19. Victoria
VICTORIA
There was excitement in the air, even this early on a Tuesday morning. The tournament was drawing in crowds and viewers based on the report I got last night, and spectators were already up chatting about the women’s second game.
I sipped my coffee, people-watching, while waiting for Cambrie to join me. The limited-edition jerseys were scattered throughout the dining area, and I was proud to note there was a decent mix of the men’s and women’s teams.
My phone vibrated on the counter in front of me, and I tapped the screen to see the new message.
Unknown: If you want breaking news, be at the arena in ten
I stared at the words, trying to understand what they meant, who it was from, and whether I should trust an unknown source. Were they trying to lure me in?
As I was staring, another message popped up.
Bring a camera.
Okay, well, if they were trying to hurt me, they wouldn’t recommend bringing a way to record it.
I glanced around for Cambrie but didn’t see her, so I called, and she answered on the first ring.
“Sorry, I left the batteries on the charger and didn’t realize until I was already in the elevator. I had to go back up, but I’m waiting for it to come back. I’ll be down in just a second.”
“Okay, meet me by the doors,” I explained as I slid out of my chair, trying to remain calm.
“You don’t want breakfast?”
“We can grab something later.” I checked over my shoulder, making sure none of my fellow journalists were around or suspicious of my departure two hours before we were supposed to be at the arena.
“I haven’t had coffee.”
“You can have the rest of mine,” I walked at what I hoped was a normal speed through the lobby. My heart was racing, and I wanted to run.
“What’s going on?”
I heard her voice through the phone, but also echoing toward me. When she saw me, I waved her over, not speaking until we were outside and away from the building.
I handed her my still-full cup and made sure we weren’t being followed.
“I got a text,” I explained as we crossed the street. “It said to be at the arena with a camera if I wanted breaking news. It said I had ten minutes, but that was––” I checked my phone, “six minutes ago.”
“Oh,” she took off at a jog, and I matched her pace. “Why didn’t you say that sooner?”
“Because I didn’t know who might be listening.”
She laughed, taking a careful sip without breaking her stride.
“What? This could be something big.”
The arena was only one block away, but we had two minutes left.
“It’s hockey, not a government secret.”
I ignored her, heading to the unmarked door we used to come and go, grateful it was already unlocked and the security guard recognized us.
“Where to now, Bond?”
I narrowed my eyes at her before checking my phone. No new messages.
“I don’t know.”
“It just said the arena?”
I nodded.
“Well, this hall looks clear. Let’s head toward the rink and work from there.”
That was a decent plan, so we hurried, taking turns, and surprisingly did not bump into anyone else.
I stopped at the boards and looked around. The ice was smooth, but empty.
“Maybe the locker rooms?”
Cambrie was too busy digging in her bag to respond. She pulled out her camera and pointed it up at the rafters. “Nope.”
I turned and looked up. “Oh, no.”
She shushed my laughter, and I had to walk away so I wouldn’t ruin her video. There were dozens, about fifty if my guess was right, uniforms hanging like championship flags.
The men’s East and West uniforms, specifically. Jerseys, shorts, and helmets, floating over us like ghosts.
I was shaking my head when a loud groan came from the other side of the rink.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Taz, the captain of the Stripes, stared up at the scene.
He disappeared before I could speak, heading back down the tunnel.
Cambrie filmed from one end to the other before making her way back to me. “What is this?”
“An epic prank.” I was really blown away. This had to take so much time and coordination with staff willing to help pull this off.
“Is this normal?” She was focused on the screen of her camera. “I thought keep away with Hartman’s skates was bad.”
“This is exceptional work, but there are prank wars that last years, even after players get traded or retired.”
“So a player did this?” She lifted her phone, taking more pictures.
“I can’t prove it, but yes.”
“It looks like all of the men’s uniforms, so was it one of the women?”
“You’d think that,” I stared up. “But I bet it was a guy.”
“Getting both teams?”
I smirked. “Less obvious that way.”
“But they don’t get the credit.”
“Not yet,” I grinned. “I bet there will be many more.”
“Wait,” Cambrie turned to me, “do you think this is the same person that stole the skates?”
