Chapter 7 #2
Beckett nods, and he actually seems enthusiastic about it. “Yeah. It’s hockey. I swear. There’s just a little more to it. More fun to it.”
“Oh yeah, you’re gonna love it,” Lawson says, sarcasm dripping. “A professional hockey player who’s given his life to the game and made it his career is totally going to think doing skits and playing with fan-voted rules is a great idea.”
Skits? Fan-voted rules?
What the fuck…
“You’ve got the worst attitude,” Beckett says, turning back to Lawson. “What’s wrong with having a good time? Making it more fan-friendly? Wanting people to be involved?”
“We’re not all working on ‘branding ourselves’,” Lawson says, making air quotes with his fingers. “As the feel-good, good-time hockey goofball, so that some team will pick us up because our social media following is huge. Some of us actually want to play serious hockey.”
“I take having fun and interacting with the fans seriously,” Beckett says, moving closer to Lawson.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Marketing and PR are a part of professional sports, and social media is a serious part of professional sports.
Everyone knows that. If I can put butts in the seats, that will matter. ”
“Uh huh. Well, some people make it based on skill and talent.” Lawson glides closer to Beckett. Everyone else parts to let the men face off.
But I note that Zeke and a couple of other guys stay close. Within arm’s length at least. Which makes me wonder how often these two have gotten into it.
That doesn’t bode well for the team.
Astrid and Nora didn’t mention dancing and skits, and they didn’t tell me that I’ve got two teammates who clearly are polar opposites—the dark cloud and the sunshine—who let their differences spill onto the ice.
“And some people make a name because they’ve got a huge fucking chip on their shoulders and can’t control their temper and end up in the headlines when they get cut, rather than because of anything positive,” Beckett says, nearly on top of Lawson now.
He’s got the other man by a couple of inches, but Lawson is wider and more muscular and was one of the toughest defenders in the league when he played.
I move in. “Okay, guys.”
They don’t care about me—or anyone else—right now, though.
“You don’t know anything about me getting cut, Moore,” Lawson says through clenched teeth. “Back off.”
“No one’s making you stay here. You could leave if you hate it so much,” Beckett tells him.
“Guys—” I start again, moving in so I can step between them if anyone lunges.
But just then a shrill whistle splits the air.
“Okay! Let’s go!”
I turn to find a gorgeous, petite brunette skating toward us.
She’s in leggings, a cropped sweatshirt that falls off one shoulder, and she’s got a whistle around her neck.
I glance back to find Beckett and Lawson with several feet between them, both looking at the woman, and stoically not at one another.
She comes to a stop in front of me. She has to tip her head back to look up at me. She can’t be more than five-five.
“Hi! You must be Alex!”
“Yeah, hi.”
“I’m Sutton. I’m the choreographer.”
I look back at the team. If this is a hazing prank, they’re really going all in.
But my gut is telling me that’s not what this is.
Dammit.
“Nice to meet you. I should warn you, not only can I not dance, I had no idea there would be choreography involved with…this.”
She casts a glance at the group behind me. “I’ve heard all of that before,” she assures me. “It will be okay. When you can’t dance or lip sync very well, it actually makes it even better. Provided you can laugh at yourself.”
My brows arch. “Lip sync?”
“Yeah, it’s too hard to get mic-ed up and some people…” She glances behind me again with an exasperated look. “Seem to think they’re not good singers and don’t believe me that people would like that even more.”
My sister has some explaining to do.
“Can I ask why we’re doing choreography and lip syncing?” I ask. “I know I’m late to get here and should maybe know all of this, but someone needs to catch me up.”
“Nora didn’t tell you?” Sutton asks.
Nora. Just hearing her name makes my pulse beat harder. Damn.
“Nora should have told me? Not Astrid?”
Sutton laughs. “Well, Nora sold Astrid on it, so she’d be the best one.”
Interesting. “Neither of them told me anything.” Nora was a little busy dodging kidnappers. And telling me about Rougarou. And completely enchanting me.
But seems there were a few additional details I could have used…
“Can you give me the short version, and I’ll ask Nora about it later?”
