Page 42 of Heated Rivalry 1
“I thought that ‘A’ was for asshole.”
“Funny.”
“So, no to going out with me tomorrow night?”
“No. But have fun.”
“I remember when you used to be fun, Roz.”
“Iamfucking fun.”Gonna have a solid hour of fun before I’m back in time for curfew.
Cliff nodded at Price, who was watching the movie intently and didn’t seem to notice him at all. Cliff’s face was a question mark, and Ilya had no idea what the question was. So Cliff, being an asshole, held a hand to the side of his face to block it from Price’s view, and mouthedWeird guy, right?
Ilya shrugged. Maybe Ryan Price was weird, or maybe he just wasn’t exactly what people were expecting him to be. Ilya was certainly in no position to fault someone for that.
The following evening—Montreal
“I’m telling you right now,” J.J. said, “if fucking Rozanov starts shit with you tonight, I’m taking him out.”
Shane pulled his shoulder pads over his head and began securing them in place. “If you go for Rozanov, Ryan Price is gonna go afteryou.”
“Fuck Price. I’ll send that dumb motherfucker crying back to wherever the fuck he’s from.”
“Nova Scotia, I think.”
“I’m just saying—” J.J. pointed his shin guard at Shane, for emphasis “—Rozanov gives you trouble, I’m ending him. Price or no Price.”
Shane politely ignored the fear that J.J. was trying not to show. J.J. was one of the biggest players in the league and could handle himself in a fight, but Ryan Price was a fucking terror.
Price was just one of the things that made these games against Boston extra tense. Montreal was a city that buzzed with excitement about their hockey team all winter—you couldfeelthe electricity in the air every home game day. And wheneverBoston was in town, Shane felt like the city was pulled as tight as he was. Every cell in his body sparked with the need to get on the ice and face Rozanov. And when the games were over, he pulsed with a different kind of need.
A loud bark of laughter interrupted Shane’s thoughts. Hayden thrust his phone in his face. “Hey, look at what the fans are doing outside.”
It was a video, posted to Twitter, of a group of people outside the arena burning what appeared to be an effigy of Ilya Rozanov.
“Well, that’s a bit much,” Shane said.
J.J. grabbed the phone. “Ha! This is happening now?”
“A few minutes ago,” Hayden said.
“Beautiful. Love it.”
Hayden took his phone back and studied the screen. “They didn’t make the dummy ugly enough.”
Sure, Hayden.“They’ve probably burned effigies of me in Boston,” Shane said.
“Oh yeah! They totally have. Here, let me go to YouTube...”
“Yeah, no. I actually am trying to focus on winning a hockey game right now. No YouTube, please.”
The team’s PR manager, Marcel, came into the dressing room, and Shane sighed.
“Shane,” Marcel said. “NBC wants to talk to you. You good?”
“Sure. I’ll be out in a sec.”
The broadcasters always wanted to talk to Shane before the games, especially before games against Boston. He tried to think of a new and exciting way of answering the question, “What does Montreal have to do to win tonight?” as he made his way to the hallway outside the dressing room.
