“Yes, sir,” Collin says and they both look at me.
“Chicken it is.”
Shaw nods and gets up. “Hutch, Mendoza, I expect to see you both soon. Don’t screw this up.”
We wait until he’s gone before we start breathing again. Shaw. Fucking. Chandler.
“Fucking hell,” Collin whispers. “He knows our names.”
“Molly,” I holler over the din of noise and she looks up from behind the counter. “Change our order to the chicken.”
She laughs and before too long she’s brought us water with a lemon wedge. “He freak you both out?”
We nod.
“He’s a good guy. Brings his little boy in every week for milkshakes and our chicken fingers. Kid loves them. His wife is a fan of the burgers.”
“Why have we never seen him?”
She shrugs. “He’s good at not being seen unless he wants to be seen.” Her hand waves toward the restaurant. “Not hard to do in a place this busy.”
“The city loves the Raptors. How does no one bother him when he’s here?”
“Tim might have threatened bodily harm to people bothering him while he’s here with his son.”
Tim, AKA the owner, is a big man who we all are a little wary of. He looks like he could kick your ass and laugh while he does it. It keeps most of the jocks in line, especially the ones who think they’re the shit and can do no wrong.
I hate people like that. My mom always says karma will eventually bite them in the ass even if it takes decades to do so.
“What are we going to do?” Collin asks, his voice low and frustrated.
“Coach said they were interested in three guys on the team. Did he ask to speak with anyone else?”
Collin shakes his head. “Unless he talked to whoever it was privately or didn’t say anything because they don’t need to work on shit.”
“Shaw fucking Chandler.” I sit back and stare out the window. “He’s one of the best centers in the NHL and he knows our names.”
“Dude, I’m freaked out enough as it is, stop saying his name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re six and getting your first autograph.”
“Like you’re not the same way.”
“Hey man!”
Carson Wilson rolls to a stop by our table. He’s our goalie. “Coach talk to you two?”
“About the Raptors?”
He nods, his grin so wide, I don’t doubt his face will break if it gets wider. “He told me I needed to work on blocking my left. I thought I’d gotten better, but he doesn’t think so.”
“I need to work on my speed. I’m off by a couple of seconds and Mendoza is letting the offense in on the right side. We have a lot of work to do by the season’s opener.”
“Fuck yeah. I was hoping you guys might help me out.”
“Sure man. We can all practice together, but we’re going to be living on the ice until then. You good with that?”
