Page 29 of Hot Damn
It’s late when we get to the hotel. We’re all wired, pumped from another pre-season win, and I can tell a few of my teammates are going to hit the bar. As captain I should probably join them, but all I want to do is get to my room and call Whit.
I can’t believe I left my phone behind when we left for the arena. Granted I was a little distracted when I couldn’t find my lucky underwear but I’m never without my phone just in case Whit needs me. Especially when she’s not traveling with me, which she’s done less and less now that she’s in high school.
Before we left Toronto, I had full confidence in her staying with a teammate’s family overnight. Jenny Ruston was the perfect person to take care of Whit for me after Mama Dot passed. It helped that Whit attended the same school as the Rustons’ sons. The boys treated Whit like a little sister and even when I wasn’t away, we spent a good deal of time with them.
Cory Ruston is the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had and leaving him and his family behind when we moved to Baton Rouge is proving harder than I thought it would be.
“Hey, Bex, you getting a celebratory drink with us?”
I should. But I need to touch base with Whit. Glancing at mywatch I see it’s later than her usual bedtime and if I called now I’d probably wake her…
“Yeah, I’ll have one but we’ve got an early flight out in the morning so we shouldn’t make it a late one.”
The need to talk to Whit and the promise I made Coach to connect with the members of the Rogues org compete but I have to remember my girl is almost an adult and if she needed me and I didn’t answer she’d have found another way to get hold of me.
Stepping into the hotel bar I see it’s packed with Rogues and I smile. Even if there were some fans that wanted to hang out with players, there’s no room for them to get in here.
I lift my chin at Coach Alcott and Oakley. They’re sitting at a two-seat high table near the entrance. The vantage spot gives them a view of everyone inside and anyone entering and I wonder if it’s so they can keep an eye on the players.
At the beginning of the season, when everyone rolled into Baton Rouge, our GM, Oakley, Coach Watts, and Coach Alcott, along with the rest of the coaching staff made their expectations clear. They don’t want any scandal outside of what the franchise already caused.
Their plan is to concentrate on winning and they want nothing to detract from that. The older, more experienced guys on the team, particularly the married ones, aren’t going to be a problem, but there are a few younger players. A couple of them mere boys, who might prove to be a problem.
Coach asked me to keep an eye on things, give some of the younger guys a guiding hand in navigating the sometimes treacherous waters of professional sportsmanship.
I’m sure he thinks because I’ve kept myself out of the spotlight other than on the ice, I know how to handle the attention, the sometimes over the top adoration hockey players receive, and by adoration I’m pretty sure he means puck bunnies.
I’ve never dealt with any of it. Even in my younger days I steered clear of the late-night partying because my sole focus was on playing well to keep my position on the team and raising Whit.
I’m not sure how much help I’ll be but I’ll put in the effort because the more I look at where I am in life, where Whit is, the more I realize this is my last team. I signed a three-year, no trade contract, and at that point I’ll be thirty-six. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to play that long.
“Bex!” Tasman Culler calls me over. He’s our top defense player and he’s sitting with Cutter Jepson and Mike Ferro, two other defensemen.
“Great game, guys. We couldn’t have won it without you,” I say as I pull out a chair at their table. “Let me buy you a round.”
“No need. Our illustrious owner and her husband have opened a tab. We each get two drinks then they’re shutting down the bar,” Tas explains.
“Oh, I didn’t realize they were doing that.”
“She got the hotel to open the bar just for us. It’s normally closed this late on a weeknight,” Jep adds.
“Explains them perched on that table by the door.”
“Right?” Mike pours a beer from the pitcher in the middle of the table and hands me the glass. “And the win isn’t only because of us. You were smokin’ out there tonight, Bex.”
“I did have a good game. But it’s not just on me either. I think we’re meshing as a team and as much as on paper we don’t look like we’d play as good as we have been, I think it’s because we all want to play well. We’re making more effort to learn each other’s tells and to be honest, I think the way the org treats us, and I’m including the coaches, has a lot to do with our success so far. Not that we should get complacent at all.”
“Definitely not!” Tas slams his glass on the table. “Complacency loses games.”
Jep and Mike lift their glasses up over the middle of our table and I quickly do the same.
“To the Rogues,” Jep offers as a toast.
Tas joins in and as we each take a sip the sound of clapping fills the room. All our heads turn in the direction of the noise andsee Oakley James standing on a chair, her hand on Coach’s shoulder for support.
“Now that I have your attention I’d like to say a few things.” Her eyes scan the room, making sure everyone is looking her direction before she continues. “We’re kicking pre-season butt but we can’t sit onourbutts because we’ve won a few games.”
The fact her words echo our sentiments doesn’t surprise me. After my conversation with Whit the other night, I did some research into the four women who make up KAW.
