Page 4 of Face Off
“The decency of the traveling public has gone out the window. Thank god we fly on charter planes. If I had to see someone walk into the airplane bathroom without shoes on, I’d track down an air marshal and make sure they landed in jail.” She tugs on my arm and guides me down the hall. “I’ll show you your room so you can get cleaned up, then we can do the whole tour.”
“Holyshit, Piper. I know you sent me photos, but this place is massive.” I glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. The DC skyline winks back at me, and I’m officially impressed. “This would go for millions in California.”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Piper grins at me over her shoulder. “If that fucker was going to cheat on me with his secretary and then say the divorce was my fault, you bet I was going to drag him for everything he was worth.”
“How have you been holding up?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” she says, but her smile is strained in the corners. “I had no clue how much he was limiting me until I was away from him, you know?”
I do know, and I hate that my sweet friend now does too.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”
“Don’t be. I’m on the other side of it, and things are going well.” Her megawatt smile is back in place, and she stops us in front of a door. “This is your room. There’s a bathroom attached, and I have towels set up for you. There’s even a towel warmer.”
“Gosh you’re fancy.” I hesitate before I lean forward and hug her again. “Thank you for taking me in.”
“You don’t have to thank me. This is going to be fun. There’s no rush to settle in. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.”
With a wave and a flip of her hair, she saunters down the hall and hums a tune that sounds suspiciously like “Goodbye Earl.”
Thirty minutes later, I sit next to Piper on the couch and accept the beer she hands me. We knock the bottles together in a celebratory cheers, sit back and relax.
“I can’t believe you’re here, Em. And not only are you here—you’re signing a contract with the Stars.”
“How many people know about the signing? Did a memo go out?”
“No. I only found out when the broadcast team was given your stat sheet so we could do some research on you. I have a feeling it’s going to be released to the media very soon, though. There’s always someone who tells someone who tells someone else, and the next thing you know, it’s plastered all over ESPN. Maverick knows, of course, so when it gets leaked, we can blame him.”
Maverick Miller.
I’ve watched his highlights, and I know he’s an incredible hockey player.
He’s the former NHL Rookie of the Year. A First Team All-Star five seasons in a row. A recent Ted Lindsay Award winner, voted as the most outstanding player by the members of the NHL Players Association.
He might be an athletic phenom, that once-in-a-decade number one draft pick you go all in on because you know he’s going to win you a Stanley Cup, but his social media is littered with posts that screamlook at me.
I did a deep dive on him on my flight over, and I wish I hadn’t.
There are pictures in VIP sections at clubs with an obnoxious silver chain around his neck. Other photos of him lounging in a suite at a DC Titans football game and throwing out the first pitch for the DC Dolphins baseball team.
I’m all for flaunting your wealth and showing off what you’ve earned, but he’s the league’s golden boy. The one modeling in magazine spreads wearing suits that cost eight thousand dollars and the guy who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.
I heard a story that he wanted to use a public gym during the off season, and they shut down the building for two hours so he could get a workout in.
I bet no one’s ever told him no.
It’s difficult to play with people like that. There’s ego involved, amenotweattitude that makes the locker room tense and uncomfortable.
I’ve seen it firsthand, and I don’t want to be a part of that environment again. If that’s how the Stars are operating, I’m not going to last more than a week.
“Miller,” I say, and I hide my curiosity with a sip of my beer. “We have a morning skate planned for later this week, and Idon’t want to go in without knowing more about what he’s like off the ice. My friend says he’s a fuck boy. Is that true?”
Piper blushes. “I don’t know anything firsthand, but on the road, he’s been known to sneak someone back to his hotel room after curfew. The women are always very enthusiastic.”
“That has to mean he’s an asshole, right? Someone who doesn’t have his priorities figured out.”
“Not at all. Maverick is kind of like a puppy. He’s full of energy and bounces around everywhere. Everyone loves him, and the work he does for charitable organizations is admirable. He also wears his captain hat well. It’s why he’s still here, even through all the losing crap: he believes in these guys, and he loves DC.”
