Page 8 of Blood on the Rocks

Chapter 4

Seraphina took a deep breath. She was at Sea Side, in the lower level where the locker rooms were. Her stomach was filled with all kinds of insects, buzzing and flying and crashing into each other. She had to curl her fingers into fists to stop them from shaking.

“Ready?” Katella murmured from her side. “They’re waiting.”

The blazer she wore seemed one size too big, but the matching grey slacks fit her quite well. She had wavy blonde hair that looked difficult to tame, even with the various products on the market that claimed to do so. Her side-swept bangs framed her heart-shaped face, and her lips were full, even without the aid of gloss. Though she was wearing a somewhat loose white top, her large breasts contrasted with her slim waist, and then grew into her wide hips. Madison watched as she tried to climb onto the stool without hesitation, but the one thing Seraphina seemed to lack was the grace to emphasize her good looks because she stumbled slightly before finding her balance. Even on the stool, she seemed short, and though she was beautiful, she couldn’t quite command the attention of the room, even with those expressive eyes. She looked as though she was in over her head and knew it.

Seraphina cleared her throat in hopes to get everyone’s attention. Madison wondered if the woman didn’t already know that her audience had been waiting for her, waiting to find out the outcome of just what their fate was. If she had considered long and hard about making this decision. If Seraphina had the choice to make the decision at all. Maybe Ken wanted the team sold on the date of his death.

“H-Hello.”

Like climbing onto the stool, Seraphina’s voice, while clear, stumbled. But, as with the first time, she managed to pick herself up and continue on as though nothing had happened.

“My name is Seraphina Hanson, Ken’s youngest granddaughter,” she began. “While I’m sure some of you have met my older sister Katella” – here, the players around Matt nudge him and chuckle – “I’m disappointed to say that I don’t know any of you, and besides the familial relations I had with the owner, you probably don’t really know me either.”

It was difficult for her to speak. Seraphina’s voice got tight and the blue in her eyes seemed to overtake the gold.

“My grandfather loved hockey. He formed this team with many he had earned and maintained it until his dying day. This was his dream. He loved the team.” Her eyes, staring just above the heads of the players and at the peeling beige wall, now began to look directly at the players. “He loved each and every one of you. He respected each and every one of you. He would tell me that he enjoyed talking to you one-on-one about your family and your goals, and in his own small way, wanted to help you achieve those goals, whether they were hockey-related or not. He wanted you to feel like this was a family, that each of your teammates were your brother, the coaches were father-figures you could go to.

“I’m not going to lie to you and say that I’ve seen his influence on your interactions. However, it seems that you’re all comfortable with giving Matt shit about dating my older sister directly in front of me which, I guess, is a good thing.” A couple players chuckled at her observation. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I’ve watched you play, that I know what your weaknesses and strengths are. I don’t have any ideas for how to improve the team. I don’t know the sorts of things that inspire loyalty in people and therefore can’t guarantee that you’ll all become or remain loyal to this team.

“But I’m open-minded.”

The entire speech shifted, and though it didn’t retain that casual air from seconds before.

“I’m here to listen because I want you to have the best time of your life on this team,” Seraphina continued. “There’s no way I could ever replace my grandfather so I’m not going to try. But what I plan to do is maintain the integrity and class of this team. I plan to take your suggestions and your problems, your complaints and praises seriously, and address them as need be. I want you – and this includes everyone, from the equipment people to the Gulls Girls – to feel comfortable coming to me about any issue you might be going through, whether it has to do with the team or not.”

She paused, maybe to catch her breath or to quickly think about what she wanted to say.

“I know I’m young,” Seraphina said. “Look at me; I know I don’t look like the type of girl many of you would take seriously. But I am. I know I’m inexperienced. But I’m a fast-learned and open to constructive criticism.

“I’m here to represent you all to the best of my abilities. I want to keep this family together, despite the hurdles that will no doubt come with such a decision. I want to keep my grandfather’s dream alive, and I hope to keep yours alive as well.” She stopped, and a small smile touched her face, almost as though to say she was satisfied with everything she had said. “Any questions?”

“Yeah.” Seraphina turned to a player she recognized as Kyle Underwood, his strawberry blond hair darker due to the gel he used in order to spike the front of his hair up and out of his face. “I’m Kyle Underwood. I play left forward for the first line. So, just so we’re clear, you’re not selling the team?”

“No,” Seraphina said, and even she felt a sigh of relief escape her lips. “I will step up as owner and manager of the Gulls, and while I retain that position, the team will not be sold.”

“I have one.”

This time, it was Alec Schumacher who had spoken. The ladies’ man. Nearly every Gulls Girl had told Katella something relating to Alec’s charming tendencies. Interestingly enough, some were almost admiring while others were bitter. Technically, Gulls Girls and players weren’t supposed to socialize outside of hockey environments, but such a rule never stopped people before. If anything, it encouraged people to sneak around just for the thrill of it.

“My name’s Alec Schumacher. Right wing for the first line,” he said. “No offense, but can you handle running and managing a hockey team? You’re young and you’ve even admitted to not knowing what you’re getting into. You won’t be taken seriously.”

People started murmuring to themselves, to each other.

“My whole life, I’ve never been taken seriously,” Seraphina said with a firm voice. “I have blonde hair and big boobs and come from money. That’s all people see when they look at me.” There was more laughing and more surprised looks on their faces that the young woman was so blunt about her appearance despite its truth. “I’m not an idiot, Mr. Schumacher. But here’s the thing: I played soccer seven years of my life, and people were surprised when I was a sweeper rather than a forward. Just because I was – am – tiny, didn’t mean I was fast, but I could definitely clear a soccer ball. People thought I got C’s in school due to my bubbly personality, but, in fact, I graduated with a 4.0 and received a partial scholarship to UCI. The scholarship was called the Regent’s scholarship and it’s one the most prestigious scholarship a UC can give to a student. And you’re right. I don’t know anything about hockey. But, like I said, I can learn and learn fast. To answer your question, I don’t know if I can handle doing two jobs that I’m completely unfamiliar with, but I’m willing to try.

“If, in fact, you’re more worried about how other teams will treat you, will not take you seriously, that’s on you.” Her sunset eyes were looking fiercely at Alec, the gold now almost overpowering the blue. “You aren’t an individual when you’re on this team, Mr. Schumacher. You’re one part of a cohesive unit. You can’t not know that even with my grandfather as the owner, this team wasn’t taken seriously by the league. Look at our mascot. Look at where we’re from. If you want to be taken seriously, play to the best of your abilities. I don’t care if I’m the owner of the team or if a white, middle aged male with every fact about hockey tucked away in his head is owner. Play better and people will forget about flaws to attack us with. Because all that really matters is what goes on when you’re on the ice.”

“Any other questions?” Seraphina asked, her eyes skimming across her audience, patiently waiting for someone to speak up. When she concluded that no, there were no more questions, her eyes narrowed directly at a player Katella had familiarized her with before. “Brandon Thorpe, I’d like to speak to you in my gr – my office please. Right now.”

Players around Brandon nudged him and laughed. Some even “oooohed’ like they were back in elementary school. All Seraphina could focus on was the tremor in her voice when she stumbled, once again, over the appropriate word. It wasn’t her grandfather’s office anymore. It was hers. And though her voice remained firm throughout the rest of the request, and she could feel the sadness that started to crawl back into her eyes.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Not when there was a meeting to attend and a player to officially come face-to-face with.

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