Chapter 21
DUSTIN
Over the next few weeks, life went well, and without incident. I was starting to think the whole marriage thing was going to work out exactly as we planned.
But there was always a curveball. Or a curvepuck. Whatever.
“So, Dustin. How’s married life?”
I turned back toward Coach Slanch, who had taken up a seat in one of the two open spots next to me on our plane ride back from the west coast.
I couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at my face. “I can’t complain, Coach. She’s good to me.”
Coach nodded thoughtfully, looking as though he was thinking hard about something.
“In any case, you looked good back on the ice. And no fights for the entire west coast road trip. Well done.”
Coach Slanch was right. We’d just completed our week-and-a-half road trip, playing up and down the west coast, including California, Washington State, and Canada. We had ended the trip in Vancouver and were flying back to Chicago.
He moved in and took the seat right next to me, then looked around to make sure there was no one else close to us on the team charter plane, which there wasn’t. Leaning in, he spoke softly.
“You think we have it this year?”
“Have what?”
“Cup potential.”
I took in a deep breath. “We’re goddamn close. But the Ice are good,” I said, referring to Seattle’s team. “They’ve got depth.”
“Exactly. We’ve got you and Chip out there crushing it, but once our second string goes in—and god help us, our third string—we lose a whole lot of leverage. For that reason, I’m actually glad you got suspended, in a way. The fatigue of the season is starting to show.”
Coach was damn right. A hockey season was a marathon, not a sprint. The exhibition season started in September, and God forbid you made it to the Stanley Cup—you’d be playing in June. That was only three months of recovery, and it took a toll on your body.
“We could use one more flashy player,” I added. “But the trade deadline’s almost here.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling the front office. I’ve told Bells like twenty times we need one more wingman. The office is bipolar or something. It makes no sense. They were threatening to trade you for a while, and then they backed off—for now.”
He stood up for a moment, checking again to make sure no one was within earshot.
“What I’m about to say stays between us.”
“Of course.”
“I think Old Man Bells is getting too old for this job. I think Jackie is the one pulling the strings.”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously?”
“She’s the one who wanted to trade me. Not Jerry.”
“Why does she want to trade you? It still doesn’t make sense to me.”
“I don’t know, man. I don’t know.” I grinned, thinking back to our dinner at the Bells’s mansion. “Good thing my wife is charming.”
“Yeah,” he said, then snorted.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked.
“What was what?”
“That reaction you just made when I referenced my wife.”
“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling with that act.”
“Ex-fucking-cuse me?”
“Look, LeBlanc. I’m not trying to get involved in your personal shit.
But after that dinner—you’re lucky Old Man Bells is as senile as he is.
That kiss-ass ‘I love The Beatles’ routine she tried to pull was thinly veiled lies.
Ten years ago he would have grilled you—and canned you right there.
I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you better be freaking smart. ”
My natural reaction was to get defensive. The truth was, I was starting to fall in like with Cat. Were we a normal married couple? No. But what was normal, anyway?
I reminded myself Coach Slanch was on my side and took a deep breath. “It was obvious, huh? How’d you know?”
“To be honest, I couldn’t tell. But my wife—she’s a huge music fan—asked Cat what she thought of Rubber Soul, and if it was her favorite. Do you know what she said?”
Rubber Soul was the Beatles best album. Well, in the opinion of many people.
“What did she say?”
“Her face got all twisted up and confused, and she looked down at her heels. ‘They’re regular soles,’ she said.”
Shit. This was my fault for pimping Cat into that role. I thought it was funny—and it was, a little. But not enough to risk exposing our situation.
“Damn. Your wife was so quiet, I figured she was just spacing out.”
“You think I married a space cadet? Get with it, LeBlanc. She’s twice as smart as me.”
I laughed, and my mind shot back to my whole big brain tirade in the immigration office.
“Something funny?”
“Look, thanks for bringing this to my attention. We’re good, right? The trade deadline is going to pass.”
“Yeah, we’re good, fingers crossed. Give it another month.
My point is that Jackie is pulling the strings up in the office.
So just stay under the radar, at least until then, for goodness sakes.
Hey, maybe even kiss a little ass. Do more of that charity stuff.
And in Chicago this time. No more Vegas. ”
“Hey, it’s not like I can get shotgun married in Vegas again,” I said.
Coach Slanch put his hand on my shoulder. “If anyone could pull it off, it’d be you.”
“I choose to take that as a compliment.”
He exhaled loudly. “So, are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you two? Or am I better off not knowing?”
I let my gaze drift outside the plane. The truth was, I was thoroughly enjoying my adventure with Cat, whatever name it had. Mutual benefits. Friends with benefits. Marriage.
It was all the same now.
Usually, the only part of my week I truly reveled in were the games. Now, I found myself excited to head back to Chicago, since she was going to be staying with me for a few days this weekend.
It had been ten days since we’d seen each other—the most time we had gone without seeing each other since we got married.
I felt my dick twitch just thinking about what was going to happen when we touched down in Chicago. She said she had a surprise for me.
Would she be waiting for me in a trench coat?
Maybe cook up one of those raw fish meals she was into—sushi or whatever.
“LeBlanc? You gonna answer?”
“My bad, Coach. Look, you don’t have to know everything. We’re happy. That’s what counts.”
He blew out an audible, frustrated breath. “I hope you know what you’re doing. Now I’ll leave you so I can get some shut eye.”
He headed to the back of the plane and I took out my phone, fiddling with the wifi. We were a couple hours from landing, and a little sexting would be a good way to get us both warmed up for the landing.
When I finally connected my phone to the plane wifi though, I felt my heart drop into my stomach.
Kit Cat: Why the fuck is there a naked woman in your apartment???
I swallowed, and a pit formed in my stomach. Well this was not good.