27. John
Despite all the rushing around prior to the trade being finalized, there didn”t seem to be a whole lot of urgency around the actual signing of the new contract or announcing things publicly.
”They”re gonna wait until after this parade, I”m sure,” my agent told me.
”I”m not even sure I should participate,” I said, doing my best to keep up my positivity but failing, as had been the norm for the past week. I felt bad for Joey, who had been like a bluebird trying to keep flying cheerfully along despite a tornado whirling around her. ”I”m not going to be part of the team much longer.”
”You”re on the team until you”re officially not on the team,” Shotz said. He wasn”t exactly Shakespeare, but he was a good agent. ”And leaving the team is going to double your take home in this particular situation. Don”t forget that.”
”I”d give it up to stay.”
”I know. But you”ll see in time—this is a great deal.”
”Right.” It was. And a year ago I might have been thrilled with it. But I suspected that even without Joey”s reappearance in my life and Mizzoni”s sudden departure, I”d be less than eager to start again somewhere new. I was happy here. I”d felt at home here. I”d actually believed this was a home for me—between the Foundation and Joey... well, there was no point dwelling on it now.
”Come on, you”re going to be late,” Joey said, appearing from the bedroom. She wore slim jeans and a tank top that showed off her fit shoulders, and I was tempted to push her right back into the bedroom. We”d spent a lot of time in there this week. It was the only thing that distracted me from my reality.
”I don”t think it would matter a whole lot if I was late,” I told her.
”It would. Trust me.” Joey flashed a smile that would have had me suspicious if I wasn”t in the process of snagging her hand and pulling her into my chest. ”John,” she growled, but her resistance turned into a laugh and then she tilted her chin up and I dropped my mouth to hers.
Sunshine and laughter filled me when we kissed, all the promise of a future we might still share. I was doing my best to believe we could really have it all, but even when Joey was in my arms it still felt like she was slipping from my grasp.
”Let”s go,” she said, breaking away and pulling on my hand. I was wearing a jersey, as directed, and it was heavy on my shoulders. Like a mantle I no longer deserved. The glow and promise of the woman I loved faded, the farther she moved away from me. What would life be like in Seattle?
Lonely.
Dark.
Full of cloudy skies and rain showers.
”Yep. Let”s get this over with,” I agreed, trying to make my tone upbeat even if my words were anything but.
As we headed to the arena, I watched my town go by through the windshield. Every little thing in Wilcox had taken on a nostalgic tint, as if I was seeing the whole world through a sepia filter. The back streets of my green little neighborhood, the way the rink pushed up against the bright blue sky like a fortress. I would miss it. All of it.
”There you are,” Sly boomed as Joey and I stepped down from the truck.
I checked my watch. ”Dude, we”re not late.”
”Didn”t say you were,” Sly told me with a grin, and then he gave a nod over my shoulder to Solamentes and Simpson, who headed inside the rink.
A huge flatbed with rails was hitched to the team truck, and Julius Ramon waved from behind the wheel. There were at least ten other cars lined up behind the truck, all decorated with Wombat colors and some sporting our stuffed mascot tied to their antennas, it”s blue jersey and tiny pink helmet vibrant in the sun.
”We”re riding up here,” Simpson told me, pointing up to the platform. ”So we can wave at our admirers and whatnot.”
”Whatnot,” I agreed.
The trailer seemed like a fundamentally bad idea, unless the hope was to kill us all in one fell swoop if something were to happen. But the other guys were all leaping up and leaning down to give a hand to the rest of us, so I just followed suit.
”I can see the headline now. Pro Hockey Team Dies in Parade,” I muttered.
”Dude, this thing is gonna be going like ten miles an hour, tops.” Corny chucked me on the shoulder. ”I”m getting tired of this whole Eeyore thing you”ve got going on, Samuels.”
”Yeah? You”re tired of it?” I asked him. ”How do you think I feel?” I sounded like a whiny little girl. No, strike that, even Clara”s kid Katie was more put together and mature than I sounded at that moment. But I didn”t care. My defenses were crumbling. This stupid, ridiculous parade was going to be the very last time I”d be a Wombat in public, and if I didn”t keep myself surly and mad, I”d break down in tears.
”Get a grip,” Sly said, climbing up beside me.
”I”m trying,” I told him. He dropped a reassuring hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
”It”ll all work out,” he said.
”One way or another,” I muttered.
