Page 15 of Forbidden Puck
“Those are water taxis,” he told me. “On game days, Lance and I take one across the harbor to get to the arena.”
“Oh, that must be fun! We have those in New York, too.”
“How do you like living in New York, Ella?”
“It's nice. Hectic, but nice.”
Radar smiled at me. “Yeah. Any time we visit New York, I'm amazed at how busy it is—everywhere you look, all you can see is people, cars, and buildings. Boston's a big city but it doesn't reallyfeelbig, you know?”
“Mm. Yes. I know what you mean. I don't see myself living in New York forever. But as long I'm building a name for myself, I have to.”
“How's your business going, anyway?” he asked with a genuine interest.
“Good, good. I don't take much time off because I'm always busy. But I'm doing well, so at least there's that.” I paused. “I'm not doing as well as you and Lance, of course, but hey.”
He laughed and bumped my shoulder with his. “Hey,I'mnot doing nearly as well as Lance either. He's the superstar, making the big bucks. I'm eating the table-scraps.”
“Lance. Superstar.” Playfully, I rolled my eyes. “Somehow, I don't think I'll ever be able to reconcile that word with the idea of my brother.”
Amused, his big blue eyes sparkled at me. “Must be weird,” he said.
“Sure is.”
We sipped our drinks and quietly watched the boats motoring by, to and fro. The waves rose and fell in the boats' wake, lapping at the harbor.
“I don't watch much hockey,” I said. “Correction, I don't watch any hockey. But an ex-boyfriend once told me that you and Lance have a good thing going out on the ice. That you're a sort of—what'd he say—oh yeah, that you're awrecking ballon the ice, hitting guys left and right.”
Radar smiled at me bashfully. “Yeah.”
“You seem too nice, too humble, to be this violent guy.”
He shrugged. “It's nothing personal. I just have a job to do.”
“Which is?”
“Create space for your brother. And protect him.”
“He needs protecting?”
“I'm not sure if you realize how good he is, but he's our best player, Ella. If anything happens to him, the team is pretty much screwed. That puts a target on his back; guys want to hurt him to take him out of the game.”
“How grotesque.”
“I guess. Of course, I'm always trying to teach himnotto run his mouth out on the ice … he has a habit of talking shit to these huge guys. And then Ihave to step in and fight them.”
I giggled. “Nowthatsounds like my brother.”
Radar gave a careless shrug. “Anyway, like I said, it's my job. I bounced around the league for years, from one team to the next, before I ended up here full-time in Boston.”
“Traded, you mean?”
“Traded, or waived, or demoted to the AHL, or not offered a contract renewal … you name it.”
“Huh. Why? If you play with Lance, you have to be pretty good, right?”
“Sure, I'm good. Just like the other 800-some players in the NHL. The elite are head and shoulders above the rest, but everyone else is very, very evenly matched. Every one of those guys can skate and shoot. But to keep a job in this league, you have to stand out. You have to have one skill you excel at.”
“And your one special skill is?”
