Chapter 4
JAYDEN
Training camp is basically over. There’s one more exhibition game in Calgary, but I’m not playing in that game.
For camp, we’re divided into two teams and as cuts are made to the roster, the teams get smaller then combined into one.
Coach is letting us “veterans” rest rather than travel to Calgary.
There’s really only a few guys they want to watch during this last pre-season game before they submit the opening day roster to the league on Tuesday.
So some of the guys are coming over to my place to watch the game and hang out.
Before anyone arrives, I have to take Frank for his evening walk, so I leash him up and head out. The tall buildings in the neighbourhood keep the streets in the shadows of low evening sun. We stroll along Richards Street, Frank pausing to sniff along the way to the park.
“We can’t stay long tonight, buddy,” I tell him. “We’ve got company coming.”
Once on the turf in the park, he does his business quickly, thankfully. I take him to the dog run area for a quick frolic. As soon as he’s off the leash, he takes off running. I saunter behind him and then I see why he was so speedy: he’s found his new buddy, Betty.
And Stella.
She’s crouched down, patting Frank, and looks up for me. I smile as I approach and she smiles back.
I’m still flabbergasted by seeing her at that game.
She looked different, dressed in a sharp pantsuit in a blue-grey colour, the jacket fitted to her slender curves, the pants wide, a silky top beneath, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
She looked like the literal definition of girl boss, ready to kick ass and get shit done.
I’m still trying to get my head around who she is. Obviously, I had to google her when I got home that night. Now my flabbers are even more ghasted. I don’t know what I thought she did for a living, but running a big tech company was not even in my top ten guesses. She has a fucking Wikipedia page!
Well, so do I. But mine is short.
Hers is long and impressive. And intimidating as fuck.
I was also bummed about her rejection the other night. I like women and I like having a social life as much as I can given my schedule, and Stella seemed really cool. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but I guess it’s possible she has a boyfriend. Or she’s just not interested in me.
I really felt like she was, though.
There was something… a little flicker, a little heat. Or maybe I’m a dumbass and I’m imagining it all. Especially now I know who she is.
I keep my expression neutral as I stop near them. “Hi, Stella.” I drop my gaze. “And Betty.”
“Hi, Jayden.”
She knows my name.
She straightens. Today, she’s dressed in navy leggings, a white T-shirt, and a thick white sweater. Back to the casual girl-next-door look. “How are you?”
“Good. You?”
This sucks. I never should have invited her out for a drink. Then our paths crossed at the arena and now things are weird.
“I’m okay. Happy it’s Friday.”
“Rough week?”
“Yeah, a bit.” She shrugs, still smiling, and turns to watch our dogs chase each other.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“No big deal. Business stuff.” She waves a hand. “Now I know who you are… how’s training camp going?”
“We’re done. Last exhibition game is tonight.”
“When’s the season opener?”
“Thursday next week. But I think you know that.”
“Um… yeah. So I guess you made the team.”
I can see she’s teasing. I mean, nobody’s guaranteed a spot on the roster, but I’ve been with the Orcas or their farm team since I was drafted seven years ago, so I was pretty sure I was okay. “Well, they still have to cut a few more players. Who knows.”
“I think you’re safe.”
“Whew.”
She laughs.
There’s a floundering pause. Finally, I say, “I still think it’s hilarious how much alike our dogs look.”
“Right? We better be careful we don’t get them mixed up and take the wrong one.”
Now I laugh. “We’d realize it soon enough, when they stopped to pee.”
“Haha. True!”
“Also, I think I’d notice that collar.” Betty’s collar is bright pink with red strawberries and a cute bow. I check my watch. “Damn, I have to go. Frank! Frank, come!”
Frank’s not always obedient, but tonight, he is and he comes running. I give him a little treat out of my pocket. “Can I give Betty a treat?”
“Oh. Sure.”
Betty gently takes the dog cookie from my hand and crunches it.
“Attaboy. Okay, Frank we gotta roll, my man.”
“Plans tonight?” Stella says.
My hands pause in the act of fastening Frank’s leash.
Why is she asking? Is she making small talk or…
shit. “Yeah, I do.” Do I sound apologetic?
I face her, wishing I could ditch my teammates and tell her no, I’m as free as that seagull flying above us.
