Page 26 of Icy Pucking Play

"He has an agent."

"He has his mommy making calls. That's not the same thing." Clark straightens his designer tie—always trying too hard, always pushing too far. "I could do big things for him, Evan. Open doors. Make connections."

"The way you've done for all your other clients?" I keep my voice steady, though my hands want to shake. "How many of them are still playing?"

Something ugly flashes across his face, but before he can respond, Sophie materializes at his elbow.

"Mr. Ellis? Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help overhearing—you used to play with the Blades, right?"

Clark's expression shifts instantly to his media smile. "Sure did, sweetheart. Few years before your time, I imagine."

I watch Sophie barely hide a wince at “sweetheart” but her polished smile never wavers.

"Actually," she says brightly, "I was just reviewing some old game footage for background on the Daniels hockey legacy. Your last season was...interesting."

The way she says “interesting” makes Clark's smile slip.

"Lot of penalty minutes that year," she continues innocently. "Especially in that game against Pittsburgh. The one where you got suspended for unsportsmanlike conduct? And then there were those rumors about your post-career dealings with rookie players..." She tilts her head. "I'd love to get your perspective on your approach to player management."

"Another time maybe." Clark straightens his tie again, a nervous habit I remember from our playing days. "Got a meeting across town."

He walks away trying to look unhurried, but I catch the tension in his shoulders.

"So," Sophie says once he's gone, "that's Clark Ellis."

It's not quite a question.

"Sophie…"

"The same Clark Ellis who left the league under a cloud of controversy and now seems very interested in your nephew?" Her eyes are sharp, assessing. "I might be new to this, but even I can spot a shark in a bad tie."

I stare at her. "How did you…"

"I'm good at my job, Evan." She meets my eyes steadily. "I'm also good at knowing what doesn't belong in a story."

The knot in my chest loosens slightly. "The Pittsburgh game?"

"That part's public record. But the way you tensed up when he approached..." She shrugs. "Let's just say I've developed a good radar for people who bring out the Ice Man's ice mode."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Do what? Casually mention his questionable history? Point out that his post-hockey career has been marked by rookies signing bad contracts?" She adjusts her notebook. "Just doing my job. Research is kind of my thing."

"Your job is covering Ryland."

"My job is telling the truth." She glances over to where Ryland is still practicing, thankfully out of earshot.

I'm saved from having to respond when Ryland skates over.

"Sophie! Did you get the shots you needed? Uncle Evan's been helping me with this new move. Want to see?"

"Actually," I cut in, "practice is done for today."

"What? But we just started…"

"Hit the showers, kid. We'll pick this up tomorrow."

He looks between Sophie and me, then at Clark's retreating figure. He's not stupid—he can feel the tension in the air.

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