Page 70 of Pucker Up
After I leftGoldie’s house, I went home and studied tapes from the latest Montreal games. They were one of Toronto’s longest-standing rivals, and the next game on our schedule. I hoped it would give me some insight, but instead, it left me feeling frustrated. I couldn’t pick out a single weakness or angle I could exploit.
I called Ethan and we made plans to meet at the arena to practice shootouts.
The two of us skated hard for two hours straight. Ethan’s slap shot was more powerful than mine, but mine was more accurate. “Dude, my wrists are starting to get sore.” Ethan tucked his glove under his arm and rolled his hands.
“One more,” I called and launched a scorcher from the blue line. The net shuddered as the puck hit the back right corner and landed in the pile we’d already shot. I rounded the net and joined Ethan at the boards. I was panting almost as hard as I’d been after my night with Goldie.
Clapping echoed through the building. We looked up to see Coach and Jamie sitting in the stands. “When the hell did they get here?” Ethan whispered.
We had been so deep in the zone that neither of us had noticed the two men in the orange team jackets. “I’m not sure.”
Coach and Jamie made their way to the bench. “That was impressive.” Coach patted Ethan on the shoulder. “Your accuracy has improved.”
Ethan nodded. “I think the driving range has helped my slap shot.”
The men looked at each other. “You’re hitting the range already?”
“It’s bad luck,” Jamie muttered.
I stepped in front of Ethan. “It was my idea. We’re not giving up on the season, Coach. As you can clearly see, it has been the opposite of bad luck for the team.”
Coach smiled. “I agree. Just don’t start booking tee times yet.” He wasn’t mad. I jumped over the boards and sat on the bench. “You’ve gotten faster.” Coach surveyed the ice surface. I might put you two on the starting lineup permanently. I like your hustle.”
Ethan and Gideon played the same position. That meant Giddy would be pushed out. His massive ego would not like it. It also meant I wouldn’t be on the ice with him, something that could really benefit the Tigers. We might have had a few moments of glory, but overall, we were not good together.
My water bottle was almost empty, and as I shook the last drops into my mouth, something caught my eye. “What was that?” I pointed to the hallway that led to the belly of the arena.
Everyone looked to where I was pointing. There was nothing there. Maybe I was the one who was hallucinating. “I swore I saw something back there. It almost looked like a wolf.”
Ethan shrugged. “There’s a coyote problem in the city, but I don’t think they’ve infiltrated Tiger Tail Way yet.”
“It was probably my daughter’s dog.” Coach clapped his hands and then whistled. “Mortman!” He turned to us. “He likes to escape from my office.”
Was Mortman a common dog name? My world went into slow motion as a very familiar malamute sauntered down the hallway, the tags on his collar jangling against each other. He came right up to me and leaned against my legs.
“He likes you.” Coach tilted his head.
I patted Morton. “I’m sorry, Coach. Did you say this is your daughter’s dog?”
“Yes. She’s been working a lot lately, so I’ve been bringing him to my office.” A tuft of hair floated through the air and then stuck to my pants. It was definitely the same dog; that fur was all over my truck, and that tag had Goldie’s phone number on it.
“I didn’t even know you had a daughter.” Ethan held out his hand and Morton gave it an obligatory sniff, before returning to sit at my skates. He looked up at me, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.
“Wow, he’s really taken a shine to you.” Coach smiled. “It’s always a good sign when a dog instantly likes a person.” Somewhere in my memory I heard Goldie’s voice saying the same thing.
Coach turned to Ethan. “My daughter doesn’t come to the games very often, so you wouldn’t have seen her here. I also want to keep her away from the likes of you boys.” He laughed.
My stomach churned and I felt like I was going to barf. I got up and lurched past everyone and ran to the bathroom as fast as my skates would take me. I fell onto the bench and folded over at the waist.
“Ace?” Ethan’s voice echoed in the dressing room. “Are you okay?”
The puke feeling had passed, but I kept my head in my hands. “Yeah. I think I had some bad shrimp.”
“Dude. Seafood is the worst.”
“Yeah.” I inhaled and looked up. Ethan filled a water bottle from the dispenser and handed it to me. “You should get home. Did you take the subway here?” I nodded and unlaced my skates. “I’ll drive you home.” Ethan sat in his official spot and got out of his practice gear.
“I don’t need a ride. I’m fine.” I chugged the water. “I’m going to have a shower here and take the subway home.”
