20. Monty
CHAPTER 20
Monty
Mid-October
O pening night for the Edge.
By the time warm-ups started, I was a sweaty, exhausted mess. I’d been out on the pavilion for hours, then inside greeting fans and donors. Then back outside for the Kids’ Club meet-and-greet. At least there was a chill in the autumn mountain air. I couldn’t imagine how mascots in the South got through it. And characters at theme parks?
God bless them.
Jared held Ridgie’s head while I shoveled spoonfuls of Tasha’s latest experiment into my mouth. That woman could put the most bizarre ingredients together and it not only worked, it was always the best thing to date that she made.
Tonight’s dinner was a beef and sweet potato chili. She’d added tomatoes, a bunch of spices, corn, and even a bar of dark chocolate. And somehow, it worked.
Well .
“Fourteen minutes,” Jared warned, checking his phone. “You almost done?”
“Yeah.” I covered the container and shoved it back into my travel cooler bag. “I’ll finish it later.”
Jared secured the bear head and followed me through the halls to a bench by the tunnel, where my ice skates were waiting for me. I sat on a chair and pretended to put them on while Mags filmed.
“Got it!” she announced.
Jared slid the skates on my feet and laced them up. I pulled on the paws and he helped me to stand.
“You good?” Mags asked. “The team is coming.”
I gave her a thumbs-up, and she handed me a flag with the Edge’s logo. We made our way to the end of the tunnel to wait for my cue.
The noise of the crowd was deafening. “Thirty seconds,” she shouted.
Behind me, the team was lining up. The goalie always led the team onto the ice, but this team had a tradition where they picked a local youth hockey player to skate a lap with a smaller version of the flag I was holding. Because it was opening night, they’d decided to have me get the crowd going first.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please get on your feet and give a loud welcome to your fa-vo-rite bear, Ridgie!”
“Go!” Jared shouted.
I stepped onto the ice, holding the flagpole in front of me, taking a slow lap around the boards. When I passed the team’s family and friends section, I let go with one hand to wave and blow kisses.
The fans ate it up, but I couldn’t feel any joy.
Tasha was there with Penny, Gabby, and the other Wags and their families. I growled when I realized she was wearing Vlad’s jersey, number fifteen. And on her face, she’d painted a crescent moon with dash marks around the opening to complete the circle. Which had nothing to do with the Edge and everything to do with a love letter Vlad had given her.
It made sense. We were up to four letters now, and I was just waiting on another grand to hit my bank account before I sent back number five. And he’d taken her out to dinner two of the last four Sundays.
But I didn’t like it.
You fill my crescent moon to full.
Gag me. I thought she was too smart to fall for that garbage.
Apparently not.
I handed the flag to Jared and pushed myself through the players waiting for their signal. I heard the crowd quiet as the opening night video played and grow loud again when the kid skated out.
“Ridgie! Wait up!” Jared called, barely audible through the team’s intro song, “Livin’ on the Edge.” “We don’t have to rush upstairs yet! And you’re still on your skates!”
Right. I wanted to get up to the platform so I could watch Tasha, but I’d break my ankles if I didn’t change out my footwear.
Lucky for me, Mags had grabbed my shoes. I sat on the nearest bench and stuck a foot out.
“Diva,” Jared muttered. I couldn’t see his expression, but he didn’t sound mad.
Once my sneakers were on, we rode the elevator up silently. I was sure they were confused by my quick exit, but I didn’t owe them an explanation.
The doors parted, and I led the way to the platform. I waved to the crowd and danced, doing my best to sneak glances down to the ice.
But it was no use. It was too dark, the family section was too far away, and my giant head obstructed any chance of me viewing that section, even if the distance wasn’t too far.
After the opening ceremony, Jared, Mags, and I retreated to an unused conference room, where I couldn’t get my head off fast enough.
“Bruh, are you all right?” Jared asked. “Breathing okay?”
I thought back to Thursday night, when the drywall or insulation impeded Tasha’s breathing. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just needed a break.”
“Good,” Mags said. “Because the game just started, so we’re here for a good three hours. I’ve got a long wish list of content from my boss.”
“We’ll get it done,” I said. “What’s next?”
She scrolled her phone. “Second time-out shenanigans, mini Zamboni ride, T-shirt cannon, pics with our featured veteran and his family…”
We got it all done, and when the final horn sounded, the Edge had won 3-2, with two goals from Xavier—almost unheard of for a defenseman in a first game of the season—and a five-hole goal from Zaki Marsch, right between the goalie’s legs. Plastic and stuffed birds flew onto the ice at the buzzer—an homage to last season’s pigeon incident—and I had a feeling there would be some bird-related bits in my near future. Thanks to fan demand, and an official vote, there were already talks of adding a second mascot, Percy T. Pigeon. “T” for “the.” I hoped they came up with something more creative for its middle name.
It could be worse. At least they weren’t dead birds—or fish. Nashville fans throw catfish; Detroit fans throw octopi … shudder.
I waded into the crowd, taking pictures and posing for fans. It was fun, but my heart wasn’t in it. I just wanted to get home and grill Tasha on her relationship with Vlad.
I arrived home just before midnight and wasn’t surprised to see Tasha’s door closed. I made sure Parfait’s food and water dishes were full—they were, bless Tasha’s heart—and I set my alarm for 5 a.m.
It came quickly. I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, reminding myself that after she left, I could go back to bed.
Sometimes, it was good to be me.
But the realization made me feel worse, not better. Tasha never slept in, even if she could.
“What are you making?” I asked her.
She looked up from the cutting mat and smiled. “Barbecued pulled pork with carrots and cauliflower. What are you doing up?”
“Looks good,” I replied. “It’s Tuesday. Going to get in an early workout since we have practice tonight. Only four weeks until the showcase.”
“Which we will rock,” she said vehemently. “Taylor Brewer sent me a video of the Kalispell Worlds team. Our stunts are far more advanced.”
“They always have been,” I said, sliding onto a stool at the bar. “Just because they have two former national team members coaching their team, it doesn’t mean the squad can actually execute the higher-level stuff.” That was only true for us and our team.
“True,” Tasha agreed. “But the team has improved tremendously since Taylor and Kane took it over. She can even compete, if she wants to. She demonstrates what she wants from the basket girls.”
Taylor was local to Palmer City and a former athlete and coach here at the Plex before she married Brenna’s cousin Kingston. He’d been traded to Montana a few years ago, and she now coached at the gym there. “I sent her portions of our routine to critique, and she admitted we were levels above them and most of the other big gyms. They’re rooting for us, but we have to beat the Ontario team. They aren’t giving any other team a peek at their stunts.”
“We already knew that.” I shifted in my seat. “Got any connections in Canada?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Evan could leave an Olympic gymnast in the dust if he went up against him in a floor routine. Your basket girls can do things in the air no one even dreamed about five years ago. And the FireVolts have the best coaches. How can we lose?”
She grinned. “They do, don’t they?”
“One hundred percent,” I agreed.