AGAINST THE ICE

Chapter12

Three weeks dragged by without me talking to Max again. My job consisted of shadowing Dad on everything he did and learning everything I could about our players.

I sat in meetings with Dad. I met with the media market team who explained their strategy for the year. I didn’t contribute.

My sole job was to learn. And learn I did. I listened, made notes, and asked hundreds of questions.

I was developing a greater respect for Dad. He had built his business with talent, business acumen and a lot of guts. Even if this was not something I wanted, it was teaching me what he wanted and what he had done to achieve it. Dad was not afraid of hard work.

The best part of my workday was when we sat together and watched the daily practice. He talked about how the game had changed. And we discussed various players, their strengths and weaknesses.

When Max was on the ice, it was difficult to not give him my undivided attention.

Although, my father couldn't fault me if I did, because he was everything we wanted in a player.

Max was the fastest player on the team. He had incredible accuracy when he shot and he was a phenomenal team player.

You could see how he reacted during plays, that he could think on his feet. No matter what scenario the coaches ran him through, he excelled.

My dad talked about everyone, but he rarely spoke about Max.

We watched Max make an exceptional shot at the net, during a drill, placing the puck where no one else could. I felt pride for how well he was shooting. Dreaming of other times.

Dreaming of when he had looked up at me from between my spread legs with that intense, I’m-going-to-blow- your-mind look. I had delicious daydreams about him. I wanted him to come to my office late at night after everyone had gone home.

I would wear a skirt, without panties and he would push that skirt above my hips, spin me around against the wall and then I would hear the zip of his pants come down. I would spread my legs farther and then he would trace his fingers over my…

“How’s it going with 33?” Dad’s question ripped me out of my daydream.

Oh my god.

Mortified, I worked to gather my thoughts.

“According to Katrina, from the media team, he’s attended three media meetings.”

Dad nodded. “Katrina knows her stuff.”

Katrina was stunningly beautiful with dark hair and a tall, model-thin body. The best part about Katrina is that she was a married woman.

“Max requested to change his volunteer duties.” He glanced at me. “To what?”

“He loves kids. So, with my approval, most of his volunteer work is with disadvantaged kids in the form of hockey camps and mentorships.”

My dad failed to keep the surprise off his face. “And he’s been doing his hours?”

“Yes. According to Katrina both the kids and the parents love him.” “How’s the media behaving?”

“Seventeen calls this week alone. Everyone wants to discuss Max and his past.”

My dad made a short noise in his throat.

“Do you have any reservations?” I asked, dreading his answer.

My dad crossed his arms and watched as Max made a remarkable shot on the net during the drill. He was thinking. “I don’t know. There’s something about him.”

I could feel my heart pound in my throat. “What do you mean?” He shook his head. “He reminds me of someone.”

“Who?”

His eyes followed Max down the ice. “Someone I didn’t like.” “Dad, you can’t dismiss Max because he reminds you of someone.” “Yes, I can. It’s called intuition.”

I rolled my eyes at Dad’s back. “He’s doing what we’ve asked him to do.”

“We’ll see.”

Those two words terrified me. My dad ruthlessly protected his team. I made a mental note to remind Katrina to follow up with Max before our first pre-season game about Max avoiding the media.

IT WAS the first game of the preseason and Dad had filled our executive viewing box with his friends and colleagues. It was a boisterous affair with plenty of food and booze.

I wasn’t in the mood. Before the game started, I glad-handed with his guests before slipping down to the family seats we always had reserved at ice level.

I’d never admit this to anyone, but I wanted to watch the game in peace. I didn’t want to make small talk with business executives while trying to concentrate on the game.

This was a big night for our players. We still hadn’t cut the roster, and a lot was riding on the game for several of the players. Not that I cared about most of those players. I was only worried about one.

Max.

It shocked me that Katrina was sitting in one of our eight private family seats that were off limits to everyone, including staff.

“Hi.” I sat down beside her.

Her delicate features were marred with shock at my arrival. Her beauty always stunned me.

At least she was a married woman.

She gave me a cold glance but didn’t say a word. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Katrina didn’t like me, but from day one, she had remained reserved around me.

Perhaps this was an opportunity to warm up our professional relationship.

I waved over one of the personal attendants that stood off to the side. “Could you please bring me a lager beer,” I glanced at Katrina. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

She didn't glance at me. “I’ll have a white wine.” The attendant disappeared.

“So, fresh new season, hey?” She ignored me.

Perhaps she had trouble hearing.

I waited until the attendant returned with our drinks. I passed Katrina her wine and then signed off on the receipt, leaving the attendant a generous tip.

Katrina didn’t thank me for her drink, nor did she thank the attendant which I found rude. Mom had ingrained impeccable manners into me from a young age. You always say thank you.

I gave her one last shot. “Your husband is always welcome to come to the games. You know we can get you some good seats.”

“My husband and I separated this summer.”

Instant retribution. Mom was always warning me you never knew what someone else was going through. Perhaps this is why Katrina seemed so distant.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” “Glad the d**k is gone.”

Or perhaps Katrina was simply an unpleasant person.

Music thundered around the stadium. Players spilled onto the ice for their pre-game warmup. I hadn’t seen Max close up in weeks and now I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him.

His skates and helmet added inches to his 6’4” frame, making him look like an ice warrior. He talked to another player, took a few shots on goal and appeared at home and relaxed on the ice.

So why was I so damn nervous for him and his first game?