Page 51 of Easton

But now is not the time for these thoughts to be invading my head. We’re in the middle of the first of three away games—this one is against the Los Angeles Kings—for fuck’s sake.

Shane, nudging my shoulder, says, “Dude, come on. Get with it. We’re up.”

Shit, we sure are.

I hop over the boards with my linemates, making the switch just in time for me to intercept the puck at the blue line.

I skate the other way into the opponent’s zone, with mylinemates trailing me.

We get set up pretty quickly and begin passing the puck around like a finely oiled machine—me to Lennox, Lennox to Shane, then up to a defenseman, and then back to me.

I’m to the left of the net, but Shane is right in front of it. He’s jockeying for position with one of the Kings’ bigger players.

Shane looks to be winning that battle, so I take a chance and pass the puck to him.

He gets it, shoots, and scores.

Yes!

We’re now up 4-1, and there are only a few minutes left in the third and final period.

We lock down defensively and win the game.

The locker room is fun and upbeat. Everyone is in a good mood. A bunch of the guys want to go out to a local club. They ask me to join them and let me know there’s a private party room in the back where we can hang and not be bothered.

I generally don’t attend these types of outings, but I’m in such a great mood that I say yes. Lennox and Shane are going, too, so it should be a fun time.

A couple of hours later, I’m proven right. My teammates and I are in that back room, playing cards, shooting pool, and listening to the music streaming in from out in the main club area.

We’re all unwinding after a fantastic game.

I play a few rounds of poker and come away with a couple hundred bucks. It’s all in good fun. I’m sure I’ll lose it the next card game, probably the one we’ll inevitably play on the flight to Seattle, the next city we’re going to.

It’s getting late, and we’ll be heading back to the hotel soon, so when I see Lennox seated on a sofa in the rear of the room just relaxing, I stride over to hang with him.

Only problem is, as soon as I sit my ass down, some long-legged blonde in a blaring-red micro dress, who looks beyond tipsy, bumbles her way over and plops down on Lennox’s lap.

“I wondered where you’d gone,” she whines to him. “You left me out on the dance floor all alone.”

Some of the guys have ventured out to the main part of the club to dance and mingle. I guess Lennox was out there while I was playing cards. Someone must’ve seen them together to have let her back here. Or maybe her drunken ass just snuck past the young employee manning the door. He has been on his phone a lot.

Lennox, placing a hand on her bare thigh in a placating manner, says, “Aw, baby, I didn’t mean to do you like that. But the guys and I have to leave soon.” He gives her a boyish shrug. “I can’t miss my ride back to the hotel, you know?”

It’s true, we will be taking off soon. We all took the hotel shuttle over and arranged for the driver to come back and get us by 1:00 a.m., which is in about fifteen minutes.

“I have an Uber coming,” she counters in somewhat slurred words. “You could always just come home with me. I can drive you back to your hotel in the morning.”

For as much as Lennox can be a player, I know he’d never take advantage of a girl who clearly has had too much to drink. I mean, the dude does havesomemorals.

“Not tonight,” he tells her, patting her leg. “In fact, I think you should get up. Your Uber is probably waiting outside for you.”

“Yeah.” She sighs as she slides off his lap to the spot on the sofa in between us. “You’re probably right.”

I try to scoot farther away, and that’s when she takes notice of me.

“Heyyy,” she says, closing the small gap between us. “What about you? You’re cute. What are you doing tonight?”

Uh-oh, we clearly have a puck bunny on our hands…and a drunken one at that.

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