Page 99 of The Import Slot
“The night out she was trying it on with Prez?” Hutch says.
She only tried once, and I shut her down quickly.
“I’m not going to do it again,” Bettsy says.
“Hey, I’d usually say it’s none of our business, but the last thing we need is that Rodgers fella out for blood, and after she was telling everyone you’re gay?” Danny adds.
“I know, I know.”
“What the hell is the holdup?” Coach pushes his way to the front and leans over the boards. He shouts something, and then someone skids over.
“Right, five minutes, boys, there’s been a problem with the Zam.”
There’s a collective groan, and a few guys start stretching; a few more start play fighting like kids.
“How did it go this morning?” Johnny says, standing next to me.
Shit, does Johnny know about the pregnancy? I can’t be sure, and I don’t want to be the one to tell him if he doesn’t.
“Yeah, fine,” I say.
We’re watching a few arena staff making their way around the seats, putting towels out for the game this weekend. Some charity merchandise with our logo on them.
It won’t take them long; seeing this rink at full capacity at around five thousand is a different world from what I’m used to, but the crowds are loud and proud. It’s like Leafs Nation here, selling out each game and there’s a season ticket waiting list. I can see why Jen didn’t want to surrender hers.
As soon as we step onto the ice, Coach beckons me over. He’s holding his clipboard and the assistant coach, Springy, is whispering in his ear.
“Preston. How’re you feeling about your line? Honest answers only.”
Shit, I was wondering if this would come up, and I definitely do need to be honest if I want to make a positive change. My current set-up is with McCoy and Heikkinen, and I’m struggling to bring my pace back to meet theirs.
“A faster skater like Hutch would be more fitting for me,” I say honestly.
After I’ve said it, I realise I could do better than that.
“Actually, can you leave me with Scottsy for now? I’ll see if we can get together for some extra ice time and work on some things.”
They talk amongst themselves for a bit and then agree on the premise that Hutch works reasonably well where he is already.
“Check the rota for the ice, and I’ll approve whatever extra time you can get.”
“Yeah, thanks, Coach,” I say and he waves me off.
Hutch is good, but I think Scottsy can be better.
I need to talk to him about what he’s working on in the gym and see how we can improve his speed without me coming across as a douche, telling him what to do.
I skate over to him as usual, and we get started, flicking the puck back and forth between us.
“So, Scottsy, I’ve been trying to get better at coming out of a turn at speed. I’m finding I slow down, and it ruins my momentum.” I lie, but sometimes you got to do what you got to do.
“Yeah, I do the same.” Bingo. “Let’s work on it together. It could do a lot for our offensive opportunities and PK,” Scottsy says, flicking the puck up.
“Yeah, I’ll see about extra ice time. When’s good for you?” We chat about it and I need to run a few things past Coach, but so far, so good. We plan to get in some gym time together too.
Coach spends all practice working on plays, and we’re all fucked as we skate off the ice. Danny is already in the locker room, his skates and practice jersey off.
“I’m knackered,” he says, half lying down. “I want to nap, not go to a bloody suit fitting.”
