Chapter 26
The next morning, my mother forwards me a photo from social media, taken outside the stadium. It’s a shot of me jogging after Chase like a puppy that’s been left behind.
Chasing Chase Merritt! Trouble in Paradise?
I hate the internet. I really do.
Mom: What is THIS?
Zoe: I was running for the van! Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.
Mom: Just don’t forget what happened the last time with that boy. He never cared about you. But you don’t listen.
Good grief. If she follows up with “boys only want one thing,” we might fall through a hole in the universe and end up in the 1950s.
I put the phone down. I can’t afford to think about Chase right now, or about the jamboree. It’s a willful act of forgetfulness, in the same way that not opening a bill prevents you from knowing how much you owe or when you need to pay it.
I’m too busy planning my upcoming master class, which the whole team will attend. This is my chance to get in front of the holdouts, so it had better be the best damn ninety minutes in the history of skating.
My vow to ignore Chase is challenged, though, during our matchup with Boston. It’s a home game, so I watch from the press box. And I scream like a lottery winner when Chase gets two assists and a goal.
We win the game 4–2, and the next day The Athletic actually prints: Chase Merritt is back from the dead, scoring for the Legends again.
I’m practically levitating with glee, at least until I slip into Steve Sailor’s mandatory PR meeting at one minute to ten.
Most of the seats are already taken, but the bagels are plentiful.
I grab a sesame bagel and spread half with lox schmear and half with strawberry cream cheese.
Et voilà: lunch on one side of my plate and dessert on the other.
Then I skip the empty seats in the front row in favor of a spot along the back wall.
I’ve just taken my first bite when Chase runs in at one minute past the hour, stealing my glory as the last person to arrive. He also grabs a bagel and hurriedly fixes it up on a plate. I’m not surprised when he ends up at the back wall, too. Everybody knows the front row is for suckers.
“Thank you for coming,” Steve Sailor says, opening the meeting. “The jamboree is the team owner’s favorite charitable event, and we’re going to do an excellent job this year. Allow me to introduce Veena Miller, who once again will be our showrunner. Welcome, Veena!”
There’s a big round of applause, and I take a moment to notice that Veena Miller is a very attractive woman.
She’s approximately seventy feet tall in heels and wearing a dress in a color I could only describe as expensive pink.
Fashion baffles me, but it does not baffle Veena, who looks stunning, with perfect highlights in her dark hair and tasteful jewelry.
My estimation of Steve Sailor’s cunning goes up another few notches. Veena’s audience is captivated as she walks them through a PowerPoint presentation about the evening’s entertainment. “Who can I count on to pose for pictures with our guests?” she asks, and a dozen hands fly into the air.
Everyone except me seems to think the jamboree is a great idea. At least I have an excellent bagel to console me. I take a bite, and then my traitorous eyes cut over for a glance at Chase.
And, hang on, I catch him glancing back at me. His eyes drop immediately to his own paper plate, which also contains two halves of a sesame bagel. One with strawberry cream cheese and one with…
I look at what remains of my lox half and then squint at his. Yup. They’re the same.
Figures. I used to find it funny when we chose the same things, but now it’s just a sharp reminder of my teenage heartbreak.
And now I’m supposed to skate with him again? Impossible. He must hate this idea, though. I have to know. “Psst.”
Chase glances over at me. What? he mouths.
I beckon.
He sets down his bagel on the counter, wipes his mouth on a napkin, and crosses to my side of the back wall. “Something the matter?” he asks in a low voice.
“You tell me,” I say, setting my food down because I don’t want to get cream cheese on my face in front of Chase. “I need to ask you about Steve Sailor’s obnoxious little idea.”
His jaw hardens. “So what’s your question?”
“Well…” I swallow. “Did you really mean to say yes? Or did we get scammed? I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why you would agree to do a figure skating program in the middle of your season when you have so many more important things to do.”
He rubs his handsome chin. “You can’t, huh?”
I shake my head. “Seems like the last thing you’d want to do. And I can’t believe the organization thinks this is a good idea. What if you got injured?”
He shakes his head. “They told me not to jump. And they don’t understand figure skating, so they think that lowers the risk level to, like, dancing on TikTok.”
“Oh,” I say heavily. “That’s so…”
“Ignorant?” He chuckles harshly. “Well, yeah. But Sailor gave me the speech about hungry children, and I don’t want to let ’em down.
” He crosses his arms, and I notice his muscles flex, even without wanting to.
I had one perfect night in those arms, and you’d think I would have forgotten about it by now.
“He also said it would help your bid to get a full-time job with the Legends.”
I yank my gaze up to his face. “He did? That sounds too good to be true.”
“Maybe.” Chase shrugs. “If you still hate this… what did you call it? Obnoxious little idea? Then you can still back out when Veena calls your name.”
My blood pressure spikes immediately. “In front of this whole room full of people? And Sailor the Manipulator? Is that what you’re hoping I’ll do?”
He gives me a searching look. “That’s not what I said. But you told me you hated this idea. If you’re so reluctant, I’m giving you an out.”
“Are you going to back out?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’m not afraid.”
“Wait,” I hiss. “Did you just call me a chicken?”
His expression flickers with amusement. “Call it whatever you want.”
“Seriously, Chase.” I try to keep my voice down, but our whispered conversation is starting to piss me off. “What game are you playing right now? The only game I’m here for is hockey. But it gets more complicated every minute.”
He’s quiet for a second. “Why is hockey your thing now? Serious question.”
