Chapter 6 Kennedy
kennedy
“Icannot believe I let you talk me into this,” I sigh, sitting next to my friend Maggie James, waiting for the game to start.
“Kenni, it’s the Riders! How can you not want to be here?
Besides, it’s Bougie Bobblehead night! Look at this cute little guy,” she gushes, tapping the top of the figurine to make it wobble.
“Vladi has one of himself at home, but of course, it’s his typical grumpy expression chiseled on a mini statue.
I swear that man knows how to be happy, not that anyone ever knows.
At least Bougie is smiling!” The head rattles as she shakes the trinket.
“I’ve never met anyone with a more positive outlook on life than him. ”
I roll my eyes as I pick up my box from under my seat, examining it to see if there’s some magical feature I’m unaware of because I’m still not sure what the hype is.
“If I had everything in life handed to me on a silver platter I’d be chipper as a squirrel running loose in a nut factory too. Here,” —I hand her the box— “you want mine?”
“Kennedy Judith Kramer! Don’t you dare criticize my sweet, little Bougie.
I know you’re not his biggest fan, but he helped me get to where I am with my business.
He gave me a chance when I wasn’t sure I could do it on my own.
” My lips thin, the box dropping in my hand.
“You should come hang out with us sometime. He loves all our Millennial pop culture references and, over time, he kinda grows on ya.”
I shake my head, my nose curling. “So does a fungus.”
She snaps her head toward me, a stern look on her face.
“I swear, some days you and Vladi must’ve been separated at birth with your damn stubbornness.
” She pushes the box back into my lap. “Keep it. If nothing else, you can sell it and get some extra cash. The game was sold out, so who the fuck knows how much these things will be selling for.”
I shrug, tossing it down beneath me. “Fine. At least I can make some money off his cocky ass.”
“Great attitude, Kenni,” she snarks, giving me a good side-eye. “Cheer up. At least you get to see our dear friend Olivia sing the national anthem, hopefully see some good fights, and we’re in the seats with free booze!” Maggie shrieks as she cheers her drink with mine.
“In case you’ve forgotten…again…I’m not allowed to drink twelve hours before a flight. And since I have to transport the team, including your fiancé, directly after the game, I’ll stick with my Diet Coke.”
“Dammit! I always forget you’re a pilot.
Why don’t you just come work for me? I’ll find something cool for you to do at Little Fox Branding.
Oh my God, you could model for my campaigns!
We could do a whole shoot on female pilots using the new skincare line for Luca Bellezza!
Holy shit, why did I not think of this before?
!” She whips out her phone and starts furiously typing in her notes app.
“This could be amazing. Think you can get all your friends on board with this?” Her entire body freezes.
“Oh damn…‘on board’? I just made an airline pun! Holy tits, this could go viral.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “I’m not sure I’m model material, Maggie.”
“Kenni,” she waves her hand at me. “You don’t even know your own hotness. That means you are for sure model material. You are gorgeous. I would kill to have your skin, your hair, your profession…”
“Well, this just took a weird stalker turn.”
She laughs, her head falling back. “True. Too bad I simply don’t have the time to stalk you. But seriously, I’d love to use you on the campaign, and you know Shelly would be all about it too.”
Our friend Shelly owns Luca Bellezza Cosmetics, and Maggie’s branding firm does all her advertising.
They are the ultimate girl bosses. And Maggie’s best friend, Olivia, still works for her.
She certainly doesn’t need the money being married to one of the Riders’ star players, but Maggie makes the job fun and treats all her employees with respect.
Something I wish flying would involve. I stifle a groan.
Why did fucking NASA need to steal Benny away?
Maggie and Shelly don’t put up with any of the patronizing ‘old boys club’ bullshit.
My teeth grind on their own, wishing that wasn’t still a thing with a lot of the older male pilot population.
Don’t get me wrong, some of the male pilots are amazing, truly great to work with, and have respect for me and all the other females in our profession. When I see I’m on a flight with them, I rejoice. Sadly, there are still a lot that aren’t.
I’ve worked my way up through the ranks in both the Guard and the airline, but still have to deal with this shit. I stare at the half-eaten pretzel in my lap, my appetite gone with the looming uncertainty of who my new co-worker will be tonight.
“Oh, pre-game’s about to start! I see Olivia down there,” Maggie says, tapping my leg.
The usual hype video plays on the Jumbotron as the refs and opposing team skate out onto the ice, and the coaches head to the bench.
