10. Jules
TEN
JULES
The only thing I know about hockey is that it’s a sport. Despite years of watching Lavinia play and having her explain the game, it goes in through one ear and out the other. I know it all moves too quickly for me to even register what’s happening on the ice.
I watch it because of Lavinia. I try to take interest in all the things which interest her. Since the Titans are in the playoffs and these are the Conference Finals--whatever that means--this is all very important. It’s the reason I’m here tonight despite Drew’s and mine pact to ignore each other.
It’s barely been a week since then and so far, we’ve been successful. Except for when we had to sit next to each other at family dinner, but we didn’t talk or look at each other. It’s a win.
Lavinia shifts in her chair, leaning forward slightly. I look up from my ereader and glance at her. Hey, I said I come to the games with her, that doesn’t mean I pay attention. The game starts to get boring for me after the first fifteen minutes of watching the guys skate up and down the rink.
I know it’s a lot more complicated than that and I’m not belittling the effort it takes. After having watched Lavinia train for years, I know exactly the kind of effort required to make it to the big leagues.
It’s just that, when I say I have zero interest, I have zero interest. I appreciate sitting in the friends and family room where I can watch the game while reading my book in peace and sipping on a cocktail.
I follow Lavinia’s gaze down to the rink and see the team huddled around the boards like they’re having a quick yap session in the middle of the game.
“What’s going on?” I ask, noticing the interest on her face.
“They’re attempting a breakout,” Lavinia explains distractedly.
I hum, like I know exactly what she’s talking about. Lavinia narrows her eyes at me, a knowing smile tilting up her lips. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
I shake my head. “I’m sure it makes me a bad friend that I don’t know anything about your former job.”
“Please, you’re the love of my life. How can you possibly be bad?” Lavinia points at the rink below. “Do you see how Ford has the puck?”
I look for Ford, and nod when I find the ‘Everett’ jersey.
“We’re changing from being on the defensive to being on the offensive--instead of protecting and blocking, we’re going to be attacking. The idea here is to leave the defensive zone with the puck.”
Along the boards, Ford passes the puck to Roman.
“Why are they so close to the boards? Are they just trying to protect the puck?”
Lavinia tilts her head back and forth. “Yeah, but they’re also using the boards as an extra teammate.”
The puck is passed to Drew and the crowd cheers when he crosses the blue line, which I remember is called the neutral zone.
“What the hell are they doing now?” I ask, leaning forward slightly. The guys are in the offensive zone and they keep passing the puck between each other.
“This is a classic game strategy,” Lavinia says. “They’re tiring out the other teammate by not taking a shot at the goal. Do you see how they keep moving? Along the boards now, look, and now there’s two of them behind the net?”
I nod, watching the puck travel back and forth between the Titans.
“If you keep the puck moving, the other team won’t always know where it is, which means their defense will weaken and--”
“--that’s when you shoot at the net!”
Lavinia looks at me, her grin proud. “Exactly!”
I sit back against my chair, pretty proud of myself for having kept up with Lavinia’s explanations. Maybe hockey isn’t so boring after all.
June starts off with Lavinia and I filming the final episode of Unscripted for this season. We’ll be on a summer hiatus with the next episode coming out in September.
“What did you think of the game the other night?” Lavinia smiles at me from across the table in my office. Our production company would rather have us record in their studios downtown, that way they can film us as well.
But that idea was vetoed very quickly, for obvious reasons.
“I didn’t hate it,” I say.
“You heard it here, folks. She didn’t hate it,” Lavinia says dramatically.
“Okay, so it wasn’t as boring as I was anticipating,” I admit.
“Our listeners always want to know if I’ve converted you into a hockey lover,” Lavinia says. “What do you have to say to them?”
“I’m not a hockey lover by any means, but I didn’t entirely hate the game the other night. It helps that we won,” I say. “Notice how I say we like their victory is somehow my victory.”
“That’s the first step to being a hockey lover.”
When I think about it, it’s not the sports I mind so much as sports players. The Titans are nothing but nice and respectful, but I’ve met sports players who aren’t nice, who are entitled and mean simply because they know how to throw around a ball or chase a ball or hit a ball.
“Well, they’re in the final finals now, I guess? How many rounds are there to this thing?”
