Page 7 of Slap Shot
Luce was beside herself with excitement.
The jersey smelled like death and hung all the way down to her feet, but she didn’t care. She wore it around for weeks, and it’s still her favorite item hanging in her closet.
I don’t know where her infatuation with hockey comes from. I can barely name two teams in the league, but I’ve been trying to get better about following what the Stars are doing so I can keep Lucy up to date.
This has to be a sign, right?
This card has been in my bag formonths. It’s been buried under a pack of gum and a pair of AirPods, forgotten and half shredded by keys and bobby pins, and today of all days—when I’m on the verge of freaking out—I find it?
I’m not a big believer in divine intervention. I’ve never gone to church, never believed in miracles, but I’m going to pretend finding this card is courtesy of a guardian angel somewhere out there who is reaching out to me.
I grab my wine and gulp half of it down for liquid courage. When I talked with Piper all those months ago, she said if I ever needed anything or found myself in DC to reach out. Calling a woman I barely know out of the blue is extreme, and I don’t want to seem desperate as hell.
I weigh the pros and cons while I sip my drink. By the time I finish my glass, my inhibitions are lowered. The anxiety that’s taken up residence in the pit of my stomach loosens from the knot it wove itself into, and for the first time all week, I see a glimmer of hope.
Iamdesperate as hell.
What do I have to lose?
“Fuck it,” I say to my empty room, dialing her number.
The call rings twice before there’s an answer, and I sit up straight.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” I say. “Is this Piper Mitchell?”
“This is she.”
“Hi. This is so weird, and I apologize in advance how I might come across.” A laugh rattles out of me, but I power on. “My name is Madeline. Madeline Galloway. We met when the Stars played against the…” I trail off and curse myself for not knowing what the hell the local hockey team’s name is. “When they were in Vegas last season. My daughter is Lucy. You signed with her?”
“Oh my gosh. Ofcourse. Hi! How are you?”
There’s warmth in her voice and kindness in her question, like she really wants to know how I am.
It helps me relax. It lets me take a deep breath, and I draw my knees to my chest.
“Do you want the long story or short story?” I ask.
“I love a long story,” she says.
“I lost my job as the executive chef at a restaurant here in Vegas, and I’m looking for work. It feels like I’ve exhaustedall avenues in the city, so I’m branching out. Do you know of anywhere in the DC area that might be hiring? Or somewhere else? I’m willing to relocate.”
“Wait. You’re a chef?” Piper asks.
“I am. Or, I was. Now I’m unhappily unemployed.” Another laugh slips out of me. If I hadn’t had that glass of wine, I might be in tears. “New owners are coming in, and they’re cleaning house. I guess the bright spot in all of this is it’s not a reflection on my work.”
“I’m so sorry. Job uncertainty is hard. What kind of restaurant were you working in?”
“A Michelin-starred steakhouse. I’ve been in all sorts of kitchens, though, and I’m comfortable with anything.”
“Anything?” she repeats.
“Within reason. I’m not great with French cuisine, but I’m willing to learn. I have a strong work ethic, and I’m able to stay calm under pressure.” I wince at my tone, at the harshness and bite behind it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be defensive. I’m so used to having to hold my own against people—men, if we’re being honest—who are less qualified than me but in a higher position of power. It came out like a reflex, and that wasn’t my intention.”
“Don’t get me started on the power imbalance of men and women in the workplace. I see it every day in my role, and I could talk for hours about gender favoritism,” she says fiercely. “But enough about asshats who don’t work as hard as us. Have you ever considered a career as a private chef?”
“A private chef? Um, no. It never crossed my mind,” I say honestly. “I’ve done the majority of my cooking for large groups of people and in restaurant environments. It’s what I’m most comfortable with.”
