Shit.Hey Coach? Yes, Sir?What the hell did Troy call him?
I straightened. “Yeah, I know, I’m getting out there.”
“Sit down.”
I knew Coach’s orders were not to be taken lightly. And this guy meant business. Toughest NHL coach in the industry—with zero tolerance for the kind of BS Troy was pulling.
I should have seen this coming. But I worked on Wall Street. Managing a team of six portfolio managers, and three associates. No one ordered me around. Not even the CEO of our firm, who worshiped me since I’d made the firm billions in assets last year.
When I hesitated and probably looked like I was going to throw one down, Ryan put a firm hand on my shoulder, lowering me onto the bench.
My jaw tightened. “What’s going on Coach?” Figured I couldn’t miss with that one.
“You know you’re practically still a rookie. What makes you think you can march in here minutes before you’re due on the ice?”
He was yelling.
I didn’t do well with people yelling at me. I did most of the shouting where I worked. And people jumped. Now this dull-witted clown was treating me like I was some delinquent.
There was a rock in my chest as I stood, taking two deliberate steps toward the man—to hell with Troy.
Simon stepped calmly between us. “Troy’s been here for about twenty minutes now and we’ve already caught upextensively, haven’t we, Hartman?” His tone was sharp, but I didn’t miss the pleading expression on his face to let it go.
My jaw moved tight but I managed to speak. “Yes.”
Coach’s eyes moved from Ryan to me. “Good. You’re starting. And don’t disappoint.”
“Wait why?” I felt I had every right to ask since Troy never started.
“Because if we bench you, everyone will think we’re avoiding bringing you on. They’ll think you’re our weakness.”
Ryan stepped in. “Coach, I don’t think we should start with Troy. I think we need to end with him.”
“Fine. Whatever. But he’s playing tonight, no question.”
“Of course,” Ryan agreed dutifully.
When he left, I turned to Ryan with steam coming out of my ears. “What the hell?”
“Don’t worry, Derrik is starting on center and he’s good. Coach won’t want to make the switch after intermission. I doubt you’ll make it on tonight. And if you do…” he scanned me and shrugged, “just do whatever the hell it was you did at practice.”
I never answered Ryan when he asked me how I made that shot and if I ever played before. I simply said you’re welcome and walked out that afternoon.
I blinked. “After tonight, Troy is your problem. I’m done.”
Simon and Ryan nodded in acknowledgment.
Minutes later, we were all at the entrance as Simon started a brief strategy huddle. I found myself agreeing with the plan—both internally as an ex-player and as Troy’s stand-in. I had to admit, it was a tiny bit refreshing to be around guys as tall as my six-foot four height.
I heard our cue in the distance followed by immediate cheering. Endless, ear popping cheers as we glided across the ice. Some praising Hartman with motivational signs, others shook heads in disappointment as I went by.
Yeah, I was pretty disappointed in myself too right about now. The hell had I gotten myself into?
I slipped into the plexiglass enclosed bench with a few other players and waited for it to die down. But it only turned into boos when the opposing team took the ice and the teams lined up for face-off.
A rush of adrenaline hit me as the puck dropped. I wasn’t on the ice, this wasn’t my team, and hell this wasn’t even my job, but my eyes were glued to that puck waiting for one of the Blades to hit it off the air and take that first shot.
No luck.
