14. Goldie
FOURTEEN
GOLDIE
The screens in the owner’s box took up an entire wall. After the action on the ice below ended and the Zambonis started their slow passes, I turned my attention to the after-game interviews.
“Here, Zooey.” Mel handed me a glass of wine. “Lucky you weren’t holding this when your face was plastered on the jumbotron, or else we’d both be wearing a nice Shiraz.” She brushed at my hair. “You still have popcorn everywhere.”
As I stood, an itch between my boobs told me that Mel was right. I stuck my hand down the neck of my T-shirt and retrieved a piece of popcorn that had been stuck on my bra. I popped it into my mouth, chasing it with a sip of wine.
Mel shook her head and laughed. “Only you, Goldie Girl.”
The rest of the people in the box, the owner of the team and his wife, along with a few other business-type people had kept away from me and Mel, especially after the popcorn explosion incident. That and Mel talked through the entire game, asking questions about everything.
“Which one do you think is the hottest?” She sipped her wine as the cameras followed the players exiting the ice.
“I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to say.”
“Oh, come on.” Mel elbowed me and my wine swirled precariously close to the edge of the glass. Before she could execute her self-fulfilling prophecy of me wearing the Shiraz, I downed the entire glass. “I’m not asking for details from their report, or what your opinion is on their skill. I mean, as the coach’s daughter, you probably can’t talk about stuff like that…” she said a little louder than necessary, then whispered, “in public.”
“I’m quite sure the only thing I can talk about is how my dad isn’t going to give you another ticket to the game if you don’t actually watch it.” My stomach growled and I wished that I hadn’t spilled all of the popcorn.
Mel pursed her wine-stained lips and then grinned. “I totally watched it. That player with the cute hair sticking out from under his helmet scored two goals.”
Ace. The guy who scored the goals and my answer to who was the hottest on the team. Most women would’ve said Gideon, or maybe even Ethan. But, as I’d gotten to know all of the men on a one-on-one basis, there was only one who made the world go into slow motion. Only one who made my heart feel like it belonged in a hummingbird’s chest, only one who made me want to break my rule about dating players.
“That’s called a hockey flow,” I said. “Somehow, they’ve made mullets cool again. My dad had one when he played, and now they’ve come back in style.”
“Your dad had hockey flowy hair?” Mel’s eyes sparkled. “I can’t picture that.”
“Hockey flow, not flowy,” I corrected. “And yes, he also grew a huge playoff beard.” As a coach, my father was always clean shaven, and I found it hard to picture him any other way now.
“I’d like to see some photos of Grizzly Swanson. You know what they say about beards.” Mel’s words were starting to slur.
I hoped she wasn’t going to say what I thought she was going to say. It felt like the owner’s box had gotten a lot quieter. “Never mind.” Mel gestured with her hand, the last of the wine sloshing around before she finished it off.
Thankful that my best friend hadn’t said anything about beards and inner thighs in front of my father’s boss, I started to wonder if Mel should ease up on the drinking. She had been saying crass and wildly inappropriate things all night.
Captions marched along the bottom of each screen and my eyes were drawn to the ABT feed. The sportscaster, a beautiful woman name Jenny Kim, was interviewing Ace. His smile lit up the screen as she presented him with the towel and he draped it around his neck, the lettering of the logo matching the blue of his eyes.
He gave the usual responses to her questions, all with a smile on his face. At twenty-seven he had slight crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes and his cheeks were permanently dented with dimples. That smile of his was shaping his face in the best way possible.
As if reading my mind, Mel pointed to the screen. “He looks like the older brother.”
“He’s not.” My eyes were glued to the TV, taking in the words, hearing Ace’s voice as his lips moved soundlessly on the screen.
Jenny Kim asked Ace about the first goal he scored and why he shot at Bellamy’s good side.
A pretty girl told me that she’d go out with me if I did.
I blinked hard, hoping that the words on the screen were a figment of my imagination, but when I opened them, they were still there.
Jenny’s eyes went wide and she looked like she was lost for words. My lips drew into a line— he shouldn’t have said that on National TV —but I couldn’t stop the wave of heat that had swept from my face to my belly.
“Oh my God.” Mel grabbed my arm, but I wasn’t able to look away from the screen until his interview was finished. The sounds of the room started to come back into my world and I turned to face my friend.
“You’re the pretty girl, aren’t you?”