“I warned Frank we’d have to be quick tonight.
Have fun, Betty. Sorry to take your new buddy away. ”
“Bye.” Stella’s smile is cheerful. “You have fun, too.”
Yeah, she was just making small talk. Dammit.
I’m as salty as a stadium pretzel as we leave the park to go home. I’d rather stay and talk to Stella. Maybe make a fool of myself asking her out again.
Nah. This is for the best. She is way out of my league and anyway, I’m not looking for a relationship. Not right now. Maybe someday.
I get home to my condo in a nearby high-rise only a few minutes before LG arrives: Laurent Gagné, new team captain and my best buddy on the team.
We’ve both been playing for the Orcas for a few years, so we’re two of the few who’ve seen this team win.
It’s been hard on both of us to live through this epic slump.
He comes in with a bottle of tequila and a shopping bag that appears to be full of food.
Frank greets him enthusiastically, spinning on his skinny legs. LG bends down to give him some attention, which he loves, then straightens. “Got the good stuff.” He holds up the bottle.
Frank does a couple of laps around my condo.
“Training camp’s done but we still have to practice,” I remind him.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But we have a day off tomorrow so let’s have one night of fun.”
I could have had one night of fun with Stella.
I sigh. I don’t know that. Maybe I’m once again imagining too much.
“What cat bit you?” LG asks as he pulls out a huge bag of tortilla chips.
“What?” I scowl at him. “Cat?”
“Why are you so grouchy?” he says patiently. “Quel chat t’a mordu?”
LG is Québécois, from Saint-Jér?me. He speaks English really well with only a slight accent but every once in a while, he comes up with something odd, and he curses in French when he’s super pissed.
“Nobody bit me.” I shake my head and take the container of guacamole to put it in the fridge. “Is it Mexican night?”
“Yeah.” He grins. “I like to coordinate things.” He also unpacks a jar of salsa and a bag of limes.
The rest of the guys show up: Bish, Cammy, Sammy, Dolly, Rocky, Gus, and Moose. Those are all nicknames, naturally. These are the guys I’m closest to on the team. Notably, we’re all single.
They’re the guys on the team who mostly get along.
Tensions over the last few seasons have kind of divided us and it sucks.
And I say mostly, because I get the feeling Bish and Sammy don’t like each other.
But I wanted to invite Sammy because he just got traded to the team last year and I feel like we should try to include him.
He seems like a good guy. Also, he’s a great player and we had big hopes for how he’d help the team. That didn’t happen, though.
“Well, training camp’s done,” Cammy says, taking a beer from me. “Ready for another exciting season.” He rolls his eyes.
Cam Lacroix. Also a new team member last season. He seems like a good guy, but he’s got a chip on his shoulder about being traded to a crap team. He’s also bitter because his ex-wife ditched him after the trade.
I hold another one out to Dolly, AKA Leif Dahlgren. He’s from Sweden and his English is almost as good as LG’s. We used to tell him he sounded like the Swedish chef from The Muppets but he really doesn’t.
He holds up a bottle of Absolut vodka.
“No aquavit tonight?”
He grins. “Not tonight.”
“That stuff is horrible.” I grimace. “Like a bottle of gin and a loaf of rye bread had a baby.”
He laughs. “It’s an acquired taste.”
I get some bowls out of a cupboard and slam them on the counter, then rip open bags of chips and dump them in.
The guys give me a wary look.
“He’s grouchy,” LG explains.
“Why?” Dolly picks up a chip.
“I met a girl,” I tell them. “She turned me down.”
“No!”
They all make fake shocked noises. I lift my middle finger at them as I find the remote control for the TV.
“How vill you survive?” Dolly asks.
“I saw her again tonight, and I think she was interested.” I turn on the TV. “But I’m busy with you assholes.”
“She was probably just being nice to you after busting your balls,” LG says. “Felt sorry for you.”
That’s not out of the question and it pisses me off. Now for sure I’m not going to tell them who she is.
I find the game channel but it hasn’t started yet so we watch SportsBuzz.
“We have the same dog,” I tell them, throwing myself down onto my sofa with my beer. Frank immediately joins me, on my lap almost before my ass hits the cushion.
