Page 17 of Offside

The room erupts with a repeating chant,Let’s go, Vikes, along with somehell, yeahsandlet’s go, boys.

Being that I’m starting my eighteenth season, I’ve heard these yackity-yack, bullshit pump-you-up speeches before. It’s every coach’s dream to get their team to the playoffs and ultimately put the Cup on their résumé. I’ve been lucky enough to get there several times myself and have even walked away once with a hoisting of the silver cup.

Would it be fucking awesome to win another Stanley Cup in my last year in the league? Fuck, yeah it would. But if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. My own personal goals are to remain healthy and finish the season with more Ws than Ls.

When the cheering dies down a bit, Coach Thomas continues, waving a hand across the room at the group of guys in front of him. “We’ve assembled a hell of a fucking A-team this year, thanks to our GM, Nate McGowan, and of course, our new team owner, Ms. Spurlock.” He nods his chin toward the back of the room and all heads swivel around to find a scowling Nate and a smiling Karis behind us.

And fuck me, she looks incredible.

She looks sexy in her gray suit and her hair done up in some complex braid that wraps around to the back of her head and is then pinned in a tight bun at the nape.

With her hair pulled back like that, her long, slender neck is exposed. Just seeing all that warm, silky skin of hers has my balls aching with the memory of slowly kissing up that throat.

I turn back around and covertly adjust myself with a tug of my pants leg. No need for anyone here to see exactly how our new owner affects me.

“If this is going to be work, then we need to push hard from the very get-go, boys. No fucking around. No late nights or parties. I mean it.”

Everyone groans and Nils leans over and mutters in my ear. “Says the guy who doesn’t have a new baby.”

Coach’s eyes snaps to him. “What’s that, Lundren? You got something to add?”

Nils sits up straighter, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “No, Coach. Just agreeing with you.”

“Good.” He stares at him for a beat longer and then continues. “This is no party, fellas. It’s eat, skate, sleep, repeat. It’s going to be a daily grind. For you rookies, you’re going to learn to love this process. We will have new plays to learn, skills to improve, but what it boils down to, boys, is the teamwork. That’s what will get us there. Camp will be gruesome and exhausting. It will break you down and wear you out with only one goal in mind. To make every one of you champions.”

With that, the room explodes in cheers and applause.

“Fuck yeah,” comes a shout from a few rows ahead of me. I tip my head to see Tanner Rossco, a third-year D-man and loudmouth. Costa, who sits behind him, slaps him on the back; whether for encouragement or to shut him up, who knows?

Coach goes on for a few more minutes, checking his notes to point out the things he noticed during the scrimmages, then finishes up with the passing of the baton.

“And now I’m going to hand this over to our esteemed owner, Ms. Spurlock, who has something she wants to discuss with all of you.”

A silent hush descends over the room as Coach moves out from the platform and Karis gracefully strides down the aisle to the front to take his place.

There’s not one pair of eyes that isn’t laser-focused on our beautiful club owner. I know what these boys are thinking and can guarantee you there are some lewd scenarios being imagined among these guys, too. I just hope no one is stupid enough to say something.

I will take down any guy who mutters an inappropriate word.

Karis stands poised, if not a little stiff and cool. She’s tall and slender with shapely round curves in her hips and thighs. Her delicate fingers wrap tightly on each side of the podium and the plump shape of her breasts can be seen as she leans forward with intention. She clears her throat.

I clear my thoughts.

“Gentleman, welcome to training camp. On behalf of the leadership staff and ownership group, including my uncle, Marv, we’re looking forward to a great year ahead. As you may know, my uncle is still unwell, and therefore I’ve taken over the ownership duties until he is back on his feet.” Her breath stalls for a beat and I see the sadness flicker in her green eyes. She drops a hand to the tablet she placed on the podium.

There have been no reports or updates in the media or from the team public relations group on the status of Marv’s condition. All we know is he’s back home in Seattle recovering while Karis is now in charge. “Many of the duties of ownership, aside from making sure the club is financially stable, entail public endeavors. Which leads me to this PR request for a few of you.”

The entire room grows silent and seems to shrink in size. A glance around me tells me exactly what they’re doing. The guys slink down in their seats in an effort to make themselves appear small and inconspicuous, hoping to avoid being a target.

Karis opens up her tablet, scanning the content before she lifts her head and her eyes peruse the room, seemingly looking for all the players on her list.

“The Vikings organization is an integral part of this community, and as such, we must show up and give back to those who support us. Several events are scheduled prior to the season start. You’ve all received and responded to my assistant already, who reached out to each of you to confirm your schedule availability and the events you’d be interested in attending. I have a list of those who will be required to attend which events as a representative of the Vikings.”

She begins reading off event names, dates, and each player she’d like in attendance. My name is called last.

“Ballas Keeney,” she says, her eyes pinning me with a look that’s a cross between a demand and a plea. “You’ll be attending the Vancouver Fights Heart Disease event this Friday evening in honor of my uncle and all those who suffer from the disease.”

Fuck. I mentally try to devise an excuse to get out of this event, but I know it’s of no use. Obviously, she knows I’m not doing anything and have no other plans but icing my sore muscles after a full week of camp. I simply nod in understanding. Next to me, Nils snickers, elbowing me in the ribs in jest.

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