“Shhhh,” I hissed and gave a nervous glance around the room. It was unnecessary. Everyone was in their own world, eating the expensive buffet and congratulating each other with the surprise Tigers’ win.
“He said he was joking.” I pointed to the TV, but I didn’t believe myself. Ace Bailey had spoken directly to me through the screen.
“Come on,” Mel’s voice was low. “He’s had a thing for you ever since the dicksicle dunk, and by the way your face is the same color as the wine, I’d say that the feeling is mutual.”
I gulped. She was right. Somehow, I was falling for the exact kind of man I’d spent my entire life trying to avoid—a player.
“No. I hardly know the guy.”
Mel dragged me to the far end of the box, next to the popcorn machine. “Goldie, I knew you when you were a freshman. You couldn’t lie then and you definitely can’t lie now. I’ve never seen you like this before. What are you going to do about it?”
What was I going to do about it?
I opened the machine and filled up another bag of popcorn. “Nothing. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
Mel pouted. “Come on, can’t you break your stupid rule for once? So what if he’s a hockey player.”
The popcorn crunched as I chewed, trying to make sense of what Ace had said during the interview. I swallowed. “He’s more than a hockey player now, Mel. He’s part of my study—the study I’ve been working on for years.”
“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. Mel lived to work, and understood the importance of earning my master’s degree. She looked up, her gaze meeting mine and her stained lips drawing into a smile. “When is it over?”
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had the exact same thought. If Ace wasn’t in my study, would I date a player and risk being hurt?
A kernel lodged in my throat and I pressed my hand to my chest as I tried to clear it. “Not soon,” I croaked.
Mel handed me one of the bottles of water that were sitting on ice next to the sashimi platters. Replays from the game flickered across the wall of screens. Several versions of Ace Bailey’s grin and after-goal celebrations danced on their screens. “Not soon enough,” I whispered to myself.
“What was that?” Mel’s attention was focused on flagging down the waitress.
“Nothing.” As I chugged the rest of the bottle of water, my phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out and froze as I saw the name on the screen. Ace Bailey was calling me. I pushed the button to ignore the call and blacken the screen, but not fast enough.
Mel raised her eyebrows. “I think you’re going to need another glass of wine.”
“I think you’re right.”
She grinned. “And then we’re going to listen to the voice message.”
“He didn’t leave a voicemail.” As I said the words, the notification that I’d received a voicemail chimed from within my bag.
“Like I said…” She hooked her arm in mine. “Wine first, voicemail second.”
“Not here though.” Most of the people had left the box, but I didn’t want to risk the wrong person overhearing the game’s all-star leaving a message for the coach’s daughter. “Let’s go for a drink at The Hideaway..”
“On a school night?” Mel raised her brows. Earlier, I had told her that I needed to be home early.
“One drink.” I shook my finger at her. “One.”
Mel looped her hand through my arm. “You got it, Goldie Girl. Just one…bottle.” She muttered the last word under her breath.
I rolled my eyes, but laughed. “You’re going to be the death of me. I have to be at the rink at six in the morning for a session with Gideon Bailey.”
“Ooh.” Her eyes widened. “Do you need an assistant? I could help him get into his gown.”
I shook my head and the two of us climbed the stairs from the owner’s box, slipping into the flow of the stadium fans. Once we merged in with the general public, I had to shout above the noise of the crowd. “There’re no gowns.” It reminded me of Ace’s polygraph comment from earlier.
“What’s that grin for?” Mel shifted her handbag as she zipped up her puffy coat.
“Everyone thinks I’m probing and prodding these guys. I’m just asking them questions. Basic questions,” I clarified.
“Too bad.” Mel pointed to the bathroom. “I’ve gotta pee.”
I waited outside the restroom, wondering why Ace Bailey had called me. After pulling the Tigers out of an epic slump, he should be celebrating, not calling me.
Mel reappeared, complete with a full face of makeup. “Change of plans, let’s go for a drink at Ultimate Sports.
“Fine.” I shrugged. They were basically the same place, and Ultimate Sports was closer to the streetcar stop.
The night was frigid and I buried my face in the collar of my jacket. We practically ran to the bar. My heart sank when I realized the line up of people running down the block was for Ultimate Sports.
“I’m just going to go home.” I shook my head. “I don’t feel like getting hypothermia tonight.”
Mel grabbed my hand. “Come on. We’re not waiting in a line.”
