Page 2 of Power Play
I take his momentary distraction as a chance to study him.
His jawline could be cut from glass, and his dark hair is longer than it was at the end of last season. There’s a faint scar above his eyebrow, a mark from the blade of a skate he took to the face when he was a kid.
I only know about the injury because of a trade-off we made at Media Day my first year with the team. He refused to speak with reporters—a trait that’s still going strong—and I needed someone to fill the time before our newest draft pick jumped on the mic and answered questions from reporters.
Liam and I reached a compromise: one piece of information about his life as a hockey player, and he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone else for the first half of the season.
He went with a graphic story involving stitches, but it worked like a charm.
Being the alternate in-game reporter and media coordinator for the team is a dream. A career opportunity I’ve been chasing for years, from working in the athletic box office when I was a student at Syracuse, to majoring in broadcast journalism with a specialization in sports, and then continuing on as an intern with New York’s ECHL team. After, I moved up to the AHL team in Philly for four years before landing in DC with the Stars.
The position requires adaptability, though. I need to be quick to switch gears and change the wording of prepared questions if a player gets busy postgame or doesn’t want to cooperate.
Liam Sullivan is the definition of uncooperative.
I’ve spent the majority of my tenure here chasing him down the hall. Tugging on his jersey. Begging and pleading for him to give the cameras eight seconds of his time.
It hasn’t happened yet, and I’m starting to think he enjoys being fined by the NHL for refusing to do any press.
That, or maybe he likes to annoy me.
“You’re staring,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.
“No, I’m not,” I lie.
“Twenty thousand people stare at me every night, Piper. I know when I’m being watched.”
“In a different line of work, that would be creepy as hell.” I smooth my hands over my skirt and change the subject. “If anyone can get you in peak playing condition, it’s Lexi. She’s the best in the league. Have you seen the little trophy behind her desk in her office? It saysWorld’s Best Trainer.”
“Wow. I didn’t even have to pay you to say that.” Lexi laughs and walks into the room with a bag of ice. “You’re the best hype woman ever.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” I move out of the way so I can give her space to do her job. “Sorry for stopping by unannounced. I figured since the team is off, you’d have time to grab lunch.”
“Sullivan was a last-minute addition to my schedule.” She taps his shoulder. “On your stomach, please.”
“So you can torture me?” Liam keeps the towel over his lower half and flips positions with a handful of expletives. “Happy?”
“Isn’t he the cheeriest?” Lexi sets the ice on his left hamstring and grins when he curses again. “An absolute delight.”
“I’m only going to be here a minute. Five, tops,” he says.
“Yeah, right you are.” She props a pillow under his leg. “At least twenty, grumpy ass. And if you try to get off that table, I’ll tie you down.”
“Wow.” I lift an eyebrow, impressed. “You run a tight ship around here, Lex.”
“I have to. These guys want a shot at The Cup, and the only way to do that is if they’re in the best shape of their lives. Hobbling around with a weak hamstring isn’t going to help Goalie here with his save percentage.”
“My save percentage is fucking great,” Liam says. “Third in the league last season.”
“But not first. Are you doing the exercises I gave you?”
“Morning and night.”
There’s a reason Liam is in the goal: he’s dedicated to the point of obsession. He lives and breathes hockey, and if Lexi gave him training to do on the side, I’m confident he’s doing it religiously.
“Good boy.” She pats his head, and I hold back a laugh at the flash of annoyance in his eyes. “Do you mind if Piper and I talk, or would you prefer to lie here and stew with your thoughts?”
“Don’t mind. Gives me something to focus on besides how fucking cold this shit is.”