Lavinia pauses mid-sip of her coffee. “If by this thing you mean the playoffs, then there are four rounds—First Round, Second Round, Conference Finals, and the Stanley Cup Finals. And you’re right, the Titans are now in the Stanley Cup Finals against Los Angeles.”
“Does Los Angeles have a good team?”
“They’re in the finals.” Lavinia shrugs.
Which is her way of saying she’s not going to say more on the subject.
One thing we decided early on with the podcast is that we know sports can be a polarizing topic, so we’re not going to say if we—and by we, I mean Lavinia—isn’t going to say whether she loves or hates a team.
The incel comments are bad enough from hearing Lavinia—gasp!
A WOMAN—commenting about sports. As if she doesn’t have Olympic medals to prove she knows her shit with hockey.
“Speaking of playoffs, the New York Valkyries won the Walter Cup,” I say. “How does it feel to see your former team winning?”
Lavinia played for New York Valkyries for three years before an injury had her putting up her skates.
It was the lowest I’d ever seen her and it was during that time that she met her ex and moved to Philadelphia.
She almost married him, too, and we still say how thankful we are that she got left at the altar by his toxic ass.
The love that shines through her now is impossible to miss.
“Now there’s a win that feels personal,” Lavinia says. “My girls deserve it, too. They worked their asses off.”
**The SnackPack**
Elena
Should we do something tonight?
Lavinia
The team’s supposed to be at Archer’s. We can go bother them and make them buy us drinks.
Jules
You just want to check out your husband.
Lavinia
You can’t blame me. He’s hot.
Sage
I’m fine with Archer’s.
Elena
Vin - gross! That’s literally my cousin. Second, I’m not going if Reese is going to be there.
Jules
Oh no. What did Reese do? Why do men ruin everything?
Elena
He hasn’t done anything. We’ve barely spoken.
Sage
Oh. I was going to say I’ve never seen the two of you talk. What’s wrong then?
Elena
His face doesn’t match his voice. I can’t trust him.
Lavinia
What?
Elena
His face doesn’t watch his voice.
Jules
Explain, please.
Elena
He’s got a nice face. A really nice face that matches his personality. The kind of guy you can take home to your dads and you know they’ll love him.
Sage
And the issue is?
Elena
He sounds like he wants to tell you to shut up and take it like a good girl.
Sage
Um… I have to work with him. Why would you put that in my head?
Jules
I get it.
Lavinia
JULES!
Jules
Reese has a very sexy voice! Have you never paid attention??
Elena
Exactly! Which is why I don’t trust him. How can I look him in the eyes and hold a conversation when I know he’s thinking that?
Sage
I don’t think he’s actually thinking that? He’s always been very respectful with me.
Elena
Just trust me on this.
Lavinia
Okay, so we’re not going to Archer’s then?
Elena
Nah, let’s go. I want their nachos. I’ll be damned if a man makes me give up nachos.
This is how we find ourselves at Archer’s, staring at Reese in wonder. He’s dressed like he usually is, in an incredibly bright printed shirt, left unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His blond hair is tousled and there’s a silver chain glinting on his neck.
He laughs at something Holden says and it’s such a nice laugh, too.
“Wait, girls, we’re being so creepy right now,” Sage says.
I grab a nacho off the plate in the middle of the table and pop the salty, cheesy goodness into my mouth.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Elena says, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. Her every movement is graceful, probably due to the years she spent as a professional ballerina. She’s wearing a black tank top with her jeans, which reveals the tattoos on her arm.
Sage is sitting beside her and looks downright prim and proper in her shirt dress.
“If you have doubts, you should always tell your friends,” I say.
“They’re not doubts. Just years of suspicion from being raised on true crime.”
Lavinia and I exchange a look, neither mentioning that Reese is also a true crime buff. I doubt it will have the desired effect of making Elena see him as a friend she might have something in common with and will just make him more of a threat.
“Anyway.” Elena turns to Sage. “Do you need help with anything at the new house?”
“Not yet,” Sage says. “We still need to approve the designs for Junie’s room and the little Miss is still undecided. The designer has come back with a design for the rest of the house which River and I like so the work will start in the next two weeks.”
“You’re doing all that by yourself?” Lavinia asks.
Sage sips her beer, nodding. “For now. River is packing up our house in San Fran and I can’t imagine that’s easy with Junie.”
“I can’t imagine it’s easy for you to be here without Junie,” I say.