Page 12 of His Jersey

Word on the ice has it that a certain Carolina Storm center has been spending too much time starring as the life of the party rather than sharpening his stick.

At the last game against the Reno Rebels, the bad boy billionaire nearly collided with the ref, but then scored a garbage goal. At least, that’s what the fans said amidst contention about whether he belonged in the penalty box. We won't get involved in that melee. Just reporting the facts. Known for his charm and charisma, that didn’t help when he and his own teammate took to blows during second period.

Typically, @JackBouchelleOfficial hits the headlines hard with a new socialite, model, actress, or singer every week, however, rumor has it his tycoon father is trying to tie him down with an arranged marriage to a Hungarian duchess.

Have they been rendezvousing at one of the famed luxurious Bouchelle properties? Upon his most recent return from atropical getaway, he had a big smile on his face. Then again that was a year ago, and he’s been on a solid downward spiral with inconsistent play ever since. #FrowningFans

Maybe there’s trouble in paradise. Will the duchess reign supreme over the family empire, wresting Jack from his wobbling love affair with hockey or will @QueenAston, Allain Bouchelle’s new wife, keep the crown?

We’d like to see this top hockey talent pull it together, quit messing around, and dazzle us with his dedication to scoring goals instead of playing the field. Comment below with what you think is going on with the Storm center.

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@WriterOnTheStorm: Bouchelle is too old. Washed up. Time for new blood.

@NumberTenFanNumberOne: Talk about him like that and there will bloodshed.

@HockeyAddict764: Want to talk about getting old? This account is getting old. I’m tired of hearing about player drama. Stick to the game. #overit

@TiffOnFleek: What I don’t understand is why @QueenAston married the dad. The guy is like a thousand. He doesn’t have social so I can’t tag him. She could’ve hooked up with @JackBouchelleOfficial. At least he’s her age.

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6

JACK

By the timeI reach the private airport, my stomach feels like I drank a gallon of bad gas station coffee as reality snakes its way back. The future is like ice splitting in a pond, heading directly my way.

As I emerge from the SUV, a slim and dark figure rushes toward me. Pieces of long red hair cascade from a black beanie as she pulls it off. “Jackie, Jackie, it’s me, Cassandra.”

I look at her blankly, wondering if I should hire a bodyguard, not that anyone has the bad sense to mess with me, but the fans are getting a little wild. The airstrip is a restricted area.

“It’s me, Cass, remember? We went to the Melted Candle for dinner.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You melted me afterward.”

Breezing past her comment, my concern isn’t only because she’s on private property—unless she works for air traffic control—but that her sweatshirt is moving. Like shifting and wiggling.

Nodding slowly as a scene from a space alien movie comes to mind, I gesture over my shoulder. “I have a plane to?—”

“Jackie, I brought you something.” She lowers the zipper on her hoodie and produces …

I tilt my head because I was not expecting a dog.

“Remember, you told me all about how you went to the animal shelter and love rescues and wanted a dog so badly?”

Vaguely? I generally like dogs, so it sounds like something I may have said.

“I got you one from the pound. He didn’t have a home, so I thought you could give him one. Well, and me. Like we could be a family. Isn’t he adorable? I named him Jackie after you.”

First of all, I hate it when anyone tries to call me Jackie. Second of all, I cannot have a dog named after me. Thirdly, this is absolutely absurd.

She coos, “Don’t you love Jackie, Jackie?”

“You can’t name a dog Jackie.”

She pouts. “Fine. How about Mark? That’s what they called him at the pound. Or it may have been the security guard’s name, but?—”

My mouth falls open. “You stole the dog?”

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