Page 17 of Rebel Bride
You missed Carter’s mom turning into the Wicked Witch of the West. She flew out of the church on her broomstick.
Jakey
Can you blame her? She spent a lot of money on that shindig.
Dingaling
Drop in the bucket for the Carter dynasty. Not sure screaming at the bridesmaids was justified. Rosie had to be restrained from throwing a punch!
I smiled. That sounded like my friend.
Carter Goon 1
Auntie Arabella is pissed!
Carter Goon 2
Not as pissed as you, fuckhead. You ruined my tux!
Me
So did they hold the reception anyway?
NoBo
Yep. Food was great! No dancing, though, because, obvs.
Good old NoBo. Always had his priorities straight.
My phone rang with a call from my agent. I wasn’t really in the mood, but she was currently working on some business stuff that was time sensitive.
“Hey, what’s up?”
Lauren Yates—or Special Agent Lauren as I’d nicknamed her—was the sister-in-law of Gunnar Bond, one of my dad’s old teammates on the Rebels roster. Formerly an excellent professional hockey player, she had retired and moved into agenting with The Mallinson Group. I had signed with her last year a few months after I was acquired by the Rebels. Previously, I was with my dad’s agent, Tommy Gordon, but I always felt like I was in his stable more as a favor to the old man. As soon as I switched to Lauren, I got an endorsement with Sunshine Granola and just missed out on the Holy Grail of deals, an underwear branding.
“Just checking in on one of my favorite clients.”
“More like thirsting for a steaming hot mug o’ tea.”
She laughed. “Oh yeah, baby! Give it to me.”
I filled her in without mentioning my part in it and Summer’s current location.
“That is wild. I hope Summer’s okay. She’s always come across as such a nice person.”
So everyone said. Did nice people jilt the man they supposedly loved?
“You heard from the Fenton people?” She was talking to the hockey equipment business, trying to cut me a deal.
“Not yet, but I have heard from Tampa.”
“And?”
“Very interested. I’ve been trying to convince them you’re undervalued. That the deal getting you onto the Rebels wasn’t as good for you as it should have been.”
Only now my brand was tarnished. In the last year, I hadn’t played up to my potential with the Rebels and part of the reason was because I felt pressure as Theo Kershaw’s son. We didn’t play the same position—he was a D-man, I played right wing offense—but that didn’t stop the comparisons. To start, the press and the franchise had loved it, but when I wasn’t always dressed for a game or above the third line, there were the inevitable digs at the fact I would never be as good as him. Playing on the Rebels for my dad’s final year was one thing. But if he continued, I wasn’t sure I wanted to live in his shadow.
First world hockey player problems, for sure.
