Page 27 of A Scoring Chance

Ah, this is what Scott wants: tickets to the game this weekend. I can’t say that I blame him. Tickets to any of our games are scarce, but when we are playing the Wolverines, it’s next to impossible. If you aren’t a season ticket holder or have an in with someone, you’re shit out of luck.

“Yeah. Each team member gets a few tickets for all our home games right behind the box.” I could just offer him a couple of tickets, but I may have one or two people in mind that I’d much rather give my tickets to. Instead of outright telling him no, I throw him a bone instead. “But you are the president of our affiliated hockey club, right here in my hometown. Just give the public relations office a call. I’m sure they can get you a few tickets for any game you’d like.”

Now I don’t know if this is true, but it seems plausible. The Timberwolves are a great hockey organization and do anything they can for one of their own. Scott isn’t a member of the team, but he is family, whether I like it or not. He might not get seats right behind the bench, but I doubt they’d stick him in the nosebleed section either.

“I never thought of that. Thanks for the info, Coop.” He spins on his heels and heads right out of the gym, no doubt going to see if he can score those tickets.

I stay in the weight room for a few extra minutes, ensuring I stretch thoroughly. The last thing I need is to pull a muscle; that would be just one more excuse for Murphy to not clear me to play. I need to get back on the ice before the end of the season. There is more at stake than just the Stanley Cup this year.

I take a deep breath and put everything out of my mind. I can’t do anything if I’m not cleared to get back on the ice. Pushing to my feet, I stride out of the weight room toward the skate rental window by the snack bar. I hate, and I mean hate,renting skates, but I left the city so quickly after my meeting with Coach and Murphy that I didn’t stop to grab my gear.

Since it’s early in the day, there is no one manning the window. Thank fuck for that. My skin is itching to get on the ice, and stopping to make friendly chit-chat so my mother doesn’t have my hide for being rude wasn’t something I wanted to do. I go through the swinging door and quickly locate my size. Being over six feet, there usually aren’t too many size thirteen skates. The rink chooses to focus on the smaller sizes for the kiddos. Only in your hometown can you guarantee they’d have your size skates, especially when all four Hendrix boys are tall with above-average size feet, as Momma always says.

“I thought you were too good for rentals?”

I spin around at the sound of Alise’s voice, the corner of my mouth pulling up in a smirk. “I am, but I need some time on the ice, and I left my gear in Portland.”

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Alise giggles before spinning on her heels and heading toward the small office the hockey club uses near the back.

“Not fallen, improvising.” I place the skates on the counter before following behind her.

She’s the only person I know who can fill in the blanks about what’s going on with Ramona. I can’t get the image of how panicked Alise looked when she realized she had left Beauty without a word. The panic and fear that something horrible had happened, but what? I want to ask. I want to know why Ramona would panic that badly at someone not saying goodbye; what hasn’t she fully recovered from? I want to know everything.

Alise doesn’t give a shit about what I want to know. If she knows anything, it’s locked away like Fort Knox, never to be shared with anyone unless she’s given specific instructions to do so. I usually love that about her, but right now, I hate it.

“How are things?”

What the fuck am I thinking? Out of all the things to say, I choose that. I’m supposed to be trying to trick Alise into giving me any details about how Ramona is doing.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” Alise giggles, pulling open the office door and motioning for me to enter.

“True, not my finest work.”

“What do you want to know?”

She doesn’t even spare me a glance as she saunters past her desk. The thing is a mess, sticky notes and coffee cups sitting on every available space. As meticulous as she is with her lists and attention to detail, she can’t keep a space clean to save her soul.

“Stop eyeing my desk, mister. I know exactly where everything is if I need it.” She wags her finger at me before plopping down in her chair.

I raise my hands in surrender, not even bothering to respond. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of Alise’s organized chaos. Unlike me, with my need for everything to be in its proper place, perfectly aligned, and in order, she prefers chaos. Oh, wait, not chaos. Controlled mess is how she refers to it.

Not wanting to go right in for the kill, I choose another tactic. “Thanks for sending out that email this morning to the team. I’m sure the parents had a lot of questions about why I wasn’t at the meeting.”

“Nah, no one really cared. I don’t know if you know this or not, but you’re kind of a big deal to everyone around here.”

“Ha, ha, ha. You’re so hilarious.”

“I know. I’ll be here all week.” She grabs her cell off a pile of papers and glances at the screen, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Is that really what you wanted to ask me?”

“You know it isn’t. Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know?”

“No.” She spins around in her chair, her maniacal cackles filling the room before she stops spinning. “I need four ticketsto the Timberwolves exhibition game for tomorrow and not some BS nosebleed seats. Something behind the bench would be perfect, but I’ll settle for the front row near the ice.”

“That’s it?” I shake my head, amused at the length I’d go to get a girl’s phone number. For anyone else, all of Alise’s demands would be hard to accomplish, but between me and Beau, it’s a non-issue.

“Of course not. I also want a tour of the locker room and a meet and greet with some players.”

“Done. As long as you promise to take Beauty and her son to the game with you,” I respond with confidence, pulling out my phone to be ready to enter the number.

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