Page 6 of The Ex Puck Bunny
The plan is to get in and get out unscathed.
I rub my eyes. They’re tired and dry. It’s probably time to replace these contacts, but that doesn’t change what I don’t want to see—a place where I hid my past and vowed not to return.
A deep voice says, “There he is.”
Derek approaches and opens his arms for a bro hug.
My smile must betray me.
“Oh, right. Big hockey hotshot doesn’t want to get recognized and mobbed. Trust me, people will leave you alone in here.”
Just like the guy with the beer belly did, hassling the waitress and calling her a puck bunny? Sure. I’ll believe it when they don’t probe me with questions about my suspension. However, I figured sitting with my back to the action may help me remain incognito for a little longer.
Derek slaps me on the back. “Man, you’re as solid as ever.” He flexes his arm. “I better step up my game and get in better shape.”
I squint because the guy is in great condition, keeping active in his landscaping/hardscaping business.
He bellows, “It’s good to have you home.”
Even though Derek Rice was one of my best friends growing up, he never came to my house. It was always his place or Trey’s. I didn’t let them see the squalor I was subjected to with an absentee mother. My father was never in the picture.
In response to his comment about being “home,” I mutter, “That remains to be seen.”
He leans back in his chair, man spread style, and rolls his fingers on the wooden table. I notice a few fresh scars on his knuckles.
Studying me, Derek says, “Hmm. Yeah. Mid-season trade. It’s not the first time Badaszek has pulled a rabbit out of his hat.”
I take it I’m the rabbit in this situation. Not to be confused with a puck bunny or the multitude of happy kitsch cottontails decorating the pub for the holiday late next month.
Derek leans forward as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear what he says next. “I’m not in the Knights’ inner circle, but Coach Badaszek knows what he’s doing. The guy is a coaching wizard. Whatever he says, do it. Trust it.”
Derek’s not entirely wrong. Badaszek has a reputation for being the toughest and best coach in the business. His record proves it. But that doesn’t explain why he picked me after everything that happened. I’m in my own personal losing season, and I can’t quite see how I’m going to battle back.
“The Knights won the cup last year. They’re going to again this year with thanks to you.” Derek wears a hopeful smile.
“I’m sure he’ll play Ted Powell until he retires.”
“Powell’s knee has never been the same. As far as I know, you have all your original equipment, tendons, ligaments, sinew, or whatever.”
“This is true.”
“Of course he’ll play Ted, but you’re going to get ice time. Believe me.”
“Believe you? Trust you? Like the time you said the glowing cigarette lighter in your dad’s Dodge was the Hyperdrive Booster and to push my thumb into it?”
He chuckles as only an old, true friend would. “It was during our Star Wars phase.”
“Or when we were at the lake and you said it was fine to take out your uncle’s boat because you knew how to drive it?”
“You have to admit, it was fun.”
“Until we ran aground and careened into Sherrie McMillan’s rose garden.”
“It was like we had an airboat.” His eyes widen as if remembering the thrill of being airborne for a second.
My mouth presses into a thin line and I shake my head. “Or the hot pepper dare of sophomore year? You said we didn’t need gloves. Then when I went to the bathroom . . .”
He winces. “Not my brightest idea.”
