Chapter 3
Mal
PAST
Two boys stand in front of her as if they are trying to keep her hidden. I can’t stop looking at her; she is happiness. She’s so pretty and tiny. Long black hair and skin that’s darker than mine. She’s smiling so widely; this must be a good place, a happy place.
I wave and smile back.
She giggles, earning an angry look from the taller boy.
We’re going to be friends forever; I just know it. The other two boys scowl and try to pull her away, but she laughs at them and returns to watching me curiously.
I refocus on the conversation the adults are having.
“He will be here until he ages out.”
“Yes, that’s fine, so will these three.”
My parents are dead, that sadness fills me again. I’d forgotten it for a minute.
They died, and there’s no one else who wants me. I had family, an aunt and uncle, but they couldn’t take me.
No one wanted me.
“Vae, get here,” Maria snaps.
Vae bounces over, ignoring the protests of the boys, and stares up at me. She’s got the most beautiful green and gold eyes.
I’ve never seen anyone like her.
“You're mine now,” she says with a toothy grin.
Her words send a thrill through me.
“What’s your name?”
“Malcolm.”
“I’m going to call you Mal and keep you forever.”
The anxiety, the bubble that has been threatening to have me locked in tears, pops, and I relax into the words this little girl is saying.
I’m hers. Forever.
“Okay.”
Her smile makes the rain and my tears stop falling.
PRESENT
Deacon and I sit shoulder to shoulder, glaring towards the front of the room where the Scented Scorpion coaches are loitering. It’s a closed meeting with just the players, the coaches, and the owner.
Ominous.
I’m still reeling from Vae’s announcement two days ago. Fuck this meeting, I need to go find Vae and convince her she shouldn’t be leaving. Ever. Period.
Still, the way this has been called, the way everyone is gathered, leads me to believe one thing: whatever information we’re about to hear is going to be something that shakes the club up.
I instantly think of Vae again. I love hockey; it’s my life, but Vae is forever. We’re family. We’re the Lost Boys. I don’t understand why it has to change.
I rub my aching head, wishing I’d drank less and slept more. The lights in here are too bright, and the Scented Scorpion logo on the screens is making me feel ill as it bounces around like a screensaver.
Indy had gotten upset with me when I wasn’t happy about Vae leaving. It made me feel somewhat icky, the way she was acting. It’s the first time I’ve seen that side of Indy, and I didn’t like it.
Raynor and Deacon still aren’t talking; otherwise, I would have gone to them and explained Indy’s tantrum and asked them what to do.
Raynor isn’t talking to anyone. He’s refusing to come out of his room, instead living in the dark and playing those mournful songs of his that just depress the house. His bond lies icy cold inside me.
Everytime I think about Vae leaving, I get this ball in my chest that is both fizzy and so damn heavy. Change and I are not good bedfellows.
She can’t leave us. No, I’ll explain the situation, and she’ll stay. I know she’ll listen to reason.
I cross my arms as Marilyn approaches the front of the room, stopping in front of the podium. Now, here’s an alpha who is terrifying. Today she’s wearing a black shirt and a grey pencil skirt, but, I swear, this alpha could get out on the ice and wipe the floor with most of the team.
I glance around us; hardly any of the team are paying attention. Most of us have temper problems and are just plain aggressive. We’re struggling. I haven’t even played an official game for them yet, but in every practice, we are struggling.
We all know it, and our failure is just driving us all into even more aggressive tactics and lashing out at each other. It’s a toxic circle of alpha anger and feedback loops.
Why is the owner smirking at us? Why are the staff bracing as if they are getting ready for a fight?
“Thank you all for being here today. As most of you know, I’m Marilyn Mansfield, the director of PR for the Scented Scorpions.”
Yeah, pretty sure all of us know her or, if not know, we know of her. Her gaze sweeps across the room, and I feel a slight vibration from Deacon. I reach out, slamming a hand down on his thigh, stopping him from saying or doing anything stupid that might hurt us.
“This has been a rough season so far, and the press is essentially tearing you apart. I know that Coach Wallace and Mr. Durst have already made you aware of the repercussions of such a season. At this time, we need to take the threat of disbanding the team quite seriously.”
