Chapter 14
Beck
Portland Herald: The Kendrick Brothers are on the Verge of Making History
USA Today: Against the Odds, the Portland Hellions Have Made the NHL Playoffs
Seattle Sentinel: The Devil Certainly Came Down to Georgia with a Win for the Portland Hellions Against the Atlanta Panthers, Clinching a Position in the NHL Playoffs
The Chicago Sun, Sloane Winters: A Peek Inside the Life of a Star Shifter Hockey Player
Sloane: “They call you the Devil on the ice. Is that because of your power in deflection?”
Beck: “If by power you mean strength, well, certainly muscular strength is needed, but by far, the reason I was given the nickname was because players on opposing teams never knew what to expect. That’s based on training, skill, and observations done on a continual basis of key players.”
Sloane: “There are some both in and outside the field of hockey as well as other sports who believe shifters have an unfair advantage in their respective fields. How would you respond to that?”
Beck: “If by unfair advantage you mean utilizing our supposed extraordinary attributes, then I’d say every hockey player just like every football or basketball player utilizes their special skills.
Some can run faster or can throw a fastball while others can’t.
If you pay attention to any hockey game, you’ll notice precise movements amongst players.
That’s because we are required to work as a team.
There is no way for a single player, no matter how insanely talented or how beefed up his muscles, to carry a game by himself.
Anyone who thinks otherwise should try playing a friendly game.
Besides, other very human players have skills others don’t or advantages that rank far above others. ”
Sloane: “Such as?”
Beck: “Upbringing for one. Not every child eager to play hockey professionally has the backing of their parents to help them succeed. Sure, in certain cities there are hockey rinks within thirty miles of where they live, but for others, extensive traveling is necessary, which usually means additional expenses from hotel rooms to food. Often, they have no way of attending college in a location that offers a hockey program. The same could be said for football, basketball, or soccer.”
Sloane: “You’re suggesting wealthy families have a significant advantage.”
Beck: “To a point, absolutely. My parents didn’t have a lot of money, but we were lucky in that we lived in an area where hockey was revered. Not all children have that.”
Sloane: “Are there any disadvantages with being a shifter while playing sports?”
Beck: “A lot of them. Including being required to prove yourself on a regular basis. It doesn’t matter how many games you helped win or championships you have under your belt, there will always be those who require perfection. That’s a very tall order to live with on a daily basis.”
Good Morning Seattle, Garrison Wheeler: “Beck, I can’t tell you how excited all of Seattle is that both you and your brother are in the NHL playoffs. You have millions of fans out there. Just take a look at what you faced when stepping off the airplane very early this morning.”
Beck, his dimple showing as he stared directly into the camera: “I can’t lie, Garrison. I am loving life right about now.”
Garrison, chuckling as he stared at the montage of photographs of several hundred people holding colorful signs: “Well deserved. What can we expect to see in the playoffs?”
Beck: “You can expect to see more of the Devil himself. There will be no compromises, no errors. Watch out, the Hellions are coming.”
“To the Hellions!”
The cheering and applause were deafening, especially inside the small bar that was filled with sports enthusiasts. While typical, the Wild Rapids Tavern was buzzing since two homegrown boys were about to make history.
I elbowed Ford as we walked in, my brother immediately taking a bow while I did a little spin on my heels. Whistles and catcalls ensued as we walked through the crowd of well-wishers, receiving claps on the back and jabs insisting we bring home a Stanley Cup.
This was a North Bend bar and restaurant we’d been coming to for years.
“Thank you all. We’re currently taking donations for our diamond-encrusted crowns.” Ford knew how to egg them on, enjoying the hell out of his celebrity status.
Not that I wasn’t, although I’d learned over the course of the season not to believe everything you read or the hype driven into every player. We were only as good as the next win.
“Ah, go to hell,” one of the locals groused in jest.
“How heavy is thy crown, sire?” another said.
“Pittance for the paupers.”
I threw a look at an old buddy of mine, a guy I’d gone to high school with. His grin was similar to everyone else’s in town. We were back in North Bend for a few days, the playoffs set to begin with the first game in Portland.
We’d worked our butts off to get where we were and I’d never been prouder of anything in my life.
“Very funny. Now, heel or face the sword,” I threw back only to have half the guys grunt and wave us off.
We were nothing special after all, although I was grateful when two guys vacated perches at the bar.
