Chapter 1
2480 Words
Most would say I’m living the dream. The veterans on my team, the Florida Fury, tell me to live it up, that it doesn’t last forever. And I have to say, being a professional hockey player, even as a rookie, isn’t bad. Sure, I’m not seeing my jersey on every kid’s back like our first-line center, Aiden Drake, but I get to play my favorite sport for a living.
The cameras, the interviews, the strangers asking for selfies aren’t really my thing anyway. I’ve always been shy in that respect, since my dad put a lot of pressure on me growing up about how I represented myself. He’s always told me that you don’t get a second chance to reinvent yourself. Oh sure, people say you do, but everyone still remembers that thing you did.
My phone rings in the center console of the new sports car I bought when I was drafted down here. Seeing my dad’s name on the screen sours the burrito I just ate. The man stalks me more than the puck bunnies after a game. But I can’t ignore him.
The Bluetooth kicks in as I answer the call. “Hey, Dad.”
“When will you be able to keep your d**k in your pants?”
“Franklin!” my mom hollers in the background.
“One of these days, you’re gonna get someone pregnant and you’ll have a baby mama who wants that paycheck of yours, not your dick.”
“Franklin!”
I sigh and flick on my turn signal. I don’t know where he finds this stuff. “What did you see?”
“I search your name every morning and a new article always pops up.”
“And?” I wave to get this conversation moving even if he can’t see me.
“You were in the ocean with some woman. It’s pretty clear from the pictures what you two are doing, even if it is fuzzy.”
I blow out a breath, remembering Ande for a moment before I wonder why the hell some outlet would be reporting about us now. Ande and I had a vacation fling while I was at my teammate, Ford Jacobs’s, destination wedding months ago. Hell, Ande was my start to sleeping with random women. Of course, I hooked up some in college, but that was nothing like what it is in the pros. My teammates are right.
“Dad, I’m young. I’m not gonna apologize for enjoying myself at my teammate’s wedding. Any other guy in his twenties is out there—”
“And how many guys in their twenties are living their dream of playing professional hockey?” He cuts me off with his typical tone of authority.
“Not a lot, but that doesn’t mean—”
“I know what it’s like. I do. But let me remind you that you have a responsibility to your people, to represent us in a positive light.”
I blow out a breath. “I’m just having fun.”
“Well, if the fact that you’re a role model for so many young Black boys out there isn’t motivation enough, how about your mom crying after church the other day?”
My arms straighten and I force my back into the driver’s seat, annoyed he’s pulling a guilt trip on me. “Why was Mom crying?”
“Because of these articles. We’re a small town and you’re not representing us well.”
“Why do I have to represent you? I’m just being myself.”
“It’s an honor to represent your hometown. And if being yourself is having relations with a woman in the ocean with hundreds of witnesses, then you’re not the son I know and raised.”
I groan and wonder if telling my dad about Ande is even worth it. She wasn’t some random, though there isn’t a future there. Hell, what do I have to lose?
“She was different, okay?”
“If she was so different, then why all the women after her… oh.” The light bulb goes off. “She’s the on—”
Now it’s my turn to cut off my dad. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying I was interested in her, but she lives thousands of miles away and I reached out a few times but got nothing in return.”
“So you decided to go on p***y patrol?”
“Franklin!” Mom shouts in the background.
“You know better. That’s not how these things fix themselves.”
“I know, but I’m only young once.”
That’s the line Tweetie told me last season when we were in Chicago and I was on the fence about staying at the hotel with Warner instead of going clubbing with the other guys. Tweetie was adamant that I shouldn’t sit in a hotel room. That’s what guys like Drake and Jacobs did. Men who had found the love of their lives. I’m not sure how he envisions Tedi, his longtime girlfriend, but I will say he didn’t even dance with another woman while we were there. At least when I saw him.
“That sounds like some bullshit a teammate said to you.”
How can he possibly know that? “Maybe I have to experience different women to know what I want?”
He groans. “Your mother is the only woman I’ve ever been with and somehow I knew she was the one for me.”
“I guess you’re better than me.” I check over my shoulder and change lanes, then shift gears and press my foot down on the gas.
“I’m warning you to cut this s**t out. I’m not being hard on you because I’m mad about these articles. I called because it’s upsetting your mother and you know whose side I’m always gonna be on when it comes to your mother and someone else.”
“Even your own son?”
“Yes. Unapologetically yes. But if you keep this up, Cory, the talk is gonna be about what you’re doing off ice and not what you’re doing on it. Got it? Is that what you wanna be known for? How many women are in your bed on game nights rather than how many goals you scored?”
“It’s not like I’m getting a ton of ice time,” I grumble, pulling into the parking lot of the Florida Fury arena.
“We talked about this. You gotta pay your dues. Your time is coming. Especially now that you guys have Langley. Aiden Drake is an exceptional center, but your time will come, son.”
“When all my good years are over?” I’m whining because I’m pissed about Ande now that my dad has brought her up. I thought we had a real connection and for her to just ghost me after we returned home from the island pisses me off.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I ask, parking my car and letting it idle while I watch my teammates walk into the arena.
“Feel sorry for yourself. You made the right choice.”