“As the welcome sign,” I added, then remembered she wasn’t there for that one. “It was a sign welcoming the East team, but the glitter bomb exploded on the West players.”
“So someone has been pranking the men.”
“Yup.”
“And they told you to come find it first,” she sounded skeptical.
“I guess.”
“Do you think it was the person who did it, or someone who saw?”
Oh, that was a good question. “I don’t know.”
She lifted her chin to see it again. “We need to post this immediately.”
I was already reaching for my phone. I needed Chris to approve it quickly so the social teams could get it up before anyone else broke the story.
He answered on the fifth ring. “Hello, Victoria.”
“Hi, Chris.” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Cambrie and I just walked into an exclusive. A first look.”
“At the baseball game?”
Frustration bubbled inside me. “No, I’m at the hockey tournament?”
“Right, right. So what did you find?”
“There’s been a series of pranks, and we just found the biggest one yet.” I was practically shaking with how excited I was.
“A prank?”
“Yes, I don't know who’s behind it yet, but––”
“No.”
I froze. “What?”
“No, Victoria. We don’t care about pranks or other nonsense. You’re there to cover the hockey games. You just need to get your little interviews.”
“But it’s––”
“We’re a serious source. We don’t report on practical jokes.”
He was completely missing the point. This might not be a part of the official tournament, but it was the spirit of it. The essence of hockey players.
“You have four more due by the end of the day.” He must have looked up what my assignment was while we were talking.
“Right, I’ll get those sent in as soon as––”
“Good.”
He hung up.
I blinked at the screen in slight shock until Cambrie nudged me. “No go?”
I shook my head. “No.”
She huffed. “That’s ridiculous. This is the most exciting thing to happen all week.”
“The games did start––”
“Besides those,” she waved me off as she paced. “This is a thousand times more entertaining than any of our interviews.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear from my creative partner.
“Victoria, we cannot let this go to waste.” She looked around the rink again. “Right now, we’re the only ones who know.”
“Besides, Taz.”
“He didn’t even take a picture. We have a very short window of time before more people show up.” She dropped into a seat. “I need your phone.”
“Why?”
“Just,” she made a grabbing motion, and I handed it over.
“What are you doing?”
“Editing.” She looked between her camera and phone. Silent minutes passed as she worked faster than I’d ever seen before. Finally, she dropped her phone and picked up mine. “Passcode.”
I typed it, and she went back to work.
“You need more followers,” she said as if I had a magic wand to wave and make that happen.
“I have ten thousand,” I defended, “and why are you on my socials?”
She ignored me, tapping away. Finally, she stopped and slowly looked up with a small smirk. “We’ll see how this goes.”
“How what goes?”
“You just posted this to your own accounts.”
“Cambrie,” I started to argue. “I can’t. We’re here as press. Anything we film is property of Sports Now.”
“No, my contract states that they have first right of refusal. They refused, it’s now mine to use how I’d like.”
Well, that was a nice clause.
“So why didn’t you post it to your accounts?”
She gave me a stern look. "Because, my dear friend, I love what I do.”
“You just said we wouldn’t get into trouble.”
“No, I mean I love what I do and don’t want that to change. You don’t love this anymore. Maybe you never have. So, you are going to post the pranks and silly behind-the-scenes stuff Chris doesn’t want. I heard him—he only wants your little interviews.”
“That’s not a job—this tournament is only one week and a half, two weeks tops.”
“One step at a time, Vic.”
I cringed; I hated that nickname. “One video isn’t suddenly going to make me go viral, Cam.”
She narrowed her eyes, and I nearly stuck out my tongue.
“We shall see.” With that, she leaned over, picked up her camera, and went quiet.
I sat down a few seats from her. “What are we doing now?”
“We’re waiting for players to get here so I can film their reactions.”
I didn’t have an alternative plan, and hers sounded just as entertaining as the prank itself, so I sat quietly. Minutes passed, both of us flinching each time a door closed; no one entered the rink for longer than I expected.
Hadn’t Taz warned his teammates?
The women would be here soon to warm up before their game.
