“Theycan,thanks to a clause in my contract, apparently. I've got no idea why I pay my agent so much, man. Slick Rick is a scrub.”
The story didn't add up for Radar. “But why are they after you? They haven't said anything to the rest of us, have they?”
“I don't know if I'm allowed to say,” Lance said, casting a look at the team captain. Shea hadn't told the rest of the team about his decision yet.
“Hell, it's alright,” Shea said. “Word's going to get around sooner or later. I'm retiring at the end of the season, boys.”
The group reacted with a mix of surprised gasps, andmaybe on second thoughtnot-so-surprised mumbles. They patted the veteran on the back and all congratulated him on onehellof a career.
“Yeah, yeah,” Shea grunted, though he struggled to hide an innocent smile. “I'm not out the door just yet. Still plenty of hockey left this year, boys.”
Radar was able to fill in the blanks. “So, Shea's retiring, which means we'll need a new captain next season. And the obvious choice is Lance, but ownership doesn't like what you post on your social media?”
Lance nodded. “Yep. So the team brought in this PR firm to clean up my image.”
“And they think they're going to be able to do that with pictures ofcats?” Ilya asked, slack-jawed.
Radar clapped Lance on the back. “Ol' Captain Cat Meme here is going to lead us to glory.”
Shea's smile grew. “The PR guy even pulled up the infamous picture of Lance's pin-pricked condom in front of Mr. Tremblay.”
The group of athletes roared with laughter.
“I still can't believe your ex did that,” Radar said, still laughing. “And hell,I'mthe one who was always telling you that she was after your money.”
“Yeah, but are they evernot?” Lance asked sincerely. He didn't necessarily think it was a bad thing that women were attracted to him because of his money—for a famous multi-millionaire, that was just a fact of life, maybe even one of the many perks of being a star athlete.
“Sure, some women aren't in it for the money,” Radar said.
“Like who?” Lance barked back.
But the realization dawned on him in an instant … wasn't that why he was bringing the boys out to this specific bar in the first place? What was it that he liked about that cute girl with the southern accent, anyway? Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't fawned over his celebrity, his money. She hadn't even bothered toaskhim about it at all. It was like she didn't care one bit.
The shy forward, Josh Stone, finally spoke up with a wise-crack. “Yoursister, for one.”
The teammates erupted once more.
“Walked right into that one, didn't I?” Lance had to admit with a smile.
The Brawlers continued to plod further downtown, the snow crunching beneath their shoes.
“Where's this restaurant at, Lance?” Brooks asked. “I'm starving. We should've taken a cab.”
“Trust me, we're close.”
The brick building came into view. The aesthetically simple signage, hanging above the entrance, read in a jazzy cursive:Zickell's Bar and Grill.
Lance stopped and swung the door open. “Here we are, boys.”
“Zickell's,” Ilya read aloud. “Haven't we been here before?”
“Have we? Huh, I dunno,” Lance lied.
“Shouldn't you know?” Brooks said. “You're the one who dragged us out here.”
“Whatever. Let's eat.” Lance held the door for his teammates. One by one, they filed past. Lance's heart quickened while he waited, excitedlythump-thump-thumpingin his chest. Which was kind of ridiculous because he knew there was basicallynochance of seeing her here …
But where the hell else would he look to find her?
