Page 10 of Goalie Interference

“Good thing. I was going to offer you my spare room, but no pets allowed, so…”

“I appreciate the offer anyway.”

He glanced over his shoulder. We were almost the last two in the room. “I gotta get going, but what’s your phone number? We’ll have to catch up.”

I was happy to give it to him. Seeing a friendly face had given me much better vibes about the team and finding my position on it. He headed for medical, and I followed the signs to the ice. Time to meet the other goalies.

Four guys were standing near the gate, watching the photo setup. There was a net at the end of the rink, with team jerseys and sticks piled up. I stepped onto a carpeted walkway that had been laid out over the ice and joined the others.

I recognized Keaton Constantine. We’d played against each other on occasion. Keats and I up-nodded. The other three guys were younger. I thought I recognized the largest guy as being the most recent draft pick by the Aces, a goalie taken later in the first round.

“They haven’t given us anything to do yet?” I asked. Heads shook in the negative all around.

For a few more minutes we watched the crew work on their cameras and lights and check out their tablets. I heard the gate again, and recognized the man coming out. Otts. Coach Oliver Trent. The guy in charge of my future on the Aces. I clenched my fists.

We’d been rivals since World Juniors, when I’d shut out his American team in the gold medal match. I was drafted before Otts as a result of that series and beat him in the Calder Cup final. Otts had a Cup win and a Vezina, so he’d definitely surpassed me in the NHL, but he never got over those early victories of mine. He’d been injured a few years ago and was forced to retire, so I hadn’t seen him in a long time. But the expression on his face when he saw me? He still didn’t like me. So why the hell was I here?

He nodded at us, then walked past till he could speak to someone in the camera crew. After a brief chat, he returned to us.

“They’re almost ready. You guys introduce yourselves?”

We exchanged looks and shook our heads.

“I know Remy,” Keats said.

Otts smiled politely. “Okay, I’ve talked to all of you except for…Remy, since he’s just arrived. Keaton Constantine, Jacques Laplante, Lars Nillson and Walter Jones.”

Laplante frowned. “And Remy?”

“Daniel Rempel.” I smiled at Laplante and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Laplante paused before gripping my hand and then quickly dropping it. I was not popular in the goalie sector here.

A signal from the camera crew, and Otts waved toward them. “They’re ready for you now.”

One by one we pulled on an Aces jersey and posed, by the net and in front of a screen for headshots. Damn, I wished I’d had a chance to do something with my hair. At least the beard was under control after a summer of neglect, but I preferred to be clean-shaven during the season. We made small talk with each other while we waited for our turns. Keats told me that the team’s regular starting goalie had retired quite recently because one of his kids was sick and he wanted to spend time with his family. He was thirty-five, getting old for a hockey player. Keats had been his backup and wasn’t sure if he was moving up to starter now. He tipped his head at Laplante, who we’d already started to call Lappy, so presumably the team was grooming him to be a starter.

“What’s your role gonna be?” Keats asked.

I shrugged. I’d been a backup for the past three years, so I didn’t think they’d signed me to replace their starter. Maybe one of the other rookies was moving up.

Then we left the ice to get our medicals, waiting for the last of the forwards to finish up. I waved at Hanny again and nodded at a couple of other guys I’d played with over the years. After medical we had the joy of fitness testing and then returned to the ice for the group photos.

We’d all had individual and position group photos, so now we sprawled on the ice for a big team photo. They would take another once the final roster was set, but right now it was a group of possibilities. Everyone had hope. Some had more nerves than optimism, but for this moment in time, every one of us could be an Ace.

As we headed to the cafeteria for a meal, my phone rang. I checked and saw Benny’s name. There were some other messages, but I picked up the call to see what he needed first. He was talking before I had a chance to sayYoagain, to rile him up.

“They just delivered your hellhound to wherever you’re staying.”

“What?”

“You’d better get your ass over there before he eats someone.”

He hung up before I could respond. Beast wouldn’t eat someone, but he would bite. He wasn’t trustworthy. It was a fear thing—he’d been feral and injured and in danger of dying when I spotted him by a dumpster. I still didn’t know why I’d decided to complicate my vacation by claiming him.

He was better, but still too likely to bite first and bark later.Shit. If the instructions about him hadn’t been passed on, if he bit someone, what kind of trouble could he be in? I didn’t know the rules about dog bites in Texas.

Hanny ran a hand through his black hair. His was long too. “Problem?”

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