I stare at the floor and keep my voice down. “After I left skating, and I left my husband, I needed a fresh start. I did some technical training, which I really loved, but I don’t want to work in figure skating anymore. So I started working with hockey players one-on-one, and I loved that, too.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “Why didn’t you want to work in figure skating anymore? You could get choreography jobs.”
Great, now he’s going to become my career planner just so he can get rid of me. “If you must know, I got sick of being everyone’s big disappointment.”
His expression turns incredulous. “Didn’t you win a goddamn Olympic medal? Do I have that wrong?”
“You followed my career?”
“Didn’t have to. It’s in all the cutesy news items about the Legends this week.”
“Oh, of course,” I say grumpily. “Sure, I won a medal. In the wrong color. Everyone was expecting me to be a big comeback story for the gold four years later, but then I dropped out at the last minute to have surgery. Water under the bridge. But figure skating is so claustrophobic. I don’t want to work for my mother, and she’d expect me to. ”
“Ah. That I can understand. Not a big fan of Sister Walsh.”
“I bet.”
At the front of the room, Veena has moved on to outlining the show part of the jamboree. She’s taking volunteers for the various on-ice games, and her rapt audience is eagerly raising their hands.
“I realize,” I say quietly, “that I’ve been a huge distraction for you.
And this jamboree is just more of the same.
But I have to see it through. If you get your contract renewal and your sponsors back onboard, maybe I can leave the Legends, your contract, and your pelvis a little better off than when I arrived. ”
He makes a choking sound. And that’s the moment Veena chooses to look back at us and smile. “Now on to our most exciting event—a figure skating number from Zoe and Chase!”
The entire room breaks out into cheers and wolf whistles, and I press my back against the wall as if I could disappear into it.
Veena beams in our direction. “Guys, your performance will be the grand finale of the evening. What music will you be using?”
It’s a fine question, but we haven’t discussed it yet.
I’m preparing to explain that we’ll need some time, but then it occurs to me that I don’t want to be the de facto spokesperson of this little venture.
If I assign myself that role, I’ll have to make all the decisions, all the plans, and I’ll have to hunt Chase down just to schedule each practice.
So I lock my jaw shut. If Chase really wants to do this, he’ll have to step up and own it.
“‘Free Bird’!” yells one of the players into the silence, and there’s a round of laughter.
I look over at Chase only to find that we’re wearing matching defensive poses. “You’re the music guy,” I mutter. “So what’s it going to be?”
“The music hasn’t been decided,” Chase finally says.
Veena purses her lips. “Wow, okay. There isn’t a lot of time to pull this all together. I’ll need to hear from you by Friday. We need to get the rights to the song, whatever it is.”
He gives her a jerky nod.
DeLuca raises his hand. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“Of course,” Veena says brightly.
He turns around in his chair. “Just do the same routine you guys did ten years ago. That’s what everyone will want to see. Plus, isn’t that just easier?”
Chase gives his buddy a surly look. But Veena loves this idea. “Good point,” she agrees. “That’s what I want, too, if I get a vote.”
Sure, Veena. We’ll skate to “Wicked Game,” and I’ll just die slowly of a broken heart. No big deal. “We’ll talk it over,” I say, hoping to move on from this subject.
Alexei raises his hand. “I might need more tickets this year. Can I buy extra?”
“Yeah!” O’Connell chirps. “Both my girlfriend and my sister want to come. Help me keep the peace.”
Veena makes a note on her legal pad. “Okay, sure. But this is a charity gig, so every ticket has to be paid up at full price. Anyone who wants an extra pair of tickets has to email me by Monday.”
Weber raises a hand next. “Is there a costume committee for the figure skating portion of the evening? If so, I’d like to join up.”
The whole roster laughs.
Chase sighs.
“And you’re getting this on video, right?” someone else wants to know. “This’ll never get old.”
“What about special effects?” yells another player.
Veena tackles every question, reassuring the team that there will be video. But, no, they cannot put Chase in a low-cut sequined bodysuit. “Zoe and Chase can handle the costumes themselves.”
“Hear that?” I say under my breath. “I get to choose your costume.”
“Only if I can choose yours,” he fires back.
Touché. I raise my hand. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course!” Veena smiles broadly.
“Hear me out—since the figure skating portion of the program is set for last, and since it’s soooo popular…
” I give Chase a glare. “I think the whole team should take a musical curtain call afterward. Why should Chase and I have all the glory? I’m picturing the players linking up like the Rockettes. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
The room falls absolutely silent, except for Chase’s low chuckle and Weber’s “Oh shit.” I give the rookie a glare that reminds him not to fuck with me.
“I love it,” Veena shrieks. “Excellent impulse, Zoe. Will you need to schedule extra practices for that?”
“Just one,” I say, because I don’t want to make any new enemies.
She claps her hands. “All right, team. Good work today, and thank you for your time. You’ll soon be receiving a slew of email reminders from me about your commitments.
The Legends’ owner is going to be thrilled with the effort you’re making this year.
We’re going to raise a lot of money for those children! ”
We’d better, damn it. Because this is going to be so hard.
The meeting ends, and I head down to the staff lockers to get my skates when a new message pops up on my phone.
Chase: You free at 1p? After practice? We could skate some and discuss the program.
I’m not ready for this.
Zoe: Do you even have figure skates?
Chase: Bess just bought them. She’ll drop them off.
Zoe: I’ll have to see if the rink is available.
Chase: It is. I just checked. And we’re on a road trip after this so it’s now or never.
Now I’m really out of excuses.
Zoe: Okay. See you at 1p.