Page 7 of His Jersey

Clearing his throat, Remy continues, “Son, you’re an exceptional ice hockey player?—”

“I’m not your son,” I say and instantly sense that I’m shooting the messenger.

Remy goes on, “And I know you have more to give to the sport. When I was told it’s time for you to step down, I did what I could. The Knights want you. That’s the best I can do.”

“And you think Haberssen is a better forward than me?”

He shakes his head slightly, but it’s as if he’s in a hostage situation. I half expect him to blink twice as if to indicate my hunch is correct. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he gets to his feet.

Remy nervously raps his knuckles on the table. “Retire or join the Nebraska Knights. That’s what’s on the table.”

“We play the Knights next week.”

“That’s right. Maybe it’ll help you decide, but Badaszek gave a deadline. Mid-season trades aren’t typical, so there will be some paperwork to complete and arrangements to be made. Either way, it’s your last game with the Storm.”

Anger rises inside. The most I can do is grunt, otherwise, I risk a scream of frustration that’ll bring down the roof of this shabby old arena. “Got it.”

“See you on Monday and thanks for understanding.” Remy stumps away.

Oh, I understand all right. They want me out because of my high salary. Trade me in for a cheaper model, maybe two. I’m a beast on the ice and my father’s charming, affable son off it, at least until he shacked up with a woman young enough to be mytwin.

Without hockey, I’ve got nothing.

I want to wash off this conversation and what it potentially means like yesterday’s workout.

To siphon off some of this white-hot energy, I consider tying on my skates and doing some laps. My phone dings—a reminder to meet my father for a late dinner.

No doubt, I’ll get a few scathing comments about how it reflects poorly on him that I missed the event along with a hefty serving of criticism for my dull play lately—not that my father goes to my games.

I remind myself that the Jewel Island oasis awaits and if this is the last thing I have to do before I set foot on the plane, I’ll go out with a bang.

4

ELLA

I’ve triedto convince myself that I’m living vicariously through the rich and famous, but it’s more like I’m surviving, hanging on by the threads of the lacy petticoat under my maid uniform. Black and white, it’s a slightly more modest version of the kind from old movies.

After knocking on the door of the Ruby Room Suite to find out if the guest is inside, no one answers. I enter to refresh it and am surprised to find the bed is made with tight corners and wasn’t slept in. There aren’t really any personal belongings in here except a few items in the bathroom. I’ll have to double-check the occupancy on my tablet for today’s turnover.

All the same, I still have to complete my housekeeping checklist, even if the room is as neat as a pin.

I play a game with myself to make my situation more bearable. Gathering my supplies and softly closing the door behind me, I pretend to be a guest. In this little fantasy, my beloved whisked me away on a surprise trip to this enchanting island. I spin in a circle and say, “Oh, darling, this is divine.”

I run my hand over the polished mahogany side table, drapemyself in the canopy of the bed, and traipse through the space, channeling my very best Amy Adams character in the live-action musicalEnchanted.

Whatever gets you through, right?

While dusting, I sing, “A Dream Is a Wish” from Cinderella.

I try to see the world through Disney princess-colored glasses to ease the monotony of my tasks. I’m all about the hustle, but my efforts feel like running on a hamster wheel while every penny I earn vanishes into my dad’s care fund. It doesn’t help that the costs keep climbing higher.

After leaving the Ruby Room Suite, I double check and it’s booked as occupied, but no one slept in the bed. Maybe their flight was delayed or they’re a no show … which might mean I have a place to stay tonight.

After my shift, I tuck away my wig and give my hair a quick smoothing.

Before I figured out what to do to get by, after guests checked out and before housekeeping arrived, I’d scrounge.

The wig was in a bag along with mismatched socks, peanut shells, fifteen playing cards, and whatever else, I didn’t want to know. That’s when I got the idea to apply for a job here.

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