Page 25 of Foster

I bark out a laugh. “I don’t have enough hair for that to matter. You, on the other hand, have tons and I will be gallant and if you ever get drunk and start vomiting, I will gladly hold your hair.” The thought of having all those soft red locks in my hands is a very nice thought indeed.

Another eye roll which makes me want to kiss her.

Stop it, pervert. You cannot be thinking of Mazzy like that.

She puts on one of her stern looks that has probably been leveled more at me than at Bowie Jane. I started to drink OJ straight from the container the other day and the look she gave me had me reaching for a glass.

“You’re my employer,” Mazzy says as she snaps the buckle into place, and for a split moment, I think she has the power to read my mind and I flush hot. But then she quips, “I’m in charge of your kid. The last thing you will ever see me is drunk.”

Laughing mostly with relief, I start to shut the door but not before I say, “Fair enough. Drive safe.”

“Always,” she says.

I wait for her to back out of the spot before I head over to the guys waiting for me. I’m good for a few beers and I’ll get an Uber home. Maybe Mazzy will still be up when I get there.

CHAPTER 10

Foster

During the regular season, many of the players head over to Mario’s, a nearby bar and restaurant, to celebrate victories. A lot of the dedicated fans hang out there and it’s always a good time. It lets the Titans players mingle with the fans on a grassroots level and I’ve been so impressed by how respectful they generally are with us.

But tonight, some of the players decided to meet up at Jerry’s Lounge, a low-key biker bar owned by Hendrix Bateman’s girlfriend, Stevie. It’s where most of the players have been hanging when they don’t want to be bothered by fans. Since Hendrix started dating Stevie and some of the players started hanging out here more regularly, the patrons who frequent the bar have just gotten used to us. We’re treated like regular people here and not star athletes, which is nice for a change.

Rafferty drove King and me over to Jerry’s. When we walk in, we get a few chin lifts from some bikers sitting at the bar. I don’t see Stevie around and I’m not sure if Hendrix will be here, but I know a few other players are coming.

“There’s North,” Rafferty says as he points to a table near the windows.

Rafferty is a third-line defenseman from the Edmonton Grizzlies who replaced Mason Lavoie in a huge five-player trade that Callum Derringer worked on this summer. He’s a hulking figure topping out at almost six six, and even though I’m six three, I feel small walking in behind him.

We walk toward North Paquette—joining me on my line as a right-winger—who was acquired from the Seattle Storm. He’s lightning fast and has some of the quickest stick work I’ve ever seen. I’m excited to be on the same line as it’s rounded out nicely with the addition of Atlas Karolak from the Columbus Hawks as our left-winger. With Camden Poe and Hendrix as our defensemen, our second line is going to be dynamite.

But while all these guys were newsworthy trades in their own right, no one created more buzz in the sporting world than when Penn Navarro accepted the Titans’ offer to head up the team as the first-line center, replacing Coen Highsmith. Penn was a free agent with the Florida Spartans who just missed out on the championship in a hard-fought battle against the Dallas Mustangs that went the full seven games. Most would’ve thought he’d stay with the Spartans because he could probably still taste how close he was to victory, but I guess the one hundred million dollars offered for an eight-year contract was too tempting to pass up. I know I sure as fuck wouldn’t have.

And the Titans had no problem paying that type of money as they effectively maneuvered the salary cap and stretched the contract out over eight years. It was a gamble management was willing to take since Penn is the best player in the league by a long shot.

They gambled because they don’t want to wait for a championship and I’m personally glad about that. I’ve been in the league ten years and haven’t come close and I’d like a taste of that level of victory.

At any rate, the excitement for this season has reached a fever pitch. Even tonight’s game was exciting because the fans were so loud, the stadium was vibrating. The Titans are, after all, the darlings of the hockey world. We are a rebuilt team rising from the ashes of a plane crash that killed everyone the season before last. The fact that Brienne Norcross and Callum Derringer are building a team full of highly rated players tells the world they’re seriously gunning for the championship and that has in turn ignited the fans in their quest to cheer us on.

“I wonder if Penn will come,” I say as we head toward North’s table.

“Doubt it,” King says from behind me. “He hasn’t come to any gathering since camp started.”

Penn is definitely a bit of a mystery. He’s kept to himself at training camp, not willing to engage in small talk between drills. When he’s working out, he has his earbuds in and that look on his face that says he doesn’t want to be disturbed. While he’ll begrudgingly stop to sign autographs if fans are around, he does it quickly and without engaging in conversation. In fact, I’d think he was completely mute if I hadn’t heard him curse in frustration when someone made a mistake or wasn’t playing up to potential.

Penn didn’t dress for a single preseason game because he didn’t need to. His position is the most secure on the team.

Truth be told, my position is secure too. I did play a few minutes tonight, but it wasn’t necessary. I think Coach put me out there just to get the competitive blood flowing. Same with Rafferty, King, North and Atlas. These were all trades that cost the Titans dearly, so they’re not going to be hacking it down in the minors.

“About time you grandmas got here,” North says as we take seats around the table.

North is a cool guy. I actually got to hang with him a bit this summer as he attended our assistant coach Gage Heyward’s wedding in Charleston, South Carolina. North and Gage played together on the Seattle Storm and are close friends. He and I did a few too many shots at the reception and I have vague memories of a dance-off, which I wish I remembered none of because I can’t dance for shit.

But man, what a wedding it was. Held outdoors at a country club under massive sprawling oaks laden with dripping Spanish moss, Gage’s soon-to-be wife Jenna arrived in a carriage drawn by four pristine white horses. When she stepped out with the help of her father, her dress billowed around her, making her look every bit the princess Gage thought her to be.

I’ve been to a few weddings in my lifetime, especially since becoming a professional hockey player because someone is always getting married, but Gage and Jenna’s nuptials were by far the most romantic and beautiful I’ve ever seen.

A waitress appears, a pretty little thing with sunny blond hair caught up in a high ponytail, a low-cut black T-shirt and minuscule white shorts.

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