“You share a dog?” Cammy’s forehead creases not unlike Frank’s.
“No. Our dogs are the same breed. Even the same colour.”
“Aaaah.” Cammy sits on the couch, too, and Frank abandons me for him. Luckily, the guys all like dogs.
“You could’ve cancelled,” LG says.
“No, he couldn’t!” Gus sounds outraged. “Don’t be that guy.”
“That’s just rude,” Rocky agrees.
“I, for one, would totally understand.” Bish sits in a chair. “Hoes before bros.”
“That’s not how that goes,” I say. “It’s bros before hoes. You’re supposed to prioritize your male friends over a potential love interest. Also, calling women hoes is offensive.”
Bish rolls his eyes and looks away. But… did I detect a hint of guilt? Probably not.
“Love interest?” LG asks. “That sounds pretty serious for someone you haven’t even dated yet.”
I wave a hand.
“That’s not what the bro code says.” Rocky carries over a bowl of chips and sets it on the coffee table. “If a guy friend gets between you and a potential “love interest”, is he even your friend?”
“Right,” Bish agrees. “Didn’t Jerry Seinfeld say all plans between guys are tentative?”
Rocky laughs. “Yeah. If you have a chance for some action, you take it. Never mind what your friend plans are.”
“I knew a guy who was late for his buddy’s wedding because he hooked up with someone he met on the way there.” Gus nods.
“That’s bullshit,” I say.
“True story!”
“Maybe, but that guy’s an asshole.” I shake my head. “That whole bro code thing is misogynistic as fuck.”
“Mr. Enlightened,” Bish says.
He’s always got the snark. I ignore it.
“You’re right,” LG says to me. “Bros before hoes, I mean, women, sounds good, but what happens when that whole bro code means guys are covering up for each other’s bad behaviour?”
I wince inwardly, my stomach knotting. Memories from my teenage hockey career still make me squirm with misery. “Happens all the time in hockey,” I mutter. “Isn’t that the hockey code? Protecting teammates? Even when someone does something shitty?”
“There are a lot of rules in the hockey code,” Sammy says, speaking for the first time. He’s a quiet guy, but when he talks, he actually says something. “Not all of them are bad.”
I give him a look. “Lots of them are, though.”
“I don’t disagree. Covering up bad shit is, well, shitty.”
I’m glad someone’s on my side.
Actually, most of these guys are. I know them. They talk shit but deep down inside… I’d like to think they wouldn’t accept shitastic behaviour. Maybe I’m stupid for thinking that.
“Protecting your teammates is a good thing when someone stabs you with the blade of their stick or whacks you across the head with it,” Sammy says.
“Being the Devil’s advocate…” LG says. “Maybe it’s better to let the refs deal with that.” All of us make groans of disagreement and LG grins. “I know, I know. It’s been drilled into us our whole lives.”
“Okay, but no sucker punches is a good rule,” Sammy goes on. “And we don’t shoot pucks into an empty net. We don’t touch the goalie.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “But if someone does that to our goalie, we throw down.”
Actually, I’m not sure that’s true. It’s one of the things that bugs me about this team. I remember last season when Miller from Pittsburgh shoved Frosty into the net just as the whistle blew. I was on the bench, and I expected every guy on the ice to go after him, but no. Nothing.
The game is starting but it’s only an exhibition game so we keep talking as we watch.
We’ve got our eyes on a few guys, though.
Most of our forward group is already set, but the fourth line isn’t.
There are two guys who’ve played for the farm team who could fill depth roles maybe with Abby at center, but there’s also our first round draft, Finnegan Kemper, who’s fucking amazing.
“It’s been fun playing with him at camp,” I remark, referring to Finn. “He’s so fucking fast.”
“Yeah,” LG agrees. “Great skater, fantastic edges.”
“We could use his speed,” Rocky says.
“Hell, yeah.”
“You old guys are too slow,” Cammy says, meaning me and LG.
“Fuck off,” I say mildly. “I’m not even in my prime yet.”
Yeah, we could use the rookie’s speed. We could use a lot of things. Maybe this season will be different.
My inner skeptic isn’t very confident, though. I hate it that I’m not looking forward to the start of the regular season like I used to. All this losing is turning me into a real doomster.