Page 75 of Pucker Up
We played Montreal the next day and I couldn’t wait to throw a few body checks their way. I usually didn’t like the results when I played angry; I was able get in the zone a lot better when I was happy and didn’t have anything on my mind. But all I wanted to do was get on the ice, bash into some players, maybe drop my gloves, and fire the puck as hard as I could. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.
Ethan picked up on the first ring. “Wanna hit some balls?”
“Dude.” Ethan sound tired. “We hit ten buckets yesterday. I think I dreamed about golf balls.”
He had been the perfect friend I needed for the breakup. We did shit together and he didn’t ask me any questions. I put on the angriest record I owned—Pantera—and cranked it as loud as my sound system would play it. It was so loud in my loft thatI couldn’t even hear the blender as I made my protein shake. I stormed around the concrete box in the sky and chugged down the chalky shake. Even though I didn’t want to talk to her, I still checked my phone every twenty minutes or so, wondering if I would see Professor Hot Tits on the screen. I hadn’t gotten around to changing the name yet, and I was tempted to switch it to CFD – Coach’s Fucking Daughter.
The nights had been the worst. I didn’t deal well with the quiet. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I started thinking about the time we had spent together, and how angry I was that it was tainted. Any hockey player knew how complicated it was to date the coach’s daughter. I wouldn’t expect a typical girl to understand, but the coach’s daughter herself? She had to know she was putting me in a shitty position. Just thinking about it got me fired up. I thought about going for a drive out of the city—that would help me clear my brain—but the streets were slicker than the ice inside the arena. If Ethan didn’t want to shoot balls, I would go on my own.
As the record played, I got dressed and then tried to eat a sandwich. For the past few days, my appetite had been nonexistent and I’d lived off protein powder. It wasn’t smart; I needed all my strength for the Montreal game. I was able to choke down one bite of my roast beef on a bun before I started to feel nauseous.
My phone lit up. The music was so loud I hadn’t heard it ringing. I hoped it was Ethan and that he’d changed his mind about going to the golf dome, but it wasn’t. I froze when I saw the name on the screen. It was Goldie. My thumb hovered above the button to ignore the call, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it.
I turned down the music, took a deep breath, and then answered. Her voice was quiet on the other end of the line.
“Ace, I can explain why I waited to tell you about…” Her voice trailed off.
“Goldie, I can’t think about this right now. I have an important game tomorrow. I told you not to call me.” Hearing her voice brought up the feelings I had been trying to get out of my body. Apparently, I still had some work to do. There were still some feelings stuffed deep down there.
“I know, Ace. It’s Montreal.”
Of course, she knew. She was the coach’s damn daughter. “Why are you calling me?”
“I have to see you. It’s important.”
I sighed, but maybe seeing her was what I needed to get her out of my system. “Unless you’re going to give me one of your predictions about the game, I don’t want to see you.”
The line was quiet, but then she spoke. “I can do that, Ace. If I promise to tell you what to do to win the game, will you meet me today? Like I said, it’s important. I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t.”
She had told me that her visions were gone. Was this just a trick to see me? What kind of a game was she playing? My hockey career was on an upwards trajectory. I was the star of the Tigers now, but if we started losing, my career might be over.
“All right, Goldie. If you can tell me what shot I need to work on today, I will meet you.”
Her voice wavered and I knew she was on the verge of tears. “Thank you, Ace. Can you meet me in the training room at the arena at noon, the one I was using for my study?”
I nodded, and then realized she couldn’t see me. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
“Good,” I repeated.
“Good,” she replied.
“Should we keep going?” I couldn’t hide the irritation in my voice.
“I’ll see you there. Bye, Ace.”
I set down the phone and wondered what the hell she wanted to talk about that was so important. I had an hour before I had to meet her, so I spent the majority of that time banging out push-ups on my kitchen floor.
When I gotto the training room, I heard voices. It sounded like Goldie was in there talking to herself. I knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Hello?” No wonder it sounded like Goldie was talking to herself; her mom was sitting next to her, and they had almost the same voice. Goldie was wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt and looked like she hadn’t slept for two years. Her hair was in a knot on the top of her head and pieces stuck out in all directions. I loved it when she looked all rumpled and her hair was a mess, but it certainly didn’t look like the outfit of someone who was trying to win me back.
Goldie’s mom was the first to speak. “Hi, Ace. Have a seat.” Fern was wearing what looked like a tie-dyed bedsheet. Her hair was in two braids and there was a bandana tied on the top of her head. She looked like a fortune teller from a state fair. I sat in one of two chairs across from the two Swanson women.
“Hi, Fern.” I shook her hand. As much as I was angry with her daughter, I was still a gentleman. “Goldie.” I gave her a nod.
“Ace.” Her voice sounded rough. Her hands were in her lap and she didn’t make eye contact with me from behind her glasses.
“Would you like some water?” Fern poured a glass for Goldie and then held up the water pitcher.
