Page 7 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

“But Lafreniére isn’t married.”

“He got married yesterday to his long-time sweetheart – whom no one has ever heard of, so I think he did it to land this contract…”

“Oh my gosh.”

“That was my thoughts too – and the word on the streets is that he’s not alone. Jett Acton just did the same thing, and Kenneth Salas.”

“Holy Cannoli – those are some big names.”

“They want the Stanley Cup… this year.”

“I’m in,” he said hoarsely. “I’m in, Fallon. Sign me up, tell me what you need, and where I need to go…”

“Perfect. I’ll send the contract over, some houses in the area that I think you’ll like, and I will make the deal as soon as yousend over a scanned copy of your marriage license. They will need it for the contract. Do you want me to try negotiating for more money or anything?”

“You said seven figures?”

“Yes – and an endorsement.”

“Nope,” he chuckled. “I’ll take it.”

“Perfect – we’ll chat soon,” Fallon said happily. “Oh – and keep this to yourself for now until they are breaking the news, my little green bean. I don’t want them cutting you before I’ve got you squared up. Trust your little Fallon to take care of you.”

“I do – and thank you.”

Hanging up the phone, Matthieu smiled and leaned his head back against the headrest feeling such relief in his soul. This was going to be great. He had heard such good things about the other goalie, and some of the names Fallon was rattling off were known in the community for being excellent players – plus both Salas and Acton had a reputation. Once they took you under their wing, then you were part oftheirgroup. He wouldn’t be on the outside, the young kid trying to fit in, and he would be starting…

His eyes shot open.

“Oh no…” he whispered, remembering what he’d said. “I told her I was married, so she didn’t get all weird – but that was the clause in the contract. I’ve gotta find someone to marry me, and I don’t want to get married.”

He immediately called Fallon back.

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind already?” she answered pointedly. “I just accepted the contract verbally, and the ball is already rolling. Their attorneys are on top of things, and with the first game in a month, we are moving like mad.”

“Oh…eh, um… I was going to ask how fast we knew this was a sure deal, because I’d like to start training and practicing with Lafreniére as soon as possible – and it’s going to takeme a few days to get my marriage license out ofstorage,” he fibbed, hoping that it worked. “We put it in a box in storage for safe keeping because we’ve been talking about getting a house instead of the apartment and well…”

“Days? No, that won’t work,” Fallon said openly. “I’ll call them back, and you can give them a copy when you show up in Quebec.”

“Oh. Wow. Quebec? I didn’t even ask where I was going…”

“Yep. New team, new location and you’ll love it. Does your wife have a passport?”

“Yeah,” he said weakly, his mind racing. Who did he know that could pull this off and bail his butt out of this problem.

“I need to get this taken care of,” Fallon said simply, reassuring him. “Hang onto your hat and break the news to your honey tonight. I’m betting we announce it in the next day or so because they are moving quickly, and with the season starting soon, they’ll want to hit it hard and heavy with some long practices or such… whatever you hockey boys do, you know?”

“Yup,” he said weakly. “Us hockey guys and our wives…”

“Congratulations, sweetie! I’m so excited for you.”

“Me too,” and he couldn’t help but notice how less enthusiastic he was than his agent. Ending the call once more, his stomach gave a hard rumble, and he looked up at the diner again. He needed to eat something… just so he could throw it up later when the panic attack hit him right between the eyes.

Ten minutes later, Matthieu’s entire life was changing and careening wildly out of control. He was now staring at a stranger, saying things he neverimagined. The woman driving his car was in a state of sheer panic, and he was praying that she didn’t start screaming for the police or something. That was the last thing he needed. They both needed to think, talk, and calm down after the last few minutes… and he was still hungry.

“Pick a place. Drive me to wherever you feel safe or want to go, and let’s talk—because now I think I need your help, too,” he began, trying to keep her from bawling again because tears just made him feel like the biggest heel and he was only trying to help.

He handed her a few napkins from the glovebox as she put the expensive car into reverse.

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