Page 8 of The Official Problem
He’d been granted custody of her when she was thirteen. Matthieu had been only twenty-one, barely out of his teens,and in no position to raise a child. But it was better than the alternative.
Julie was a hard worker, but he wasn’t naïve. Foster care had a way of making even the most curious, motivated kids fall behind—especially teens. Chances were she wouldn’t have found placement at all and stayed in an overcrowded group home until she could file for emancipation three years later. And then what? So, of course, Matthieu took her in. Most days, he wasn’t sure if he’d raised her or if she’d raised him.
“All right, ladies,” Scott's voice boomed across the ice. Matthieu and Alexei winced at the terminology.
“I hate when he calls us that,” Alexei grumbled.
The league had made big strides in recent years toward inclusivity. There were several out and proud active players on NHL rosters, and officials’ sexuality was no longer gossip-worthy. That didn't stop some in the league, especially higher-ups, from resorting to jabs and insults that belittled both gender and sexuality.
They listened as Scott and a few senior officials rattled off the week's schedule in far more detail than necessary, until Matthieu was struggling to stay awake. He wasn’t sure why they were even on the ice for this part of the day. Eventually, it was time to skate.
Matthieu and Alexei glided over the ice, chatting about their summers. For Matthieu, that didn't amount to much, but Alexei had far more exciting stories. He recounted his travels through South America in vivid detail, including a pair of twins he’d met in Argentina, with whom he’d done things that made even Matthieu’s eyes bug. Matthieu was pretty sure most of it was exaggerated, but with Alexei, you could never be certain.
“Bouchard!” The sharp call cut through the air, drawing everyone’s attention.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Matthieu murmured to Alexei before heading toward Scott, who stood in the visitor’s box. “Yes, sir?”
“My office in ten minutes. Get your skates off first.”
Scott didn't wait for a response or for Matthieu to ask what he meant by “his office,” especially since Scott didn't have one in Montreal. For all Matthieu knew, Scott expected him to make the trip to Toronto in ten minutes, but he gambled that Scott had taken over the small office in the official’s changing room.
Less than five minutes later, Matthieu had pulled off his skates, slipped on his slides, and was knocking on the door. Scott glanced up from behind the desk like Matthieu hadn’t been summoned.
“You wanted to see me?” Matthieu asked.
“Ah, yes. Take a seat. How was your summer?”
“Long and unremarkable, sir.” Matthieu doubted Scott cared about the answer, whatever it was.
“And your mother?”
Matthieu’s throat tightened. “Unfortunately, no change.”
“That’s a pity.”
Scott sighed, picked up a stack of papers, and shuffled them around before placing them in the exact same position.
“Well, I need to talk to you about what happened last season.”
Not this again. “I thought that was all resolved?”
Scott nodded. “So did I. And it was. However…” As always, Scott loved a dramatic pause. Matthieu sat with his hands folded in his lap, trying not to fidget while Scott took his time getting to the point. “There’s been a development.”
“Oh?”
“This hasn’t been announced yet, I believe the press conference is later today. Kieran Lloyd has signed with NewJersey.” Matthieu’s stomach dropped. “Now you understand why this could be concerning for the league.”
Boy, did he ever.His chances of officiating a Lloyd game had skyrocketed. Referees didn’t have assigned arenas, but Matthieu lived in New Jersey. He trained at the team’s practice facility and was scheduled to see them often this season. Kieran would be unavoidable. Of all the teams he could’ve signed with, the New Jersey Inferno was by far the worst for Matthieu’s career.
“I’ll be honest,” Scott continued. “We’re not sure what to do here. Nothing can be done about the trade, and I know you’re not open to relocating.”
They both knew Matthieu’s refusal wouldn’t factor into the decision. If the league wanted to change his home base, they would. Matthieu had been lucky to stay in the Northeast so far, but that wasn’t guaranteed. If the NHL moved him, he’d have to leave the organization or request a demotion to the AHL, undoing ten years of hard work.
“Sir, I promise it won’t be a problem. What happened was a one-time thing.” Matthieu tried to force confidence into his words.
“I know it probably feels like I’m beating a dead horse,” Scott said, voice steady. “I need to ask one more time: is there anything more to this story?”
“More like?” Matthieu’s heart thudded.