I will definitely be asking Nora about this later.
“Well, there’s this baseball team in Georgia that does something like this with baseball. They play the game, but it’s mixed with choreography, different rules, fan involvement, and just fun.”
I frown. “The ones that dress in all yellow? They’re a minor league team or something, right?”
“Yes, the yellow ones. They’re not even minor league. They’re in their own league.”
Oh…no…
That team is wildly popular and all over social media, that’s true. But it’s definitely not straightforward, “real” baseball. It’s over the top and chaotic.
Does it look like fun? Sure. I guess. If you’re into rambunctious shows that look a little like sporting events.
“Can you…” I clear my throat and glance over my shoulder. “Fill me in on these new rules and things?”
Sutton smiles. “Oh, you’ll have a binder. Nora will get that to you.”
The binder.
I sigh. I clearly should have looked through it more thoroughly.
“Yeah, bring it to the Rec,” Beckett says, clapping me on the shoulder. “We’ll go over it with you.”
“Bring my binder to the Rec?” I repeat. Do I need to go buy highlighters at the bookstore too? “Where’s the Rec?”
“Below your new apartment.” Beckett grins. “It’s the bar half of Perks and Rec.”
Right.
I blow out a breath. “Great.” The bar where they vote that they hate me more than the most disgusting vegetable on the planet.
“But for now,” Sutton says, addressing the group. “You all need to line up. We are getting this choreography right today and yes, we are keeping the song from Princess and the Frog. It’s not up for debate.”
Beckett elbows me as Sutton skates to the center of the ice, and everyone starts moving into position. “That’s a movie set in New Orleans and on the bayou.”
“I’ve heard of it.” Though I’m not sure how I’ve heard of it.
“I’ve got a solo.” He grins.
Of course he does.
I nod. “It’s a cartoon, right? Frogs and a big alligator?”
“Yep.” He chuckles. “Just let Sutton know if you want a solo, too. She’s had to bribe and threaten everyone except me, Zeke, and Josh.”
“I’m good.”
He laughs and skates off to get into position at the front of the group.
I hang back and wait for instructions on where to go.
But I have a bad feeling that I might end up at the front eventually. Because that’s where the star, the leader, the big name should be, right? Even on a dancing, lip-syncing hockey team.
I groan internally.
Astrid owes me an explanation and a fucking raise.
I don’t even know what she’s paying me.
“You can just hang out and watch for a little bit,” Sutton calls to me. “I’ll work you in, for sure, but let’s give you an idea about what we’re doing. Then we’ll probably need a couple of one-on-one sessions to get you caught up.”
I give her a thumbs up.
The music starts, and everyone starts moving.
And Jesus Christ.
Beckett’s actually pretty good. He’s hamming it up anyway.
Josh isn’t bad. Zeke’s into it. Ingrid is actually quite good.
Everyone else… well, half of them look like hockey players who are trying to dance on ice.
Meaning, they look ridiculous, but at least they’re upright and they’re moving in unison.
The other half look like people who can probably skate forward and can maybe change direction without falling, but I’m not sure they can skate and hit a puck at the same time because they sure as hell can’t skate, turn, and move their arms at the same time.
Wow. This is so bad it’s…yeah, it’s entertaining.
I catch myself grinning.
But Nora owes me, too. She should have told me about this. She knows who I am, where I’m coming from. She should have warned me. She should have known this is a huge departure from what I do on the ice.
As Zeke turns the wrong way and bumps into Lawson, sending the other man onto his ass, cursing loudly, and knocking over another man, who knocks over another man like burly dominos, I’m torn between laughing and heading straight back to the airport for the first flight back to Portland.
I don’t need hockey. I could be a…
Nothing comes to mind. I have no other skills. I’m stuck here.
Nora’s definitely in trouble for keeping this from me.
How should I make her make it up to me?
I feel a little kick in my chest.
Hmmm… that could be fun.
And it’s not lost on me that every time my thoughts start to get anything less than happy and optimistic, the thought of Nora picks me right back up.