Mr. Gerhardt asked me point blank whether I’d be okay sitting on a lower line for the first year or two when he considered drafting me. Otherwise, the Sharks were willing to take me and I’d be a starter, but that team is crumbling. That’s how the Fury got Langley—they needed the money from his salary off their books. I didn’t want to be a star who never won a Cup. I want to be on a strong team that wins the Cup and, if we’re lucky, multiple years in a row.
“I know I did.”
“And as for the girl, it’s best to put your personal life aside for right now. Train, eat healthy, and make sure you’re one-hundred-percent ready when your number is called up.”
I nod although my dad can’t see me. “Okay.”
“I’m only hard on you because you’ve got something special that doesn’t come around often. How many Black men are in the league right now?”
“I get it.”
“Then show it.”
“Yes, sir. Listen, I gotta go. Practice is gonna start soon.” My finger hovers over the end call button.
“We love you,” he says.
“We miss you!” my mom yells.
“Clear your schedule up for dinner when you play St. Louis? Your mom and I want to take you out.”
“Done.”
“Good. Love you, son.”
“I love you.”
We hang up and I sit there for a moment, thinking about what my dad said. He’s always right. Sleeping around isn’t earning me anything except a reputation I don’t want.
A bang on my window startles me, and I turn to find Warner Langley standing there. “Do you want to be late?”
I open my door and we file inside since all our gear is already in our lockers.
“You’re coming tonight to the barbeque, right? After practice.”
“I don’t have a side dish yet.”
Warner is having a get-together tonight after we’re done here, and we’re all supposed to bring a side dish.
“Imogen and the girls are shopping after practice. You can go with them. Text me when you guys are on your way back.”
“What’s going on?” I ask since he’s being vague.
“Nothing. I just have a surprise for her.” He pats me on the back. “Thanks for helping out.”
Warner speeds up to walk alongside Ford, and the two of them whisper to one another for a minute.
It’s still weird seeing them be close. Up until a couple months ago, Ford was set on making Warner’s life here miserable because of some s**t that went down between Warner and Ford’s sister, Imogen, when they were teens.
In the locker room, I sit on the bench and suit up for practice. But I quickly get distracted and pick up my phone, wanting to know what article my dad read. I wonder if it holds some sign that I missed when it came to Ande. I’ve never had an instant connection with a woman like I did when Ande sat next to me on the bus that would take us from the airport to the resort. It was almost as if I knew her in another life or some s**t. Jesus, I gotta get a grip. I’m losing my f*****g mind over a woman I knew for less than seven days. A woman who wouldn’t even return my phone call. Several of them, in fact.
It doesn’t take long to find the article, and I think it’s popping up again now because there’s a new comment on the thread that’s tickled the algorithms. I read the comment and my hand clenches tighter around the phone. It’s from a woman who says I slept with her two weeks ago in Los Angeles and never called afterward. That I made her feel like Cinderella, treating her like a princess until midnight when I demanded she leave my room.
Such bullshit. First of all, I never have s*x in my room because I share one with Warner when we’re on the road and he’d be pissed. I always go to the woman’s place… f**k, listen to yourself, Freeman.
As if the universe is trying to drill home what a douchebag I’ve been, a new text message arrives.
York: I’m due to come to your area of the country in a week or so. No specifics yet. I know we only hook up in Denver, but I thought it might be fun somewhere different. ;)
I met York at a bar the first time we played Colorado and she keeps tabs on me, so it’s easy to hook up with her every time I go through town. And unlike the woman in the comments, York doesn’t care that there are no strings attached.
Me: If you want tickets let me know.
York: You know I don’t care about hockey. Just be sure to reserve time with you.
Me: You got it.
York: I’ll keep you in the loop. In the meantime…
A picture pops up of her t**s. Damn.
“You’re really taking this whole manwhore role to heart, eh?” Kane Burrows, the Florida Fury goalie, sits next to me and looks over at my phone.
“I don’t ask.” I click the button on the side of my phone to turn off the screen.
He’s quick to raise his hand and shake his head. “It’s your business.”
He puts on his equipment. Kane is older and probably in his last couple of years in the league, but I’ve developed a sort of mentorship with him. He’s been in the league so long, there isn’t much he hasn’t experienced.
“I just mean I don’t ask for them.”
He nods, then shrugs. “But you accept them.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
He chuckles and adjusts his pads. “You’re not supposed to do anything. We’ve all handled it differently over the years. Take Tweetie for instance, who was a lot like you his first few years and, hell, many years after. Jacobs wasn’t exactly keeping it in his pants. Some players are just more discreet. Like Drake would get p***y but rarely did anyone know about it.”
“And you?”
He chuckles again and pushes his hand through his chin-length hair. “I’ve been through my phases, but I learned a long time ago that I want my name on people’s lips because of my ability in front of the net, not because of how many baby mamas I have or how much I pay in child support. Or worse, how I imploded my family because I couldn’t keep my d**k in my pants.”
I lace up my skates, thinking of what Kane said. I know I need to figure out my own path in this league, carve out a place for myself. Let’s face it, right now, my personal life is way more interesting than my professional life. I’m getting a s**t ton more s*x than I am ice time. I guess if I want to change that, I’d better spend more time practicing on the ice than f*****g in the sheets.
Step one is to forget I ever met Ande Evans. The whole reason I’ve been sleeping with so many women is to try to erase her from my mind. If I can forget her, maybe I stand a chance of getting my s**t together.
- Writer
