you handle that for me?”
Max grumbles, “Why would I, the owner of the team, take care of your luggage?”
“I’m not asking the owner of the team,” I reply, noticing that Derek is calling. “I’m asking my best friend from college.”
Max sulks in his seat, but he’s such a giant guy that he can’t even slouch properly. “I’m charging a transportation fee.”
“Send me an invoice.” Sliding the phone to my ear, I smile. “Derek, that was fast. I just left the press conference.”
“You think you can say anything in front of the media and I wouldn’t know about it? I make half my entire salary from that pretty mug of yours.”
I laugh at my agent’s excited tone. “I know what you’re going to say and I’m going to correct you ahead of time. What I did today was not brilliant marketing. I meant every word.”
“Doesn’t make a difference to me. The only thing that needs to be real in my life is money. Speaking of, FreshButtFitt has been hounding me day and night. They want to lock you down for another five years.”
“That’s a gamble. What if I’m no longer relevant in five years?”
“McLanely, everyone with eyes can see that your trajectory is heading in one place and one place only—up. Besides, the currency those companies are looking for is influence, and you have more now than before your suspension.”
“Because of me and April?”
“The family man image doesn’t hurt, but it’s your incredible ice time too. People are watching what you’re doing with that team from Podunk Town and they want more.”
“Lucky Falls.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s luck, Chance. We made an intentional, targeted effort to clean up your act by involving that female mechanic?—”
“The town , Derek. The name is Lucky Falls.”
“Right, right,” he admits, his tone indicating that he’s already forgotten. “I’ve been invited into some rooms, Chance. I can’t give you any more information now, but I’ve got a great feeling about this.”
“What’s with the mystery, Derek?”
He laughs. “I’ll let you know when I have more. Just keep on doing what you’re doing.”
“‘What I’m doing’ is playing the game I love and heading back to town to see my girlfriend.”
“Exactly.”
I sigh in satisfaction. “I’m really living the dream.”
“Because of who?” Derek coos.
“My hard work and my incredible agent?”
Derek laughs. “This is a ruthless world and you made the right combination of choices to survive in it.” A chair creaks in the background and I can picture Derek leaning back as he often does when he’s trying to lecture someone. “Some people have influence with no skill. Some have skill with no influence. You’ve got both, McLanely. That’s a magical combination.”
“Thanks… I guess.”
“ FreshButtFitt isn’t the only company that’s itching to work with you. I’ll send over some contracts. Take your time deciding your next move.”
“Whatever it is, it won’t be with underwear,” I warn him.
He laughs.
I end the call after promising to get back to him on the contracts.
Max glances at me and then at the window, squinting into the sun filing past the windshield. “That your agent?”
“Yeah, Derek.”
“Mm.” A thoughtful, worried look crosses Max’s face. “What’d he say about the press conference?”
“It was good for my image. I’m getting more brand deals. The usual.”
“Mm.”
“Yeah.”
Max starts cracking his knuckles. It’s so loud that the driver jerks the car in shock.
“Sorry, sorry.”
“Sorry. That was me,” Max admits sheepishly.
“I thought something had fallen off the car. Everyone okay back there?” He peers at us through the rearview mirror.
I flash a thumbs-up. Through the window, I notice we’re almost there at the airport. Right on time too.
“Did Derek have any updates from the league?” Max asks casually.
“No, why?”
He shrugs. “If you hadn’t taken control of the narrative at the conference today, that question would have come up.”
He’s not wrong. I feel like that’s the number one question on everyone’s mind since the season started.
“Your fans are even starting to petition for your reinstatement,” Max adds.
“The league won’t be bullied by anyone, not even my fans. Nothing’s certain yet.”
Max nods. “Either way, a deal’s a deal. If you do get called back…”
“I’ll let you know.” The taxi rolls to a stop and I pull out a few hundred-dollar bills. “Don’t ship me off just yet, Max. We still have the play offs.” I climb out of the car and swing my backpack over my shoulder.
“You might not make it to the playoffs with us,” Max mumbles.
I freeze at the resigned tone of his voice.
He sees me watching and smiles. Waving a hand, he motions, “Go give April a hug. We’ll talk more when I get back with the team.”
I hurry inside of the airport, an unsettled feeling in my stomach. It’s not until I’m already boarding the airplane that I realize what it is—unease.
For the first time since I was suspended from the league and drafted to the Lucky Strikers, I’m not excited about returning to where I belong.