Finally, a loud slam reverberated through the empty area. Cambrie jumped to her feet, and I followed her until we spotted a group of guys walking in.
“Stop!” I shouted, and somehow, they listened.
“What?” One called out, and I recognized him. These were West players.
Cambrie caught up to them, and they didn’t even ask what she was doing.
“How are you feeling about your next game?” I asked, as if this were a normal interview.
“Good,” Holden nodded.
“Yeah, we just have to keep up with what we’ve been doing,” Sean agreed.
“Do you think your uniforms will impact your ability to play?”
“What?” Joel asked, and I pointed up.
They burst out laughing, and Cambrie was there, capturing their reaction.
“Who did this?” Holden asked, but I shook my head.
“We have no idea.”
“Well, we have to get them back.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck while staring up at the hanging clothes. “Dang. This was good.”
“Has anyone else seen it yet?” Sean asked.
“Taz did, but he left pretty quickly,” Cambrie explained.
“You guys are the first reactions we got. Mind if we use it?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Joel agreed.
“As long as we can wait in here to see how the rest of the guys take it,” Sean laughed as he climbed the stairs.
“Just don’t give it away,” Cambrie warned with a smile.
“This is too good,” Holden followed Joel to sit in Sean’s row.
Small groups of two and three from both teams trickled in, and we captured the moments of disbelief, annoyance, and good humor.
Finally, I recognized the voices coming and fought to keep the smile off my face as I greeted Erik, Wyatt, and Josh.
“Morning,” I greeted.
Erik eyed me. “You’re being suspicious.”
“I’m not,” I argued, but Wyatt was faster than the others.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he groaned.
Josh looked up and laughed before covering it up with a cough when Wyatt glared at him.
“How?” Erik asked before cocking his head to one side. “Maintenance had to have been involved.” His chin tilted to the other side. “This had to have taken hours.”
“Someone clearly broke curfew,” Taz called before glaring at the rows of players.
“We’ve got to get them down.” Tyson descended the stairs after Erik finally stopped staring up and shaking his head.
“How?” Erik repeated. “We need a lift.”
“Or harnesses to climb around up there,” Levi added.
Tyson narrowed his eyes. “How would you know about that?”
“I’ve seen it done before,” Levi held up his hands in surrender. “When they do stuff in the rafters at our arena, they wear harnesses that clip into things.”
More voices drifted toward us, this time female.
“Oh, no,” Wyatt groaned as the women' s coaches came out of the tunnels across from us.
Cambrie didn’t miss a beat, her camera back out and pointed at them.
“Mind explaining what you’re all doing here?” one of them yelled out.
“Nope,” Erik said, just loud enough for those close to him to hear.
I tried not to giggle, but it slipped out.
One of the women in the back tapped the head coach’s shoulder, then pointed up.
Silence.
We all held our breath as she took it in.
“You have got to be kidding me.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if composing herself, before pointing toward us. “Fix this.”
“We didn’t,” Tyson started, but she cut him off.
“I don’t care, Lane. Just fix it before the fans get here.”
With that, they turned and left, while Tyson spun to face us. “Ideas?”
“Call the facility manager,” Wyatt answered. “We’ll help however we can, but Erik and Levi were right. We can’t get up there on our own.”
While the guys split off, following the directions of their captains, I joined Cambrie on one of the lower rows. She was back to working between her camera and phone before holding out her palm.
I sighed and unlocked my phone before passing it over.
“Are you posting this all now?”
“No, we’re going to space them out. But I’m going to make sure you’re following all the guys first so they can follow you back.”
“I think most of us follow each other already.”
“Good, because when people see that they follow you too, they’ll know your account is the right one to credit.”
“What do you mean?”
“People are going to be sharing and stealing these videos. We need to prove yours is the original.”
“Can’t you watermark the video?”
“Yeah, but no one cares,” she tapped away before handing it back. “They’ll post every thirty minutes automatically.”
Huh. “Cool.”
She grinned. “Now we just have to figure out how to make sure we’re the first on the scene of the next prank.”
I nodded and looked back at my screen. Maybe we could.
Victoria: Who is this?
No reply.
How did you know?
Can you tell me when it will happen again?