Chapter 34 Rodriguez #3
More questions. More cameras. I answer on autopilot, giving them the standard hockey player responses—pucks on net, team effort, building momentum for playoffs—while my mind is already gone, already in that hotel room.
Finally, after what feels like hours, the media starts to thin out.
Barrett finds me as I’m pulling off my skates. “Rodriguez. Take the next practice off. Rest up. You earned it.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“And Rodriguez?” He’s got that almost-smile again. “Whatever motivation you’ve got with your girl being here, keep it up. You play different when she’s watching.”
My face burns. “Yes, Coach.”
He walks away and Dex immediately takes his place, grinning like he knows every dirty secret I’ve ever had.
“Five goals. FIVE. You realize you’re never living this down, right?”
“Good problem to have.”
“Your girl looked like she was going to pass out when you scored that fifth one.” He’s laughing now. “What’d you promise her? A house? A yacht?”
“Nothing that expensive.”
“Must be something good.”
“Maybe I promised I’d learn to cook.”
“Nobody looks that shocked about cooking.”
“Maybe it was a really complicated recipe.”
Brody appears, already showered and changed. “We’re hitting that tattoo place two blocks from the hotel. Rodriguez, you’re getting a five-goal tribute tattoo.”
“I’m not getting a tattoo tonight.”
“Come on! Historic night needs permanent commemoration.”
“The scoresheet is permanent enough.”
“Lame. Luca, what about you?”
“Hard pass,” Luca says immediately from across the room.
“Still afraid of needles?” Dex grins.
“I’m not afraid of needles. I just don’t want permanent markings on my body that I’ll regret when I’m forty.”
“That’s exactly what someone afraid of needles would say,” Almardon points out, pulling his shirt on.
“Where is this coming from?” Luca demands. “I made forty-two saves tonight. Forty-two! Show some respect.”
“We respect you,” I say. “We just also know you passed out during your tetanus shot last year.”
“That was one time! And I was dehydrated!”
“You were lying on the table,” Brody reminds him. “How do you pass out when you’re already horizontal?”
“The nurse said it happens sometimes!”
“The nurse was being nice,” Anderson chimes in. “She looked pretty concerned.”
We spend twenty more minutes like this, the usual locker room chirping that happens when everyone’s riding high from a win.
Guys congratulating me, making increasingly ridiculous suggestions for how to celebrate—tattoos, piercings, someone suggests we steal something from the arena.
The energy’s still electric even though we’re off the ice.
I actually did it. Which means I have to follow through on five... yeah.
Can she actually handle five? When we made this bet, it seemed fun and flirty. Two goals was sexy. Three was ambitious.
But five? Five might actually break her. Or me. Or both of us.
At least we’ll have fun finding out.
I dress quickly—suit, tie slightly crooked because my hands are shaking with leftover adrenaline and anticipation.
The bus is already loading when I get outside.
“There he is!” Brody shouts. “The five-goal man!”
I make my way to my usual seat, trying to ignore the way everyone’s grinning at me. The bus pulls out and begins the slow crawl through downtown Calgary traffic.
My phone buzzes.
JuJu
I’m at the hotel.
Where?
JuJu
In our room. Having a mental breakdown.
Why?
JuJu
You know why.
Could be about anything. Very vague.
JuJu
FIVE GOALS ROMEO.
I was there.
JuJu
I’ve been googling things.
What things?
JuJu
Whether Calgary has good emergency rooms.
Why would you need an emergency room?
JuJu
Reasons. Five reasons specifically.
I’ll be gentle.
JuJu
Rodriguez, you just scored FIVE GOALS you don’t understand the concept of gentle.
I understand the concept of dedicated.
JuJu
That’s what I’m afraid of.
I’m hydrating aggressively.
Good girl.
JuJu
How long until you’re here?
I look out the window. We’re stuck at a red light, the hotel still fifteen minutes away through downtown traffic. Fifteen minutes that feel like fifteen hours.
Too long.
JuJu
I’m nervous.
That makes me pause. She doesn’t usually admit to nerves, usually everything is covered with sarcasm and sass.
We don’t have to. The bet was stupid.
JuJu
Romeo.
What?
JuJu
Get your ass here and deliver on your promise.
All five of them.
Ten minutes.
JuJu
I’ll be waiting.
Probably panicking but waiting.
Dex leans over from across the aisle, trying to read my phone.
“Your girl?”
“Yeah.”
“She recovered from watching you make history?”
“Still processing.”
“I bet she is.” He laughs. “Five goals. That’s marriage-level showing off, man.”
“We’re not married.”
“Yet,” Brody calls from two rows back. “But after tonight’s performance? She’d be stupid not to lock that down.”
“Maybe that was his plan,” Anderson suggests. “Score five goals, propose tonight while she’s still in shock.”
“That’s actually not a bad strategy,” Almardon agrees. “She can’t say no to a five-goal scorer.”
“She could definitely say no,” I argue.
“Not tonight she couldn’t. Tonight you’re basically Wayne Gretzky.”
“That’s blasphemous.”
“Five goals though,” someone else chimes in. “That’s Gretzky territory.”
The chirping continues but I tune it out, watching the city lights pass and thinking about what’s waiting for me at the hotel. About her nervous and anticipating. About the promise I made and how I’m going to keep it.
The bus finally pulls into the hotel. I’m off before it fully stops and take the stairs because the elevator’s too slow.
I pause outside the door for a second, trying to get my racing heart under control. Five goals. Five orgasms. I need to pace this right, make sure she can handle it, make sure I take care of her properly.
I made history in that arena tonight. And I’m about to make history off the ice too.