“What?” I was confused, but let Mel drag me to the front of the line. She worked for one of the top realtors in the city, but little Mel Malone didn’t have front-of-the-line pull at McDonald’s, let alone Ultimate Sports.
The bouncer looked annoyed as we approached, but before he could send us to the back of the line, Mel pointed to his clipboard. “Mel Malone and Goldie Swanson.”
The bouncer took in my jeans, handknit mittens, and ten-year-old peacoat heathered with Morton’s grey fur, and dubiously scanned the clipboard tracing the names with his fingerless gloves. To his apparent surprise, and mine, he stepped aside and unhooked the velvet rope.
“Right this way, Miss Malone and Miss Swanson.”
“Thank you.” Mel batted her eyelashes at him.
“Thanks,” I echoed.
I tugged off my mittens and matching wool hat and shoved them in the pockets of my coat. Ultimate Sports was a trendy sportsbar, not a nightclub, but most of the women inside hadn’t gotten the memo. Mixed amongst throngs of fans wearing orange and black jerseys, young women in dresses and heels sashayed around the room. “How did you do that?”
Mel cupped her hand around her ear, “What?”
“How did you get us on the list?” I shouted.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she gestured for me to follow her. “Come on, there’s got to be a place we can squeeze in at the bar.”
There wasn’t a square inch free at the bar. Every table was filled and my feet were starting to hurt. “I think I’m going to go home.” While I pulled my mittens from the pocket of my jacket, a subtle hush fell around us.
“Ethan Turner,” someone behind me gushed.
I turned, and sure enough, subject number six from my study was walking towards us, leaving a wake of starstruck fans behind him.
“Professor Goldie.” He grinned. “What are you doing here?”
Mel stepped beside me. “This is my friend, Mel. We were at the game tonight and were hoping to celebrate your win with a drink.”
“Hi, Mel.” Ethan shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Mel brushed her dark hair behind her ear.
The bar was crowded, and as a couple of guys tried to get past us, they ended up getting jostled into Mel. She lost her balance and stumbled toward Ethan. He spread his arm protectively behind both of us. “Hey, watch your step,” he shouted at the guys, who had continued to stagger and bump into everyone they passed. “Fucking drunks,” he muttered. “Are you all right?”
If I wasn’t already enamored with a Toronto Tiger, Ethan Turner’s protective chivalry would’ve gone a long way. I was surprised that Mel hadn’t flipped on her flirty-girl persona, but she kept glancing around the room, as though looking for someone. It struck me as odd. One of the hottest players in the game was standing in front of us, and he had just saved her from a tumble to the sticky bar floor.
“I’m fine.” Mel’s gaze returned to Ethan. “But we can’t get close enough to the bar to get a drink.”
A grin spread across Ethan’s face. “I can help you with that. Come with me.” He crooked his arm, and Mel slid her hand into his elbow. “We’ve got a booth at the back.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good…” Ethan and Mel had already proceeded to part the sea of people ahead of us. The crowd stepped aside as we passed, as though we were royalty. “…idea,” I sighed and followed behind them.
The booth was at the back of the bar, and flanked with security personnel. They let Mel and Ethan through, but the burly man with the tattoos and earpiece dropped his hand like a tollbooth arm in front of me. “VIP only.”
Mel and Ethan were shimmying in next to some of the players I hadn’t met and didn’t see that I’d been denied entry to their fancy table.
A weight pressed onto my shoulder and I froze. Even before he spoke, I knew whose warm hand was resting on top of my sweatshirt. “This is the VIP-est of all.” Ace’s voice always had a slight laugh in its tone.
“My apologies, miss.” The bouncer dropped his arm. “Great goals tonight, bud.” He fist-bumped Ace.
“Thanks, Manny.” Ace gestured for me to step onto the elevated platform. “What are you doing out?” He pulled out a chair for me and perched at the edge of the banquette seat, his elbow on the table.
“Mel wanted to come for a drink after the game.” I tilted my head to where Mel was sandwiched between two players.
“Mel!” Ace shouted and waved to her. She grinned and returned the gesture.
Ace focused his attention on me, scanning up and down my body, stopping at my eyes. “She looks like she’s quite comfortable over there.” When he smiled, the room seemed to get a little bit quieter. His gaze dropped to my sweatshirt—again.
“What are you looking at?” I asked, surprised at my own brazenness.
