Page 23 of Hockey Heart

“You too, Sarah.”

For a moment, we stood there looking at each other. There was a discussion going on between us that neither of us could fully understand. It wasn’t with words, it was something deeper. Some universal vibrations passing between us both, our most animal of instincts assessing each other as either a potential mate or a threat. The verdict was still unclear.

“Bye,” Maiden said, breakingwhatever-the-hell-that-wasup.

“Bye,” I said, blushing at the strange feelings I felt rushing in my blood.

13

THE APOLOGY

Hayden

“Jeez,” I whistled as I drove up to the Locklear’s house.Housewas too small a word. It was like driving up to the goddamn state capitol as we cruised up the driveway and past the perfectly manicured lawns.

“Let me do the talking, okay Champ?”

Maiden nodded his agreement from the backseat, looking uncomfortable at the boastful surroundings. We reached the entrance and, just as I slowed down, we were suddenly greeted by two wild, mean-looking rottweilers from hell, hurtling out of the house in full attack mode.

“Christ!” I yelled, veering manically away from the snapping, snarling jaws that flew at my window, taking my truck straight into the side of a parked red Porche. The awful sound of scraping metal made me wince as the hate-crazed beasts pounced and smeared the window with teeth and drool, showing me their meanest side.

“Jethro! Denver! Get here!” came the yell from a red-faced, plump, and enraged man who followed through the same door that the terror dogs had come from.

Jethro and Denver looked disappointed as they reluctantly stopped their assault on the unknown vehicle and trotted sheepishly back toward their owner.

“My fucking car!” The angry potato screamed, holding his hands to his head and pulling at where his hair would’ve been, if he had any.

Fuck.This had not started well.

Climbing out of the truck, I looked down at the red-faced figure in front of me and his expression softened in surprise.

“Hayden Raynor?” He asked.

I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. “Er, sure is. Mr. Locklear?”

“That’s right,” he said, gawping at me like I’d just levitated in front of him.

“Damn, I’m real sorry about that,” I told him, looking uncomfortably at the tangled mess of cars. “Your dogs came out at me like a wild one. I’ll, er, get that fixed.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, come on in!” He’d remarkably cheered up now and didn’t seem that concerned by the fact my truck was chomping into his Porsche, exactly like his dogs had wanted to do with my leg.

Maiden and I followed the blob into the inner-sanctum of his palace, walking through a reception room of garish old paintings, with wide, opulent staircases running up either side of the hallway. Then, we were led out onto a sun-soaked terrace, where we found a group of middle-aged people lounging lazily, while screeching kids ran around an Olympic-sized pool.

“Hey! Look who’s here! Hayden fucking Raynor!” That’s how Locklear introduced me to his gin-soaked audience.The oldest of them, perhaps Locklear’s mother at a guess, didn’t even turn her head, but just sighed. She looked like old money and unimpressed by everything. Meanwhile, a guy in a sports cap (Wildcats, I meanreally?) got up awkwardly, nearly fell back down, reclaimed his balance, and then came over, beaming.

“Jesus, you’re massive!”

I nodded back at him. “Er, thanks?”

“Hey, you know Randall Jackson, right?”

The Randall Jackson who plays on my team? I mean, I might.

“Yeah, sure I know Randall.”

“I heard…It’smassive.”

I frowned back at his shining eyes. Was he really asking me, a man he’d just met for the first time, the size of Randall’s cock? The fact he was still staring eagerly and wobbling in front of me as he waited for my answer, told me he actually was.

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