The team loaded up, each of us leaning over the rickety sidewalls of the flatbed as the truck began to move smoothly forward. Julius Ramon was proving that his driving skills extended beyond ice cleaning machines, and I settled a bit.
The parking lot, which had been filled with wives, girlfriends, and a few fans, emptied out as everyone climbed into Wombat-themed vehicles to follow the parade route. I did a double take as I thought I spotted Mizzoni and his fiancée Hillary climbing into my truck with Joey. But that didn”t make sense. He wouldn”t come back for a measly local parade.
”Hey,” I asked Sly. ”Is Mizzoni in town?”
Sly looked my way to answer, but the motion of the truck distracted him.
We pulled out of the rink parking lot and cruised slowly a block or two before turning onto Main Street, and when the truck straightened out, moving along the wide-open thoroughfare, I had to blink hard to be sure I wasn”t hallucinating.
The sidewalks were packed with people, and lights had been strung from one side of the street to the other. Wombats signs hung from buildings, sporting slogans like, ”Wombat Dominance!” and ”The Furriest Force on Ice! Go Wombats!”
The general support that had turned out for an informal parade celebrating nothing was shocking, but the real surprise were the other signs I spotted—the ones held up like picket signs in a protest.
Samuels Stays!
Keep Our Goalie at Home!
John Samuels is Our Man!
No Trade!
If He Goes, We Don”t Come!
”What the fuck?” I asked the truck at large.
Sly and Simpson hooted at my side and Solamentes slid over to slap my back. ”Town doesn”t want you to go, man.”
The noise from the crowd was unbelievable, but not as hard to accept as the fact that every single sign I spotted had my name on it.
”What is this?” I asked the chaos around me.
”It”s a protest,” Rock Stevens said.
”For me?”
”Yeah, for you. We”re not letting you be traded without weighing in on the matter, and we thought the fans might have a few thoughts.”
I stared out over the crowd unable to process what I was seeing. The people were stacked four and five deep on the sidewalk, screaming my name and calling out their support.
When the flatbed came to a stop at the end of the main drag, I expected that we”d turn and head back to the arena, but Ramon pulled us up sideways instead, next to a makeshift stage.
There were chairs and a podium, and as the engine shut off and the crowd began to quiet, the mayor stepped up to the microphone.
”Welcome Wilcox!” he called out, causing the crowd to erupt in screams once again. When they quieted down, he went on. ”Thanks for coming out today to show your love and support for our professional hockey team.” He grinned at us.
”You know, a town of this size generally doesn”t rate a pro sports team, but Wilcox is special, and so are the Wombats.”
He paused while the crowd exploded again.
”And today, we”re here specifically to press the case for one of our own. As you may know, the team is considering a trade. Our brand new starting goalie, youngest in the league, is being sent off to play for another team. What do you think about that?”
The crowd erupted in jeers and boos, and a little glimmer of happiness lit inside me. At least they”d miss me, I guessed. Punches and slaps came from my teammates, and a warm blush climbed my cheeks.
”The thing is,” the mayor went on. ”No one asked us, did they?”
”No!” The crowd called back.
”And I, for one, am not ready to let John Samuels go without an argument.”
”Woot!” Sly called out.
”So today, we”re here to make a case in hopes that the team”s management might take notice. We”d like to keep our rookie right where he is. Here are a few reasons why.”
As the mayor stepped back, a line of kids filed onto the stage one by one, and I recognized them from camp. Each little face turned my way, and a few hands raised. I waved back, emotion swelling inside me as James, one of the dads I met last week, took the microphone from the mayor.
”I have something to say,” James said, looking uncertainly out at the crowd. He caught my eye, and a smile lit his face as he turned back to the gathered masses. ”I don”t know John Samuels personally. I met him last week for the first time, but I knew him as a member of this team and respected his talent. Especially the way he stepped up when Mizzoni got injured.”
There were scattered cheers from the crowd.
”And I know the trade is about him as a player, about his talent. But I also know that we need good men like Samuels here in Wilcox. My son attended Futures on Ice last week. And I am not exaggerating when I tell you that it changed his life.” James looked around as if expecting to be interrupted, but then continued, dropping one hand to the shoulder of his son, who I remembered well. Adam.
