Chapter 28 Alex
ALEX
The next morning, I’m knocking on Astrid's door again just after four-thirty a.m.
She opens the door. “Is this going to be a regular thing?”
“Bruce mentioned getting me a key when I was out late at the fire with Josh,” I say. “I’ll remind him of it today.”
She steps back, letting me in, and we head toward the kitchen.
“I guess I don’t mind. It’s nice to have time to talk to you,” she says. Then she yawns. “Though later in the day would be nice.” She starts preparing our cups of tea. “I absolutely love what you’re doing, by the way. Ticket sales keep growing, but that’s not the only reason.”
“Can you be more specific?” I ask with a smile.
“The take Alex to work stuff,” she says. “Brilliant. Your social media hasn’t been this active in months.”
I nod but shift in my chair. My sisters are both incredibly impressive women, and I have always wanted and worked for their approval. “You really like it?”
“Absolutely. Not only is it getting you back in front of your fans, but it’s highlighting what you’re doing here in Louisiana. It’s perfect.”
“It’s really about the other people. And I wonder if it’s a little silly. Most people probably already know what firefighters and landscapers do.”
She turns back to me with a thoughtful look.
“Well, first, I don’t think anyone ever knows completely what someone else does at work.
It’s great to see all the details and behind the scenes.
And even if we do know what they do, it’s fantastic to highlight it, and remind people how important the people around them are and that the jobs they do really matter. ”
Nora said something similar.
“But it’s not just about those people or the jobs they’re doing,” she says.
The kettle whistles, and she pours water into two mugs before bringing them to the table.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s about you.”
I frown. “I’m just a hockey player who is willing to admit that he has been a little selfish and self-absorbed and hasn’t really ever connected with people doing regular jobs.”
She sets her mug down without taking a sip and nods. “Exactly.”
“What?” I’m not following.
“That’s what's so enchanting about it. Here you are, a rich, very successful, and talented professional athlete, and you’re willing to not only admit that you’ve been incredibly privileged and cut off from the real world, but now you’re not just trying to learn new things or highlight these people you’ve met, you’re actually really into it.
” She smiles. “You’re the draw here, Alex.
Your genuine enthusiasm for being on these job sites and talking to these people is what is so charming. ”
“Come on,” I scoff. “Beckett is filling a really important gap in the community. The kitten was cute all on his own. Quinn is a woman not only playing in a male-dominated sport, but also working in a male-dominated field for a female boss. Josh is a fucking hero. Period.”
“Yes, of course, all of that is true. But it’s your platform.
How do you not see this? The people who are following you and following this because of you.
And now you’re using that platform to be vulnerable and funny and self-deprecating.
You’re letting them see what’s happened since you got hurt and had to leave the pros.
But you’re not sitting around wallowing, you’re not talking down about the lesser league, you’re not making fun of small-town Louisiana.
You’re building it all up. You have never talked about your professional-athlete friends and teammates the way you’re talking about these people. ”
I frown. “I didn’t need to talk about them. They have their own following.”
“Right. You’re giving the small-town delivery guy, the landscaper, the teacher, the firefighter, the youth counselor all a spotlight they’d never have otherwise. It’s fantastic.”
I want all this to be true. “It’s not like what you did after your injury. I mean, you became a fucking inspirational speaker. People follow you because you make them feel better about their lives.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You haven’t been reading the comments online, have you?”
“About me? No, not for several hours.”
She grabs her phone. “It’s not exactly the same, but you’re using who you are and your position to talk to people, and to connect them with each other.
” She scrolls for a little bit on her screen, then stops and turns the phone toward me.
“Look at these comments. Yes, they’re impressed by Quinn, Josh, and Beckett.
But look at this one. This guy is thanking you for getting his teenage son to ask him about his job.
This one is saying that you put all the guys on his roofing crew in a better mood on the job today.
This one says his little girl asked if she can go to work with him next week.
” She looks up. “People’s jobs are a huge part of their lives, and you’re making people feel good about their work.
That’s making their lives happier, too. You’re doing that, Alex. ”
“I am?” I read through the comments, and sure enough, there are people thanking me.
“You do a job that is very public and that people get to come and watch. Hell, people pay to come and watch you work. It just feels great to have someone like you turn around and look at them and really see them.”
“Wow, so this could be a good thing,” I say. “I mean, I don’t want to make money off of it or anything, but I do want to learn about how this works—how these towns and communities come together and help each other. As long as I’m doing that, sharing that seems like a good thing, right?”
Astrid grins at me. “It’s a very good thing. And I love seeing you enjoying it too. That’s what really matters. That’s when using your platform means the most. When it’s something you care about.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re doing great. I’m proud of you.”
My chest feels warm. “I appreciate that.”
“And you’ll host Sam at the crawfish boil before the game on Friday, right?”
“Sam?”
“From Sam The Sportsman. He wants to interview you. I told him yes, if he comes to Rebel and hangs out at the crawfish boil and goes to the game.” She grins. “I want to give him the whole experience.”
“You’re accepting interview requests for me?”
“I’m your boss so…yes.” She lifts her cup.
I’ve talked to Sam before. It’s fine. “Okay, I’ll do it. But I’m going to talk about the other players. And I want to pull Beckett or Ingrid in with me. They’re from here. They can talk about the crawfish and tell him all about the swamp werewolves and stuff.”
Astrid frowns and sips, then shakes her head. “I hear you. But I need you to be a hockey player for this. You’re the big name. His listeners want to hear you.”
I sigh. “But I want to do more.”
“Like what exactly?”
“I’m not sure. Something.”
She laughs. “You’ll figure it out. You’re using your platform to make people look at hockey differently, and it’s making you look at it differently. Something will come from that. Something for you and for the fans.”
“Does that matter?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are the queen of making things matter after they change.”
She smiles softly. “Aw. Well, yes. I mean… loving hockey is the foundation, and you’re focusing people on that by focusing on these regular people who are playing and watching hockey here versus the glitz and glamor of the pros. And I think it’s helping you look at hockey differently, too.”
I think she might be right. “Thanks.”
“But you’ll do the thing with Sam? And be the big shot hockey player he wants to interview.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll hang out with Sam.”
“Thank you.”
I pull my phone out, realizing that I haven’t looked at it since I showed up at Nora‘s hours ago. I want to check in on a couple of other platforms, too.
But I frown when I see my screen.
I tap to open my text messages, then look up at my sister. “I have five missed calls and eight texts sitting here from your husband.”
Astrid frowns. She sits forward. “What? What about?”
“Something with the Grays,” I say, skimming the texts. Mostly they just say call me, call me immediately, I need to talk to you, and team emergency.
My stomach is in a knot as I press the voicemail button.
Astrid listens to the first message with me.
Her eyes get wider and wider and my heart sinks further and further.
The ones that follow are simply, “Call me”, “Call me back, goddamit”, “Fucking call me”.
My sister sums it all up perfectly when she finally sits back in her chair and says, “Well… shit.”