Page 89 of The Tape Job
“Right, right, that’s enough,” the ref says, trying to control the situation. But as soon as Bettsy relaxes his grip, he gets a fist to the face which knocks him straight on his ass.
I help him to his feet and skate him over to the penalty box, but he’s shouting back over his shoulder. “What the fuck is your problem? That was a dirty check!”
“Have a word with him,” the ref tells me, since Johnny’s not on the ice. “His temper is leaving a lot to be desired but it’s two for roughing since I’m feeling generous.”
I nod. “You need to calm down, bud. What’s going on with you?”
“It was just a dirty check.” He sits down as the penalty box door slams shut.
“You’ve never reacted that way before,” I say.
He shrugs. “I guess I’m in the mood for a fight.”
Before I skate off, I make eye contact with Vicky who peeks around her camera. She’s standing directly to the right of the away penalty box with my old Marlies toque pulled over her head. She looks fucking cute, so I wink at her, and I’m almost certain I see her cheeks flush pink.
I have had little time to speak with her today. We had morning skate, then a team brunch, then Coach had us watching previous games. By the time we were released to rest up, Vicky was busy prepping for tonight and building up the hype on socials. I caught her briefly before warmups, but there were too many listening ears to have a proper conversation.
I thought she would have mentioned the note I left her—but nothing. Now I’m left wondering if I made a huge mistake, but a little voice in my head tells me that Vicky would have definitely made a point of telling me where to stick it if it was the wrong move.
I skate back to the bench, swinging my legs over the boards, and I sit down next to Ryan.
“Are you going to tell me where you slept last night?” he asks, popping his mouthguard out.
“I think I prefer Johnny and Bettsy as a pair,” I say, ignoring his question.
“I’ve been thinking about asking you all day, but I figured you’d tell me if you had anything to share.”
“Nothing happened,” I say, knowing that he absolutely knows exactly where I was last night. “I had snoring neighbours. I thought I was knocking on Danny’s door to sleep on his couch, but … well, you know.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Play starts again. I lean forward and rest my stick against the boards. I lock my eyes on Danny’s position to the left of the face-off, pretending Ryan’s question isn’t hanging in the air. “Lee?” he nudges my arm, but I focus forward.
We win the draw, and the puck slides back towards Danny who receives it and sends it across to Hutch before powering towards the offensive zone. Ryan and I switch with Hutch and Danny and enter the play in the neutral zone. I poke the puck away from an opposing forward and it has enough momentum to land on the blade of Jani’s stick who fires it in Ryan’s direction.
My eyes follow Ryan’s movement, and I can tell he’s going to line up a pass to me as soon as he’s passed the blue line. We’re faster than the opposition forwards, and I can hear Johnny who’s now standing at the point calling for a pass. I sail the puck back to him, and he one-times it into the top left of the net. There’s only a small cheer from our fans, since the away section is tiny and not everyone makes the trip, but every goal should be celebrated. We gather around Johnny then skate back in a single line to bump hands with the rest of the guys and return to centre ice for the face-off.
Leaning down, I risk a quick glance over to the boards and spot Vicky. Knowing that she’s watching me intently makes me want to show-off a little—which is odd considering I know she’s technically always watching me. Has something shifted between us? Maybe it has for me. The ref gives us a heads-up and drops the puck. I win and flick it to my left where Ryan’s waiting. As I skate backwards, I make a bit of a show by doing some fancy footwork, playing on Vicky’s attention. I feel like I’m back in juniors again, but I’m focused. When Jani receives a pass from Ryan, taking us into the offensive zone, I’m ready. I skate to his right and accept a saucer pass that sails nicely over the stick of an opposing forward. I flick it towards Ryan, who’s placedhimself just outside the tendy’s crease. He’s waiting, but there’s a scramble. A rebound opportunity comes my way, so I bat the puck mid-air as it sails towards me, down into the net on the blocker side.
I skate around the edge of the ice, then sink down onto one knee. Locking eyes with Vicky, who definitely mouths something that looks suspiciously like ‘show-off’.
“Nice work,” Ryan says after we sit back down on the bench. “If showing off is going to score us goals like that, keep doing it.”
I thought that would be the last he’d mention of my situation with Vicky, but he doesn’t waste any time when we’re alone in the showers after the game.
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” he says from the next stall.
“I told you, nothing happened.”
“I’ve seen the way you’re looking at her.”
“Nah,” I shake it off.
“Look, Johnny and I have been talking,” he stops the water and grabs his towel. “You guys seem to do much better as friends.”
“I’m sorry for my bluntness, but you’ve never really seen how good we are together. You both buried your heads in the sand like it wasn’t happening.”
“But we saw the drama and the headache it caused. According to Johnny, Vicky was a mess when she called off the wedding, so it sounds like you both need to take a step back.” He pauses and clicks his tongue. “And I’m not trying to be a dick, but it seems like she treats you like crap.”
“You don’t know the full story!” I yell.
