Page 20 of Gross Misconduct

Since this was our first game of the season, all the introductions had to be made. I couldn’t help but notice that when my name and number 23 were announced, the crowd gave muted applause. They went wild for Warde, Ethan, Ryan. When had Warde become a crowd favorite?

No. I had to shut this all out and focus on the game. And that’s what I did. We were playing Seattle, and although I didn’t figure in on any of the scoring, we won the game 4–2. Not a bad start to the season. We did our post-game interviews, and I thought about getting out of there before any reporter asked a question that crossed a line. I’d been avoiding them andreferring to my statement, saying that it was time to move on, but some of the reporters had been tenacious. Well, they weren’t going to get a sound bite from me. I was more interested in meeting up with Tangi and Jill in the team lounge. Wait … had I just thought that? Looking forward to seeing Jill? She and I had started spending time together, and I couldn’t believe that I was actually enjoying it. Once I’d gotten used to her acerbic nature. I found her funny and maybe a little reserved, as if she had to protect herself form something. I hadn’t figured out what that was just yet.

Just when I thought I could avoid the shitty reporter questions, Lance Jacobson, the chief sports reporter for theVancouver Times, hit me with a low blow. He had a history of being a jackass, so I shouldn’t be surprised. What pissed me off about the guy was that he was barely five foot six, at least two-twenty, and had probably never played a competitive sport in his life.

“Jeremy, what did it feel like not being the captain on opening night?”

I looked down at him and kept my cool. “I think Warde and Grant are doing a great job. And we won tonight, so I feel great.”

“Do you think that Coach Anthony made the right decision by removing you as captain,” he asked in a follow-up question meant to set me off.

“He made a decision that was right for the team.”

“You a agree with it?”

“I agree with what’s right for the team. Thanks, guys,” I said to the assembled reporters and gently pushed my way through to the showers.

An hour later, Ethan and I were heading up to the lounge. The ladies were enjoying a drink at one of the tables, joined by a few of the other wives and girlfriends waiting for theirpartners. If I had to guess, based on the way she sat half on, half off the barstool, Jill wasn’t feeling comfortable, which based on what I knew of her, didn’t surprise me. I had been thinking about her a lot—not in a romantic way, of course. But I was trying to figure this chick out, and from what little Ethan had told me or remembered, she was a cold fish who liked to be bossy. But there had to be more to her than that, and part of me wanted to find that out.

“Hello, ladies,” I said when I reached the table. Watson’s girlfriend smiled politely while Volkov’s wife sneered outright. These women barely knew Orla. Was this some bullshit solidarity? Orla had never been one to hang with the wives and girlfriends. She couldn’t be bothered with their fancy parties. She was far more interested in being out there, getting herself seen, and when she was hanging with the ladies, she was just one of them, and that didn’t sit well with her. She wanted to be the only star and had no intention of sharing the spotlight.

Watson and Volkov’s significant others said their goodbyes, and I took one of the seats while Ethan took the other.

“It seems I know how to clear a room,” I said.

“Don’t feel so bad,” Jill said. “They didn’t want to talk to me either.”

“That’s not true,” Tangi said, although her voice didn’t sound all that convincing.

Jill puffed out a laugh. “Come on! They wanted nothing to do with me once they found out I was staff.”

“No, it wasn’t like that at all. You barely talked to them.”

Ethan put up his hand to stop the budding disagreement. “I’m starved. Let’s go for a bite to eat.”

“It can’t be too late. I have to work in the morning,” Tangi said.

“How about you?” I asked Jill.

“It’s the weekend, and I’m as free as a bird.”

We hit an Italian restaurant near Graham Place. Some of the guys went there all the time, but tonight it was just the four of us. Ethan and I ordered the same grilled chicken and side of vegetables and brown rice. The owner knew exactly how to spice it up with herbs, chicken broth, and just the right amount of salt. While it always tasted great, I salivated over the pizza Jill and Tangi were sharing.

“How’s it going with Warde?” I asked Ethan as my fork chased some rice around my plate.

Ethan scowled. “As good as can be expected? He wants to have meetings before practice to discuss the previous game and which of the guys need more help. I tried to explain that it’s Coach Anthony’s job to do that, but he won’t listen to me.”

“I told you to be firm with him. If he senses any weakness, he’ll pounce and have you watching videos for hours. The guy is just too intense.”

Tangi put her hand up to stop us. Since she’d worked with Warde last year, helping him rehab an injury, she’d had a soft spot for the tyrant, much to Ethan’s chagrin.

“Both of you stop. Brandon is more dedicated to the team than anyone else. Why do you always have to attack him?”

“Because he’s too dedicated,” Ethan muttered.

“Exactly,” I said. “No one wants to hear his ideas or wants his help. He needs to lay off a bit, and that’s the problem. He’s coming up with workout routines that no one asked for. It’s too much.”

“You two are insufferable,” Tangi said.

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