Page 10 of Yo Ho Ho
She just stared at him before the thoughts finally clicked into place in her head, even if she still couldn't wrap her mind around what they truly meant.
"Everyone, Bob. They're laying off everyone."
Chapter 6
Something was up, and Logan was pretty sure it wasn't good. He just didn't know what exactly was going on.
When Max got on the plane this morning in Los Angeles, she was pale as a ghost. She had looked at him, but it was like she didn't see him or know him or even realize he was staring at her. And to be fair, he was staring at her. Even he would admit that. There was something about the way she looked and the way she moved that crushed his heart. It was an odd sensation for him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that way about a woman.
But then there were a lot of things about Maxine Quinn that were so much different than any other woman he knew. In fact, he spent the whole flight thinking about some of them before he finally got some sleep. There was that smile of hers when she wasn't on the clock, the way it started at the edge of her lips and curled its way in. On rare occasions, she would pull her hair back in a ponytail that would accentuate her long neck. Her laugh was infectious.
He never told her this, but he saw Max at a bar in Detroit one summer night earlier this year. She was with Amanda, another editor from the paper who would occasionally fill in for theHeraldon the road. The two of them were sitting at the bar near the back, tucked away behind some other people that Logan could use as cover so she wouldn't see him. Max was wearing a vintage White Stripes t-shirt with a pair of black shorts and black Converse high tops. She was casual and happy and there was something so appealing about her just being this laid back woman drinking a beer with a friend on an early summer night before the sun had set. He was about to go over and say something to her before Andy Mitchell, the team's trainer, tapped him on the shoulder and they headed out for dinner.
It was probably for the best. Logan had been thinking about her all summer and seeing her in person outside of the arena would've given him very pleasant thoughts and very bad ideas.
On the other hand, when Max was at work, she was a force to be reckoned with. She was always professional and able to hold her own in the locker room. She didn't get spooked by the guys walking around in their towels trying to prove how manly they were. She didn't flinch when a player suggested something inappropriate. Hell, she was often the one who would then put that player in his place. There were a few times when a new guy would test her to see if she was a woman with a basic understanding of hockey and not just some pretty face. Logan knew he wasn't the only veteran on the team who loved watching those new guys flounder when she put them in their place.
Jordan once confided in Logan that he thought it was important as the captain to encourage players to have proper interactions with the media. But then he would lament that his job had already been handled by Max, and in a way that the player would remember her advice much more than he would remember his captain's words.
But the new guys weren't the only ones that Max put in place. Logan had been on the receiving end of a Maxine Quinn tear down, and it had stung. He cursed Max's stupid journalism ethics and doing what was right, which was the wrong thing for him. But she was the only woman he ever respected after she rejected him. Also, she was the only woman he could think of who ever rejected him so it wasn't totally a fair competition.
She was feisty and strong and, dammit, she was good at her job.
Well, usually she was good at her job. Today was not one of those days. Hell, none of the media guys seemed to be good at their jobs today.
The Pirates took two buses from the airport in San Francisco: one for players and personnel that wanted to head back to the hotel, the other for players who wanted to go to the optional skate that morning.
Logan was in the latter group, hoping an hour or so on the ice would loosen up his shoulder so he could minimize the pain during the game that night. He took a few laps on the ice and did some exercises while always keeping an eye on the media who had taken up a spot in the seats to watch practice. He was used to glancing over and seeing them talking or pointing to players on the ice, comparing notes perhaps. There were times when even Logan could hear Bob's boisterous voice out on the ice.
Today, there was nothing. Bob seemed to be talking quietly to Becca, their public relations guru on the road. Charlie kept checking his phone. Max just stared ahead at the ice, her face unchanged except for the fact that it was paler than usual.
The team hustled back into the locker room after practice and began to strip off their gear as the media trickled in to ask a few questions like they always did. But just like earlier in the stands, the press that had come into the locker room was acting strange. They were on edge but a depressing edge, like they were walking in to face their executioner. It was weirding Logan out.
The media scrum began with Charlie asking him some question about what it was going to take to win tonight in San Francisco.
"We just have to get more goals than they do," Logan said with a sarcastic smile.
Nothing. No response. No eye-rolling from Charlie. No laugh. He just stood there and took it like some helpless puppy. Charlie wasn't uptight and by-the-book like some of the other reporters that followed the team around all season. He was a blogger! He was the laid back one. And he still gave Logan no response to such a stupid clichéd answer.
"Are you worried about San Francisco's power play unit?"
Logan gave a reporter from the local Detroit TV affiliate a lopsided smile before turning directly to the camera. "We have thepowerto play them."
He winked at the camera.
Nothing. Not even from Jake! When media questions got boring like this, Logan could always look to Jake, the local cameraman who traveled on the road with them. Jake would always laugh and make the room a little more fun. Lighten things up a bit. But Jake was staring at the eyepiece of the camera. Stoic. Boring.
What the fuck?
Becca quietly shuffled the reporters out of the room. Logan didn't know what was going on, but it was disconcerting. He headed for the showers, hoping the warm water would wash away the awkwardness he was feeling. Worst of all, he thought all the weirdness may have something to do with Max. The guys in the back of the plane seemed to be OK this morning. But when Max finally showed up, something just changed.
The water was not helping Logan's thought process so he gave up. A few guys were getting dressed, a few more had already headed out for the hotel. Logan quickly put on his suit before grabbing his tie from the hook in his locker.
"Hey, did you notice something weird about the media?" he finally asked Jordan.
"You mean that the press guys are walking around like zombies?"
Logan gave him a lopsided smile. "Do you think they've been turned into zombies for real?"
