Page 3 of His Jersey

Making my presence known, I announce, “Thirty is not old. Plus, I’m three months younger than you, Gunther.”

There’s a moment of shared sheepishness as they collectively calculate how much I overheard.

“Yeah, my shots were shoddy, my transitions lacked, and the assist to Clemmons during second period was poor. But I can’t think of any good reason why that may have been thecase.” I let out a sigh that points to the harrowing week I’ve had, but I instantly regret it because I never make excuses. It would also help if we played like a team and not a bunch of “Look at me” wannabe hockey heroes.

Cole juts his chin. “Well, Remy did say he wants to see you.”

Gunther adds, “Seems, uh ...” he trails off, leaving me to wonder.

They’re retaliating because I called them out on talking about me behind my back. But is that all? My contract is up for renewal. It shouldn’t put me on edge, so why has my stomach been in knots since the stunt driver almost hit me with the car?

My phone beeps with a message from my father’s assistant. He wants me to meet him for dinner. No doubt he’s ready to punish me for bailing on the New Year Celebration of Rising Stars in the Trust Coalition event. Aston, his new wife, is also probably ticked because she recently asked me to call herMommy. She’s my age. I refused. She’s probably still having a tantrum.

I delete the message. If only erasing this week were that easy.

2

ELLA

I feellike I got mugged by a scrappy band of raccoons.

To a person who grew up in a place with harsh winters, a tropical escape is enticing. The annual dream. When the world is dreary and gray, social media and television teasers with white sand beaches, the warm glowing sun, and lounging by turquoise water triple the allure.

That’s well and good when on vacation for a week.

In real life, the part that is slightly out of frame is that the humidity is brutal on both hair and skin, making my body feel like an oil slick. The bugs have a mob hit out on all life forms, especially humans, and if you don’t get out of the wind’s way, it’ll give you a gale-force shove to the other side of the island.

Found out all of that the hard way.

On the bright side, my bronze glow game is strong. People pay big bucks for my all-natural highlights, thanks to the sun. But that’s where the bonuses of being literally stranded on a tropical island end.

After being ditched by the guy I thought was my billionaire boyfriend-to-be, my pity party lasted exactly as long as it tookme to consume a nineteen-dollar bag of gourmet caramel popcorn. Resort prices, I tell ya.

But there are worse places to be stranded. At least I have a job. But, believe it or not, life in the air-conditioned haven of a luxury resort comes with its own problems.

I push my cart down the wide hall. Edwina glides toward me. She’s an ally, but I’ve learned to watch my back. Stories abound about employees doing each other dirty. One front desk worker hid cooked crab legs under the bed of an available room to try to get a housekeeper in trouble with management.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she says in her accented voice that reminds me of birdsong.

“Hi, Edwina. Did you hit the jackpot last night?”

This is the standard opening to our daily dialog.

On cue, in a conspiratorial whisper, she shakes her head slightly and says, “There would be signs.”

“What should I look for?” This is my line.

She taps her chin. “A safari hat. You?”

We give each other hints about how we’d spend our winnings. They get more outrageous by the day.

I wouldn’t win the lottery because I don’t play, but I answer anyway. “One of those Formula One race car driver suits.”

Her laugh is louder than usual. “I kid you not; I found a bright yellow jumpsuit or whatever it’s called and a helmet in room two-oh-nine last week. That must mean you won.”

“I wish.” My life has proven to be one big series of losses.

She smiles warmly. “Someday, your Prince Charming will come, sweep you off your feet, and you’ll have your happily ever after.”

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