“Your shirt. I think that I have the same one. I should probably check the tag and make sure you didn’t steal mine.” He rested his hand on the hood part of my sweatshirt, his thumb tucked into the back by the tag.
I shrugged his hand off. “Does your mom sew your name into all of your clothes?”
The grin amped up a notch and things in the room started to disappear around us. “Just my boxers.” He grabbed the bucket of bottles from the middle of the table and set a glass in front of me. “What’s your poison?”
Four draft beers over the three periods, mixed with the two glasses of wine, had left me a bit more than tipsy. “I probably shouldn’t have any more to drink tonight.” I pointed to the bottle of sparkling water.
“I probably shouldn’t have any more to drink tonight either, so vodka?” He held up a bottle of Grey Goose. “Come on, Professor. We have to celebrate the fact that you won this game tonight.”
“Me?” I pressed my hand to my chest. “I believe you were the one holding the stick.”
Ace’s eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline and his lips pursed into a line. “You know I’m holding back with that one.”
Shaking my head, I tried to pretend I hadn’t dropped an innuendo. Instead of telling him to grow up, I leaned in. “Give it your best shot—all-star. I bet that the only thing you can come up with is something about me holding your stick.”
He coughed and then pounded his chest. I grabbed the bottle of sparkling water and handed it to him. He chugged the remainder of it straight from the bottle and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”
Without asking, he dropped ice cubes into two glasses and poured at least three fingers’ worth of vodka and opened a bottle of soda to top up the drinks. “But you already knew that.” He handed the drink to me and held his up.
“It wasn’t hard.” I touched my glass to his, realizing that I had done it again. He smiled as he drank, but didn’t say anything. At the very least he could’ve thrown out a “that’s what she said” comment. “I’ve spent the last week hanging out with your lot, so I know eighth-grade humor is your brand.”
His eyes sparkled as he took another sip. “Or you are a fortune teller.”
I paused halfway through sipping the eye-wateringly strong drink. “What?”
“You know, someone who can see the future. How else did you know about the goalie shot tonight?”
This was not where I expected the conversation to go. A laugh erupted across the table and I caught Mel sucking on a lime. A line of empty shot glasses littered the table in front of her and the players.
I sighed. “I’ve been studying concussions. That means watching hours upon hours of game tapes. Bellamy has been hit in the head so many times with the puck, I’m surprised he’s still in the game. “Plus, everyone goes low with him. If you watch recent tapes, he sets up for low shots. I’m not psychic, I just have eyeballs.”
“Maybe you should be our coach.” He couldn’t have known that it hurt my heart to hear people speak negatively about my dad, even indirectly.
I sipped the drink, crunching on an ice cube. “I think you guys are going to turn things around, and your coach is the best in the league.”
Ace nodded. “He’s good. But, if you’re a chef with shitty ingredients, there’s only so much you can do.”
“The ingredients aren’t shitty. They just needed to ripen.”
His eyes softened and seemed to glisten. “You always say the right things.”
“Well, I should go. I told Mel I was going to come for one drink.” I finished the fiery liquid in one gulp, and with watering eyes, set the glass on the table. “And that’s one drink.”
“You didn’t come to meet me here?” His brow knitted.
“You?”
“Yeah. I thought that you got my message and that’s why you’re here.”
“You called me?” I hoped that my acting skills were better than my drinking skills. I pulled my phone out of my bag and pretended to be surprised by what I saw on the screen. “I missed a call from you.”
“Do me a favor.” He poured two more drinks with even boozier proportions. “Can you go listen to that message before you leave here tonight?”
With the tips of my fingers, I nudged the drink away from me. “I’ll listen to it on the way home.”
“No, Goldie.” He rested his hand on mine. “Please listen to it now. It’s important.”
The joker was gone and the serious tone in his voice left me intrigued. “Fine. I’ll go to the restroom and listen—but then I’m going home. I have an early start tomorrow.”
He patted my hand and the sides of his mouth quivered as they turned into a smile. There was a slight tremble in his hand as he handed me my phone.
I held it up and waggled it. “I’ll be right back.”
Like the drunks earlier, I ricocheted off of a few people on the way to the restroom. I hadn’t been this intoxicated in a very long time. Once inside the stall, I locked the floor-to-ceiling glossy black door and leaned against it.
With a deep breath, I pressed the voicemail button.