My heart is pounding, the bass from the music beating against my chest. The energy in this arena is electric, sparks igniting the fans as a motorcycle revs through the speakers.
Maybe watching these grown men fight one another with blades on their feet will get me out of my funk?
“Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, in honor of Bougie Bobblehead night, we have a special performance for you prior to the starting lineups from our very own bobblehead honoree,” the announcer’s voice booms through the speakers and the crowd starts to cheer, “please welcome to the ice, nummmbeerrr sixty-eight, defenseman, Jordan Boooouuu-cher!”
Nope. Not getting me out of my funk. Funk is now at one hundred percent as strobe lights flitter across the ice and a familiar song kicks in. Don’t tell me he’s skating out to—
“Oh my God!” Maggie cheers next to me. “It’s Ice Ice Baby.”
The muscles in my jaw clench. Please God, no. Just…no. Let this not be happening.
But it is. It’s happening.
The entire arena erupts as the spotlight finds him skating around like he’s doing a goddamn figure skating routine all while holding a miniature version of himself like it’s the fucking Stanley Cup.
Did he just do a sit spin? Holy hell on toast. I shift in my seat and shake my head as the crowd conveniently changes the words to replace baby with Bougie every time the chorus hits.
My eyes narrow as my stomach twists. He is ridiculous. He is juvenile. He is…godammit he is fucking good and that sit spin could rival Michelle Kwan’s.
Stupid fucking athletes and their stupid fucking talents.
“This is incredible! He’s doing ice dancing moves in hockey skates!” Maggie shouts. I look over at Coach Calhoun, his arms tightly crossed as if he’s about to murder his own defenseman. I laugh louder than I should. Guessing Richy Rich didn’t get pre-approval for this.
I nudge Maggie, jutting my chin toward the bench. “I don’t think the coaching staff is very happy.”
She stops clapping along momentarily to elbow me. “They’ll get over it.”
“I’m not sure I will.”
“Lighten up, Kenni, or I’m going to send you and Vladi to Grump Camp this summer!”
Sinking into my seat, I suck my teeth. “I am not a grump!”
“Says the blonde who’s had a permanent scowl on her face the entire pre-game!”
I force myself to relax. Almost. Maybe she has a point. Maybe I should chill. I know he’s a professional athlete, and I’m sure he works hard, and all that, but something just burns me that he gets to literally skate around like an idiot and make millions of dollars without really trying.
Especially since he doesn’t even need the money.
The crowd erupts again as he ends his short program with his hands over his head while a burst of flames shoots out from his fingers.
I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. I suppose he did put in a lot of effort here.
I will never admit this out loud, but between this and the bar dancing the other night, he is one hell of a showman.
“That was amazing!” Maggie shouts, “But now I feel bad for Liv having to go after Bougie on Ice.”
“Yeah…I don’t know how the hell she’s going to follow that.”
I head out after the second period to change into my uniform and get to the airport before the team arrives.
A long sigh escapes as I drive away from the twenty thousand people fawning over a damn bobblehead.
I will never admit this to Maggie, but the game and the antics leading up to it were a welcome distraction from the knot in my stomach about who my new co-worker will be.
I inhale, then slowly exhale. I’m sure it will be fine. Maybe it’ll be Benny 2.0?
I reviewed my flight plans earlier today, but after arriving at the FBO where the private flights takeoff, I focus my energy on peeking through them again.
“Hey, Kennedy,” Theresa’s voice echoes through the crew lounge. “Heard you actually went to the game tonight. You get a bobblehead?”
I roll my eyes. Am I the only one in this town that doesn’t give a shit about this little statue?
“Yeah, Maggie dragged me with her,” I say, reaching down into my bag and pulling out the giveaway. “You want this?”
She laughs. “Nah, I already have one coming. Funny enough, I spent all day today chasing my grandson around the indoor play café, and all he could talk about was wanting a Bougie Bobblehead. He has no idea we’re taking him to the game in a few weeks with all his friends, and Mr. Boucher offered to bring signed ones for them all. You keep that one.”
I scoff and shake my head at the thought of the publicity he’s probably getting for making a cameo at a kid’s birthday party as I shove the box back in my bag.
Why will no one take this damn thing from me?
“Look at this.” She holds her phone out to me, a photo of her and her grandson on display, both of them wearing Riders jerseys with #68 on them. “Isn’t he the cutest?”