Page 92 of Center Ice
Funny, I don’t remember ordering three containers of Fluff when I put my grocery order in with your personal shopper.
Drew:
Just looking out for my little man.
Audrey:
And exactly how much Fluff do you think the kid is going to eat?
Drew:
You’d be surprised how fast it goes!
Audrey:
You’re his dad, not his fun uncle. Don’t be a bad influence when his mom says no to too much sugar, Drew.
Drew:
Part of being a dad is helping to find ways around Mom’s rules.
Audrey:
Sounds like a good way to start a fight.
Drew:
Just think how much fun we’ll have making up, though.
Audrey:
??????
“Ithought I told you no fighting.” AJ’s voice comes from behind me in the locker room, and I set my phone down and turn to face her, even though I’m wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around my waist.
She doesn’t give a shit if we’re half-naked. This is her team, and she’s going to come in here whenever she damn pleases—as she should. She keeps her eyes trained above shoulder level, but other than that, it’s just like any other GM in the league coming into the locker room.
“I didn’t fight.” It’s a childish thing to say, but I feel like it’s important to establish the facts here. “I defended myself after being attacked.”
“Don’t be a smartass, Jenkins. You threw the first punch in that situation.” AJ’s hands are in the pockets of her trousers, like she’s trying to pretend she knows how to be casual. But her ramrod straight spine and the hard line of her jaw indicate otherwise.
“I’m really not being a smartass,” I tell her. Over AJ’s shoulder, Colt is silently mouthing “Owwwwww,” like I’m in trouble and he’s an overgrown child teasing me about it. I look back at AJ. “But it wasn’t fighting, it was roughing. And you told me that you didn’t want me spending all my time in the penalty box this season. So far, I’ve been in thereonce.”
Tonight’s two-minute penalty for roughing, thanks to the gloves-on gut punch I gave Eckhart as he skated past me, had no effect on the team. Everyone else on the ice except for Zach Reid and the goalies got major penalties and Eckhart was ejected for being the instigator within the last five minutes of the game. It was a shitshow, but it absolutely wasnotmy fault.
She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her chin as she assesses my face. “Did you say or do something tonight to set Eckhart off?” She’s keeping her voice quiet, and with the rowdiness of my teammates still celebrating our win, I doubt anyone can hear us.
“No. Just like I didn’t say anything at the home opener to set off Alistair. This is just how these guys are.”
“Toward you.”
“Yep, toward me.” No point in denying this. Eckhart isn’t known for acting like that, and Colorado didn’t make Alistair captain because he treats all of his teammates the way he treated me. There’s bad blood and, apparently, no amount of time or distance is going to dissolve that.
“So long as you didn’t do anything to antagonize him, I don’t have a problem with you defending yourself. That was a low blow, what he did out there, just like with Alistair last week. At least you weren’t hurt.”
I don’t mention the huge bruise I know I’m going to have on my abdomen. The team doctor checked me out for any signs of internal bruising or bleeding, and she thinks I’m clear but wants a follow-up every day we’re on the road. I’m sure AJ already knows that.
“Just out of curiosity, why are you so adamant about me not fighting? I mean, you brought Zack Reid and me into your office and basically told him he might need to fight more, but you don’t want me to fight?”
