Page 176 of Call the Shots
“I’m the equipment manager?—”
A woman with her hair cropped to her ears gave me a brisk handshake. “Director of operations, nice to meet you?—”
I was overwhelmed by people swarming into our arena. The Colo wasn’tswarmed,ever. More people poured through, more handshakes, until the doors opened wide once again for our big reveal.
Anthony Sémajuste.
“Holy crap,” Montoya whispered.
Surrounded by his assistants, Sémajuste arrived in a professional navy suit, a pair of sleek glasses over his nose. He’d gained a paunchy physique since leaving hockey, but he still had the confidence in his walk, an assuredness that didn’t vanish with age.
“Gladiators!” he bellowed, grinning wide. Nobody listened to Denali’s instructions, my teammates jumped in front of each other to shake his hand. “I’ve been an assistant coach for the AJU for five years running. I’ve never had the pleasure of a head coach whistle before.” He pointed to Denali and me. “Captain. Alternate captain.”
“Denali Maddox,” Denali introduced himself.
I held up a hand. “Bear?—”
“I know who you are, I’m part of the TIHCC too,” he said, amused. His eyes settled on my face and his eyebrows raised. “Bear, I thought you were drafted to Boston. Who’s this June Basil you belong to now?”
Laughter ricocheted from the team, and I grinned, face flushed.
Before I could explain, he directed his attention to the only other person blushing, and blushing way brighter red than I was. He arched an eyebrow. “You must be June Basil.”
“Hi, sir,” she squeaked. “We tried to wash it off.”
Sémajuste reached for her hand to shake. “Lovely to meet the co-owner of my team.” He gave her a good-natured smile at her apologies and shook Cleo’s hand too, directing them to the front. “Walk with me, I want to check out my new home.”
Our team followed after him as he strode around the rink, laughing at comments from his workers and shaking his head good-naturedly at others. It was pretty obvious his crew was devoted to him.
He clapped his hands, directing his comments to us when he turned around at the end of the rink. “Ground rules are a good start! I believe in honesty, respect, and being open with my team. Any questions?”
Denali raised his voice. “Could we talk about our goals, sir?”
“Goals?”
“We want the Gulf Coast Cup.”
The silence stretched for long seconds as Sémajuste gazed around the crowd of faces. “I’m sure we’ll work our hardest but…”
“We don’twantthe Gulf Coast Cup,” Denali corrected himself. “We’re committed to it. We’re going to win.”
“The Gladiators haven’t won the cup before.”
“We’ll be the first to do it.”
“It’s been months since you’ve had a proper coach,” Sémajuste said, rubbing his hands together. “You’re behind everyone else in the conference. You’d have to eat, sleep, and breathe hockey.”
Montoya’s hand shot to the air. “Are you saying it’s impossible, sir?”
“I guess what I’m saying is…” A huge grin split across his face. “When do we start?”
Everybody wason top of the world when we filed intoGianna’s,pulling tables in the back until we were congregated together. Denali raised a beer. “To the fucking Gladiators!”
“The fucking Gladiators!” everyone shouted, slamming our drinks together.
“Glad for Gladiators!” Montoya sang, chugging down his drink.
“We’re taking hockey seriously now,” Denali said. “No drinking, no partying, no distractions?—”