Disbanding? I sit up and forward, staring at her intently. This is my first year; if I lose this club, I might never get on the ice again. I can’t lose this. That fizzy, heavy ball gets even bigger, and my mouth goes dry, leaving my head spinning and me feeling like I might throw up.
“Breathe, Mal,” Deacon whispers in my ear. “We have this.”
Yes, we do. Breathe.
“Sit your ass down and listen,” Coach commands.
I jerk my head around and see Julius standing. The coach stares at him, and he stares right on back. The tension in the room becomes unbearable, and several other players around us shift in their seats.
He finally flops down, and I let loose the tension I’m holding.
I refocus on Marilyn. She’s tapping her fingers in the same way that Vae does just before she loses her temper completely.
“No one wants to see that happen. So, we will implement a number of PR strategies to help with this team’s optics.
I will need to speak with you all individually about your role in this.
However, we want to make it clear to everyone that this is not optional.
All players are expected to follow directions.
This means if you are asked to go on a public date, you do it.
If your presence is required at a charity function, you arrive on time and dress appropriately.
You will do as you’re asked without complaint. ”
I hiss, but Deacon is rigid, his jaw jutted and defiance dripping out of every pore.
“I’m not going on any public fucking dates,” Julius Keene announces. Our captain is a hothead, but he’s devoted to this team.
We watch in silence as he and Marilyn lock eyes, their silent battle fought and won in seconds.
“You will do as you’re told or you will find yourself back in the minor riding the bench,” Marilyn says slowly.
Is she serious? I sit up, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. How can they allow this? How can they make us do this? Dates? I don’t want to go on dates.
“This is bullshit,” Julius mutters.
“I promise it won’t be all that bad. We need the press to report other things about this team.
We need to give them something more interesting than your dismal failures to look at.
Hopefully, it will buy us enough time to meet the league's requirements. You need to win or tie at least fifty percent of your remaining games…”
“They can’t do this to us,” I whisper to Deacon. “There have to be unions or rules, maybe in our contracts or-”
Deacon doesn’t respond; he doesn’t take his eyes off her. And if looks could kill, she would be a corpse.
“And how will we be winning games if you’re so busy prancing us all over town?” Julius continues the conversation, but I don’t want to hear it anymore.
Vae, and now Hockey? No, I can’t. I have to get out of here; I have to-
Deacon grips my arm, anchoring me to the chair. Our silent fight going completely unnoticed by the rest of our team.
“Are you telling me your skill level is so low that a date or charity function would impede your performance?”
I start to laugh at her ridiculous jibe. Julius could go to ten in a row and still lead us in a battle on the ice every night. It’s stupid, but Julius falls for her obvious ploy.
“My performance is just fine.”
The team laughs, but I’m not laughing. I can’t calm down. I’m still fighting Deacon, but now he’s got me almost on his lap, my arms trapped by my side. The ball in my chest feels like it’s going to crush me. I stare at the side of his face, silently pleading with him to let me go.
Our bond throbs with my distress, but he doesn’t acknowledge it at all.
Marilyn taps the microphone. I’m dimly aware of her talking again. I focus on the words.
“Now that we have that cleared up, you may go. Please reach out if you have any questions. I’ll be in touch soon with your assignments. Don’t test me. Don’t try me. You aren’t getting out of this.”
And she just swans out, leaving the team shattered.
Deacon lets me go, and I bolt out of the room, racing for the toilet, where I hurl up all the contents I had for breakfast.
I haven’t done this for a while, but it’s bringing my teen years back in a hot flash. Through the bond, I feel the musical notes of Raynor and realise that he’s felt our distress and come for us.
I rinse my mouth out and wander into the kitchen, where I lean against the cupboard. Raynor stalks in like he owns the place, not stopping until he’s right up against me, and slams our bodies together. I wrap myself around him because he is the rock, the steady song, the comfort.
Deacon is our protector, but Raynor brings something different. He’s the safe place to land when everything starts spinning out of control.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not. Everything is falling apart.”