I nodded in recognition and eased onto a stool, immediately pulling out my phone.
“You guys were fucking fantastic in Georgia. Holy shit.” Jake owned the place, his family from North Bend, one of the original shifter families in the area.
This was where everyone came to celebrate the wins in life.
As usual, he had a grin on his face, but even more so since acknowledging his mate, a sweet human named Roxanne.
“We did okay, eh, brother?” Ford asked as he sat down, grinning as he glanced in my direction.
“Not too shabby. On that note, I’d love a Guinness with a side of Sambuca.”
“What the fuck is that shit?” Ford was rightfully shocked. “I’ll take a Budweiser with a bourbon chaser, Jake. A real guy’s drinks.”
Jake laughed. “Comin’ right up, boys.”
“Seriously. Since when did you start drinking cinnamon shit?”
With my eyebrows furrowed, I chuckled while pulling a bowl of peanuts closer. “You mean licorice?” I cracked a couple of peanuts from their shells, popping them into my mouth before grabbing my phone. Using my thumb, I navigated to my texts just in case.
“Whatever.”
He didn’t say anything else for a full thirty seconds, but I felt his face crowding my space. “What?”
“Weird drinks and you always have your phone with you.”
“It is a digital age, brother, and you check your voicemails hourly to see if Georgia called. Don’t try and tell me otherwise.”
He grinned and pulled back just as our bottles of beer were placed in front of us. He immediately grabbed the cold brew. I was still scrolling. “She really did a number on you. Huh?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Right. That reporter chick who you seem to think walks on water or maybe you’re just inclined to walk across hot coals for her.”
Since I’d made the mistake of taking a gulp of my beer, I immediately choked, trying to keep from spitting on him.
His laugh was way too boisterous. “I know I’m right. You left the game with her the other night, for fuck’s sake.”
“Which city?” I couldn’t help but push his buttons as he’d done with me over the years. Yes, Sloane and I had tried to be very nonchalant about what we’d been sharing, but with the fans becoming ravenous, at the last game she’d attended it had been maddening trying to get away without being seen.
“Well, I know she wasn’t there last night.”
“No,” I said, sighing just as Jake slid the glasses across the bar for us to catch, saluting when we both did. “She had a preplanned event she couldn’t get out of.”
At least that’s what she’d told me. Since I hadn’t heard from her since then, I was beginning to wonder if something had happened.
Although my gut told me I’d instinctively know.
“Ah, a lover’s quarrel.”
“Fuck off,” I teased.
Ford narrowed his eyes, still laughing. “Did you notice on social media there was some crazy rumor a couple weeks ago you’d gotten married?”
We’d addressed that in the article as well as our father’s condition. Just to try to shut down the bullshit floating around.
I rolled my eyes while grabbing the Sambuca. The combination was something my reporter friend had forced me to try. Maybe I wanted to feel her around me if only with drinks. Well, hell. Was I getting to be sappy? When I laughed, he ribbed me with his elbow again.
“Why do I feel as if there’s some story there?”
“Let’s just say I had to deal with a drunken jerk coming onto her. Seemed like a fine idea at the time.”
“Yeah, well, don’t forget there are eyes and ears everywhere.” I sensed he was teasing me as that was something we’d both dealt with. Since the winning streak the naysayers had been dropping like flies, rabid fans taking their place.
Complete with marriage offers.
I glanced at the television overhead, snorting as I did. Another replay.
“That recent article she wrote was pretty fucking amazing,” Ford said.
“Oh?”
His snort was one I’d heard since I was a child. “She did a good job. I take it she quoted you and didn’t leave anything out.”
I leaned in, grinning like a kid as I did. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. We wrote the article together.”
“Really? And you were trying to tell me the two of you weren’t that close?”
As I swirled the bottle of beer, I shrugged. “Okay, so we’re close.”
“Did she get this great interview on film? I’d love to see it.”
“Ha. Not a chance.”
“And why is that?”
My brother knew when I was hiding something, playfully punching me. “Ouch. Let’s just say she was sitting in my lap during the exchange.”
He was about to spit out his drink, cupping his mouth just before he did. “Okay. That is… something. At least she had your full attention.”
“I’ll say. She was wearing little else than a tee shirt. It was hard to concentrate.”
We both laughed and it felt good to be able to share something so intimate. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if anyone else knew how close I’d gotten with Sloane.
“She coming to the playoffs?”