Page 10 of The Import Slot
“Prez?” Johnny nudges me, tapping the notepad, but my interest is now on the conversation going on around me.
“What was that about?” Jani asks, nodding to the bag Danny discarded.
“Jen had to fix my laptop again,” he says sheepishly.
“Not that porn again?” Bettsy asks. “I’ve given you a list of the free sites, mate.”
Danny says nothing as he sits back down on the sofa.
“Jen was asking about our last import slot again. The press release is tomorrow; she can find out at the same time as everyone else.” Danny glances over at me. “She’ll be buzzing. Jen is a massive NHL fan. She might already have your poster on her bedroom wall,” he wiggles his eyebrows at me and laughs. I’m sure she said something about being a Senators fan, so I doubt it, but a guy can dream. I bite anyway, mainly for an excuse to keep the conversation on Jen.
“Is she a Jets fan?” I ask, knowing full well that she is not.
“Nah, she’s a Sens fan. Sens or nothing. If she has your poster, it’ll be over her dartboard.” Everyone laughs, but all I can manage is a snicker. “Honestly, though, she’s a huge hockey fan. Probably knows the sport better than I do.”
“She’s not a bunny, though,” Bettsy frowns. “I’ve tried. She’s not interested.”
“What do you mean you’ve tried?” Danny’s face reddens.
“Well, I just asked her if she wanted a drink. She asked who else was going, and when I said it was just me, she said no,” Bettsy admits.
“Oh,” Danny says. “She’s smart, see, Betts. She knows a wanker when she sees one.”
Johnny clears his throat and tries again with the notepad, but no one is interested, myself included. I’m already distracted, and I’ve just got here.
“Can we just leave it for tonight, Cap? Give us a break,” one guy says.
“You’ve had all summer!” Johnny adds, but it’s on deaf ears.
“C’mon Cap, enough talk of hockey,” Hutch adds, standing up and making his way to the TV. “Anyone up for some Chel?”
“Only if I can be the Jets,” Danny says, elbowing me in the ribs. A wave of sadness ripples through me.
“Well, I’m not a Jet anymore, so knock yourself out.” My tone is almost bitter, even though I try to rein it in.
We play for a few hours, taking turns, and I enjoy the company of my new teammates and getting to know their sense of humour. Eventually, they file out individually, leaving the tidying up to Danny and me.
“Hey, do you have any flooring tiles for stick drills?” I ask Danny, but given the look on his face, he doesn’t. “Right, mind if I get some?” Having synthetic ice tiles for the floor means I can practise stick handling when I get a few spare moments.
“Knock yourself out. I’m off to bed. See you at seven for a run.”
He wanders off, and I get myself ready for bed. I should sleep okay tonight since I’ve blacked out my windows, and my body clock has caught up. All those years of flying around different time zones have served me well, but I need to call my dad, having used the time in the coffee place to call my brother.
My dad picks up on the second ring.
“How’s your game?” he asks, with no pleasantries.
“I haven’t even had a practice yet,” I say, “but I’m great, thanks.”
“You know what I mean. Remember, focus. Let me deal with your brother.”
“What’s going on with him?” I ask.
“He needs a kick up the ass,” Dad answers bluntly. “If he doesn’t make it this season, I’ll hold him fully responsible for your failed career.” His words cut into me, but I hold my own, ensuring I give him enough chat back, so he knows I’m in control. Every opportunity he gets to ride my ass about my game, he’ll do it.
By the time I’ve finished talking to him, my mood has plummeted.
I lie in bed struggling to sleep, and my mind drifts to Jen. I grab the book I bought today and make a start, but my focus flicks back to Jen. I’m struggling to concentrate. Something about her has pulled me in, and I can’t understand it because this has never happened to me before. I’ve never felt such an attraction to someone straight off the block.
