Page 27 of Playoff
I was on tap for interviews after. I was the new guy, so I needed to be officially introduced. The PR department had warned me that news of my parents was out there, and I’d be asked questions. Like I didn’t know that. Did the press have anything new to ask? The last time the LA team had played in Edmonton and I’d been speaking to the media, my parents hadn’t come up. I’d hoped the story was finally becoming stale. Uninteresting.
At least since I’d scored the game winner there was something else to talk about.
I pulled off my pads and did a quick cooldown before changing into Blaze sweats and following a PR person to the media room. Once someone in management introduced me, I sat down at the table, behind the microphone. I didn’t bother with a statement, just waited for questions.
The first ones had obviously been vetted by the team.
“How do you feel about playing in Toronto?”
I leaned forward. Instead of saying I’d avoided playing for a Canadian team for a reason, I was a good team drone. “I’m happy to be playing for a competitive team. I saw how well these guys did last season, and I hope I can help them do better this year.” Better meant the Cup and I was good with that.
“You’ve been playing in warm climates your whole career. How’s the weather up here?”
“I need a thicker coat, ASAP.” That got some smiles, and even one laugh.
“How are you adapting to a different system?”
“It’s going to take some time before I fit in. But my line did score the game winner, so I hope that’s a sign of good things to come.”
Then things got a little tougher as they asked about the illegal stick penalty from my last game in LA.
“I wasn’t trying to take unfair advantage. A teammate made a bet with me, thinking we could try it for a couple of shifts and not get caught. We were wrong, so I lost the bet.” I ran my hands over my still almost bald skull, and that got some laughs.
They asked who I made the bet with and I told them, but I didn’t say anything about how he’d made sure I got caught. LA knew, and some of the Blaze did. Word would get around, without anything going in the press that Weasel could take action against.
Then we got to the good stuff.
“There are people in this city who were victims of your parents’ investment scam. Do you have anything you’d like to say to them?”
I didn’t roll my eyes, but I’d had this question before. Many times. I’d learned to be very careful. “I’m very sorry for anyone who was harmed by my parents. But I would like to make it clear that I was never involved, had no knowledge of what was going on, and haven’t spoken to them in ten years. I can only hope no one else will be victimized in such a way.”
Not a chance of that. People were greedy and gullible, and others would prey on that. Those scum would even prey on their own family. Ask me how I knew.
The team called an end to questions, and tension eased out of my shoulders as I left the press behind. That hadn’t gone too badly, but who knew what they’d actually print?
Chapter 12
That’s him
Jess
* * *
The office had sent out a last-minute notice that there was a memorial service for Mrs. Garvin the afternoon of Denny’s first game. I’d had to search to find out the details, and once I arrived at the funeral parlor, there weren’t that many people in attendance. She was a woman in her late eighties, so many of her contemporaries were no longer alive.
Almost the only person there who wasn’t eligible to collect a pension, other than me, was her son. He looked bored, as if this was a waste of time for him. Fortunately, his mother still had friends around who shared lovely stories of her life. I didn’t feel it was appropriate for me to speak, but I was going to miss her. We’d talked on the phone weekly, partly about her portfolio, mostly about life.
I left immediately after the service. I didn’t know anyone there, but I wanted to show that she’d touched many lives and deserved to be honored for that.
My book club met at a coffee shop, fortunately not too far from the Top Shelf. I put on one of the many Blaze shirts I'd been gifted, covering it up with a sweater for warmth and so that no one at book club knew my brother’s identity. A pair of jeans, my boots, and the book in a bag and I was ready to go. There were twelve of us in the club, and we each picked a book for one month. This year’s theme was books set in Bath, which I loved since I’d been there, ten years ago.
The first book chosen had been Jane Austen’s Persuasion, so this was our last night discussing that one. Next month was Georgette Heyer’s Bath Tangle. I could see a lot of regency romances coming up, so for my month, June, I was looking through some contemporary whodunits to change things up.
Only four of us showed, due to having colds and being cold, so we were done early. I could get to the bar before the game ended and have a burger for dinner while I staked out one end of the table reserved for the team. Ducky and Katie had gone to the game, since Ducky wanted to see his replacement play. Jayna and Callie had joined them and invited me, but I’d always choose book club over hockey.
The Top Shelf was a popular bar. Two stories high with a large selection of craft beers. Lots of wood and brass, servers in tight T-shirts, and good burgers and fries. Most importantly, there was a sign on the way in: No selfies, no autographs, or no service. It was the reason the local athletes hung out here, because management upheld that policy. Some of the guys wouldn’t mind the attention but Justin hated it. Considering some of the things I’d heard people say to him, I didn’t blame him. It was easy to critique how the team played when you were sitting in an armchair.
People would still approach the players while they were here. If they were respectful, or puck bunnies, no one complained. Others…well, I'd heard it was a badge of honor for some to say they'd been kicked out of the bar. At least those people were in the minority, so it didn't happen often.
