Page 14 of Let It Be Me
“The eyes,” we sing.
“How’s work, Sarah?”
I look at her and take a healthy sip of my drink.
“That good, huh?”
“We’re doing damage control right now. One of the hockey players needs a PR makeover. Jeff stated that since my schedule is so light, thank you Mason, he suggested a babysitter. And guess who has to do the babysitting?”
Emily’s mouth falls open. “You?”
“I sometimes hate my job.” I mock pout into my drink.
“But you’re the best publicist I’ve ever had,” Mason interjects as he and Adam join us in the pool.
Holy shit. Tattooed and pierced? Emily being incredibly cagey about him makes sense and splashes me yet again when she sees who has my attention. I can’t help it if my best friends date hot men.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Get your own single dad,” she taunts.
The laughter that spills out in the pool relaxes me.Adam kisses her on the cheek and pulls her into his arms as we all wade further into the pool.
Funny enough, I thought Jeff was flirting with me when I first started. And my fairy tale mind took me to a place where I imagined dating my boss. I very quickly imagined our illicit hookups in his office. But that was squashed after working with him for a good few months when I learned how messy he was. Jeff is now the older brother I never had and his kids are the nieces and nephews I knew I wouldn’t get from being an only child. Now my fairy tale’s involve my new client which is possibly worse than my boss.
The rest of the day is filled with drinks, food, and so much laughter my stomach cramps. Having friends is temporary. But having a chosen family is forever. And that’s what this small group is.
6
RILEY
“Hold for eight, Riley,” my pilates instructor, Mischa, coaches. “Seven, six, core tighter, four, eyes forward, chin up, and one. You can relax now.”
I let out a groan as I rest my body. I started taking pilates classes in college with Momma. At first I scoffed at it because I’d never seen a man take a class, but then after a few classes I realized just how much it helped me on the ice. Especially with my balance. Now I incorporate it with my team training and have even gotten some of the rookies and vets to join in on a few classes.
Mischa walks me through two more sequences on the reformer and then runs me through a cool down. Despite my reputation, okay that’s totally warranted to some level, I’m respectful to the women in my teammates lives. Mischa is firm and it’s something I see in her husband, Coach Anderson. When hockey is going to the wayside, I can always count on the Anderson’s to hopefully set me right. They’re the ultimate successful, fit couple. Not that I need a fit couple to be the blueprint. Mischa and Coach Andersonboth played volleyball and hockey in college, respectively. How they met was through a blind date and have been together for fifteen years.
I sit on the reformer and take small sips of water as she wipes down the other machines and gathers up equipment from class. It’s a small class as she only takes on five per round, but she’s effective and worth the price we pay.
“Any plans for today, Riley?” Mischa asks over the coffeehouse music that’s playing through the speakers. Some can argue that Mischa’s husband is why she’s so successful. And while that may have been true in the beginning she’s earned herself a well-deserved spot in the fitness community on her own. Her classes book out a month in advance and have waitlists ten, sometimes twenty, people deep.
I close the cap on my water bottle and stand up. “Momma and Pops are having a barbecue later this afternoon so I’m headed there.”
When I feel turned around, that’s when my routine and behavior fall apart. It’s been like that since my parents passed away. But as I got older my routine was only possible with structure. College classes, conditioning, practice, games, and repeat. This past year was the first time my routine was less structured since college and for that my reputation hit the lowest it had ever been. I made a poor choice with the company I kept and that led me to needing a new publicist and agent.
“Oh my god, please bring us a plate,” Mischa begs.
“Only if you let me take Kylie out for ice cream.” I bargain with her and slip on my tennis shoes. Because as soon as I utter the Anderson’s, Momma will immediately put a container aside for them. In the year that I’ve been with Columbus, the Anderson’s have taken me under their wing. I was rowdy my first month playing and when Coachtexted me his address for a more personal meeting, things shifted. I slowly felt myself come back down from the air of arrogance that formed around me. Yes, Momma and Pops are in the same city, but Mischa and Coach understand this life better than them. And when their oldest, Kylie, dogpiled me that first day, I unconsciously knew that I’d have to display some sort of maturity where they were concerned. Did that always work? Clearly not considering the situation I’m in.
“Deal,” she says over her shoulder and wiggles her eyebrows. “Jared and I could use the alone time.”
“Yuck! You expect me to look him in the eyes now?” I joke, but also cringe, as knowing this about my coach is a step too far. The guys and I may say some outlandish things in the locker room, but coach talk is strictly off-limits.
Mischa’s laughter fills the studio as we walk to the front desk to look over my training schedule and her class times. One of the perks of Mischa teaching is that Coach gives her our practice, travel, and game schedule for the whole season so I can pick my classes before they’re on the schedule for the public. Mischa’s are the only classes I’ll take. Not because the others aren't effective, but because she doesn’t fawn over us athletes that come in. And as a former athlete herself, her workouts are tailored to our specific needs.
“Three classes a week? Are you sure?”
“It’s off-season and I have nothing but time.”
