Page 4 of Yo Ho Ho
The bag of ice on Logan's shoulder started to shift, and he quickly grabbed it to hold it in place. Leaning back, his head hit the headboard of his bed as he exhaled. He had his share of women since that night a year ago — he was a hockey player in a hockey city after all. But none of them could live up to Max.
That one night with Maxine Quinn. Reporter for theDetroit Herald. Totally off limits.
Chapter 2
"Hey, you coming out tonight?" Logan asked Pirates' team captain Jordan King as they finished changing into their suits after the game.
"Nah. Charlotte is taking me to some fancy restaurant."
Logan just smiled and shook his head. Jordan's girlfriend, Charlotte Stone, was a former reality star who had moved to Detroit to work on her writing career. If he hadn't seen her on that show, Logan would've thought his captain's girlfriend was a nice down-to-earth Midwestern girl. But every once in a while, Charlotte's former fancy Manhattan lifestyle would show through. A post-game dinner at a trendy restaurant in Los Angeles was one of those times.
Logan definitely wasn't a fancy restaurant kind of guy. He knew all the waiters at his local Coney Island, and they knew his regular order. Two Coney dogs and chili cheese fries with a chocolate shake. He was a hockey player after all and he needed lots of calories.
But a trendy L.A. bar in his game-day suit? He was all for that.
Logan and a group of players made sure their equipment was set up to get packed by the equipment managers and then headed out. There was a bar a few blocks away from the arena that they always liked to walk to after they played a game here. Luckily, fans in Los Angeles weren't too obnoxious if they ran into players from the opposing team on the street, unlike other cities. This was definitely not like Philly.
Plus, the bar they were headed to had more cocktails and less beers — hardly a place for the typical hockey fan. Hockey players like Logan did tend to favor a more down-to-earth beer place, but Los Angeles was special, even if it was just a typical road game like any other road game.
Although it wasn't so typical. The Pirates went on a rout tonight, picking up six goals while goalie Matt Jackson got a shutout. It was a good night.
The walk over was cool but not too bad. Logan had to laugh at some of the L.A. natives he walked past in hats and scarves. It was 65 degrees! He couldn't imagine how these people would handle a good old Canadian winter near his boyhood home in Winnipeg.
Logan and the team walked into Aquarius and found a booth with some seats near the back. A few of the guys started looking over the cocktail menu or ordered wings and some other food. But Logan knew what he wanted. He always knew.
"Martini, no olives."
The waitress gave him a flirty smile. "Yeah, but is it really a martini if you don't have olives?"
He shrugged. "Don't care."
The waitress scribbled it down and headed back to put the order in. Ten minutes later, his martini showed up. No olives.
Ryan McCloud, one of the younger players on the team, stood up with his drink in hand. "Alright, boys. Great game tonight, but there's something I need to get off my chest."
He pulled a cheap toy sheriff's badge out of his jacket pocket. It wasn't just any toy sheriff's badge. It wasthesheriff's badge, the one that was passed from one player to another to reward the latest star of the game. Was it stupid? Maybe. Cheesy? Definitely. Heartbreaking? Only for Griffin, the son of winger Sam Martin, who didn't realize his dad stole his sheriff's badge until last week. Apparently, there was a lot of tears when he figured out what he dad had done.
Sure, it was dumb, but it was also a good morale booster. Some teams had wrestling belts or hard hats or whatever. A sheriff's badge was shiny and cool — and easily portable. And tonight, it was Ryan's turn to hand it out.
"This was a tough choice tonight, boys," Ryan said. "Lots of goals, lots of assists. But we also got lots of saves thanks to Matty so this one's for you!"
He held his drink up as a salute, then put it down on the table as he walked over to Matt and pinned that cheap badge on his fancy suit. The guys cheered and hollered for their goalie and another successful night.
As everyone started to dig into their food, Logan got up to get another drink from the bar. He liked their waitress but didn't need to get judged again for ordering another martini with no olives.
He was standing at the bar waiting when he saw her walk in the door. Max was all business, dressed in a black pantsuit that was tailored in all the right places, and a pair of sensible heels. They were more function than fashion, but they were red and made Logan think bad thoughts. He was glad he didn't notice them when she was interviewing him in the locker room earlier when he was only wearing a towel.
Max was with Charlie Cooper, who covered the team for a sports blog, and Bob Shaw, the team's broadcast guy who did play-by-play for each game. The guy was old as dirt, but his mind was sharper than anyone Logan had ever met when it came to hockey, which Logan loved about him. He and Bob once spent two hours debating which player in the league had the best stick tape routine. Logan changed how he taped his stick the next day.
He watched as they walked over and started talking to some of the players. He would need to find a way to make a grand entrance after he got his drink. There was something about the way Max would look at him in those situations that just made him feel… good? Nice? It was weird for him to think about it so he tried not to dwell on that. Instead, he grabbed his martini from the bartender, threw some cash on the bar, and headed over.
"Boys!" Logan bellowed as he approached the table with his martini. "Oh, and Max. I didn't think journalists were cool enough to come here."
He got a sarcastic smile from Max tonight, and he loved it.
"Does cool mean drinking out of a pretentious glass?" she asked.
"It's a martini."
