Page 39 of Keeping it Real

“Hold on there, beautiful,” the guy said.“While I don’t mind pretty young women living in our neighborhood, I need to know that Cujo here isn’t going to run amok and start attacking people.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Who are you staying with?”the creep asked.

“We wouldn’t live here if you paid us,” Finn yelled.“We live with Alek Bergeron.”

Oh, Finn.

Eleven

The shit hitthe fan as soon as the Mayhem left the ice.Merriweather had the nerve to voice his displeasure with their loss the minute they arrived in the visitor’s dressing room.He snapped his stick over his knee while uttering a few choice expletives.

“We coulda had that one,” he groused.

He was one to talk.If he’d been where he was supposed to be in the final minute, the puck wouldn’t have slipped beneath Alek’s butterfly stance and into the net.Both teams would still be out there on the ice playing overtime right now.

The stats wouldn’t reflect that, of course.Alek’s numbers would take the brunt of the loss.So would his reputation, which was, at present, circling the toilet.He tossed his helmet into his stall in frustration.

“Closed-door team meeting tomorrow after morning skate.Players only,” Picard announced.

“No fucking way!”Merriweather complained.“Tomorrow is our first back-to-back game all season.Contract says we get the day off.”

“Yeah, so you can get stoned while playing video games,” Valentine mumbled beside Alek.

The air in the dressing room all but crackled as the members of the Mayhem waited to see how their captain would respond.

“I don’t give a shit about the contract you signed with management.”Picard kept his voice low yet lethal.“But every time you pull on a hockey sweater with the Mayhem logo on it, you’re making a commitment to every guy in this room.And that extends to participating in meetings and whatever else I deem necessary.”

Merriweather looked as if he was going to object.One of the PR staff poked his head into the room.

“Media in five, fellas,” he announced.

“Are we good?”Picard asked the room at large.He was adamant the media did not get wind of any rifts among the team.The Mayhem’s wonky start to the season already had the hockey pundits dissecting the team’s every move as it was.

Most of the guys murmured in the affirmative.Merriweather ripped his sweater over his head and tossed it into one of the equipment hampers before stomping off toward the showers, his skates still on his feet.Valentine shook his head in disgust.Alek exchanged a look with Gus.They needed to do their part to help change the narrative.

“Great penalty killing out there tonight, guys,” Alek told his teammates.He hated losing as much as the next guy.Still, he knew they couldn’t win every game.Not that the fans would see it that way.“You saved my ass multiple times while keeping the game close right up until the end.”

“I agree,” Gus said.“Tonight’s Balls to the Wall Award goes to Seward and the PK team.Outstanding job, all of you.”

Gus pulled a thick gold link chain with a three-inch gold M hanging from it out of his bag and placed it around Seward’s neck.The rest of the guys clapped, albeit with a little less enthusiasm than if they’d won the game.

“Speech,” they demanded.

Seward stood.“I believe in every man in this room.All we need to do is play Mayhem hockey.Let’s focus on the games ahead of us and get the job done.”

“You know it!”Valentine called out.

A few of the guys barked while others banged their sticks on the floor.The dressing room door opened, and members of the media flooded in.Curiously, they all made a beeline to Alek’s stall, where they began bombarding him with questions.

“Alek, can we get a comment on the incident involving your girlfriend and your ward?”

“How long have you been dating Sheridan Cobert?”

“Has your dog had all of its shots?”

“Did you pick out her Halloween costume?”

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