”My kid was struggling a little. I can admit that, as a family, we were struggling. My wife died this year and it”s been hard. For both of us. But I watched my kid bend and I”ve been worried he might break. Hockey is his favorite sport, so when I found out about the camp, I looked into it. But money”s tight, so I didn”t mention it to him. The thing is, John Samuels called me personally to assure me that he”d find a spot for us and that he”d get it covered financially.” James looked back at his kid.
”And that camp? Yeah, maybe it”s just a game... ” his voice cracked. ”But it gave us both something new, something to be excited about, something to look forward to...”
Adam was a good player. But more than that, I saw what his father was talking about. He”d started the week quiet and withdrawn, but ended it with a smile and a promise to keep practicing. I knew we”d made a difference for him. I was proud of it.
”He”s the kind of man this town can”t afford to lose.”
Cheers went up from the crowd and I was horrified to feel a lump in my throat. I swallowed it down as my eyes swung away from the stage, but my gaze locked with one man standing just below the truck platform where I stood. The steely eyes were narrowed and surrounded by a host of crow”s feet that I didn”t remember being there. They widened when our focus met, and the breath pushed out of me.
Dad.
”You okay, dude?” Solamentes pounded my back as if I”d been choking.
I glanced at him. ”Yeah, fine.” I turned back to my father.
There was too much noise and chaos around us to say anything to him, and I wasn”t quite sure what I”d say anyway. But just as I lifted a hand in acknowledgement, another person strode confidently onto the stage in front of the crowd, and the noise level rose again.
Mizzoni. ”Hello Wilcox,” he said, his voice smooth and strong, just as I remembered it from the locker room chats we”d had when I”d first joined the team. ”Man, I”ve missed this place.” The crowd cheered.
”When I left, though, I did it with a clear mind because I knew the team, and my position were in good hands. John”s hands.”
More noise erupted.
This entire situation was surreal. What town got involved in the inner workings of their pro sports team”s management decisions? What town essentially attempted a coup? This was insane.
Mizzoni talked for a little while, and I found his girlfriend Hillary in the crowd, near the stage. Standing next to the woman I could pick out of any crowd, any time. Joey. Just as I found her, she turned and shot a wide, glittering smile at me that pulled a reaction from every bit and bob inside my body. She was like a fucking magnet.
I shook my head at her, trying to communicate my complete sense of overwhelm, but her smile never wavered. In fact, it grew so wide I began to wonder if she didn”t have something to do with all this.
Mizzoni wrapped up his speech by calling the team management to the stage, and I watched in shock as Slater, the team’s manager made his way through the crowd. My stomach clenched—there was a good chance he wasn”t going to be especially pleased about being second guessed this way... but as he took the microphone from Mizzoni, Rhino shot me a half smile and ran a hand across his short hair as he stood next to Slater.
”You know,” Slater began. ”My job as this team”s manager is to make smart decisions that give us the best odds of bringing a cup home to Wilcox. And that”s what this trade was about. Or that was how it began, at least.” He looked over the crowd, which had fallen almost silent.
”But part of what makes a team successful in a small town like Wilcox is the support of the fans. And the fact that all of you were willing to come out this evening to show your support for a player, to express your desire to keep him here... well, I don”t take that lightly.”
The crowd gave a little cheer, but like them, I realized he hadn”t made any commitments.
”The thing is, this is a business decision,” he went on, eliciting a few boos from the crowd. ”And I”m not the only one involved. However,” he said, waving a hand to try to quiet those beginning to jeer. ”I will take your opinions into account. We need the town”s support to continue to operate here, and you”ve made your opinion in this matter very clear. I will see what I can do about keeping John Samuels on the roster,” Slater said.
”As a starter!” someone yelled loudly, and I looked down in shock, realizing it was my father.
”Yeah!” someone else followed.
Soon, the whole crowd was screaming again, and the cacophony evolved into a chant that blew my mind. ”Samuels! Samuels! Samuels!”
These things were not decided by crowds of people at impromptu parades—I knew that and so did they. But it was incredible to see the support the town was willing to offer their team. To offer me. And as the sheer shock of the entire thing rolled through me, I met my father”s eyes again, and my knees nearly went out.
When had Dad ever plead my case? When had he ever taken the time to stand up for me, to support me?
It was all too much, and when the truck rumbled to life again, as the crowd cheered and screamed my name, exhaustion pushed through me like a herd of wild horses.
The last few weeks of uncertainty, and now this? I needed a very long nap.
No, I thought again. What I needed was Joey.