Ice Time (3 page)

“Eat, sleep, play hockey — repeat.” He grinned as André gave him a high-five.

“You can love the game,” Megan said, “without risking your whole future. Think of all the guys who spent years trying to make it and had nothing to show for it when they didn’t. You could be thirty years old, with no education and no job. And if you’re seriously injured, then what?”

“Ya, keep your head up, bro,” André said.

“And two hands on the stick,” Nigel said.

“It ain’t over till it’s over,” Bird added.

“That’s more of a baseball saying, but it works,” Rocket said.

“How about, it ain’t over till the fat lady sings?” Bird asked.

“Never understood that one, but it’s inspiring,” Rocket said.

Megan rolled her eyes. “Very funny, gentlemen. But I’m serious, Bryan. I’m proud of you for finishing high school—”

“What choice did I have? You and Maddy would’ve killed me if I hadn’t.”

“Fair enough,” Megan said. “I’m just saying, don’t stop there. Get more university credits, get a degree, even if it takes a few extra years. Then, if hockey doesn’t work out, you have a plan B.”

“Is this your idea of a pep talk?” Rocket said.

“It’s my idea of common sense.”

Her eyes were fixed and hard, no trace of humour. None of the guys he’d played with put much effort into school. Most had done just enough to finish high school.

“Bird, Nigel, you’re both in engineering, right?” Rocket said.

They nodded.

“You have four years of school to get your degree, and then you get a job.”

“I might spend another year or two to get my master’s and then look for a job, but that’s about right,” Nigel said.

“Okay, so however many years it is, how much is it costing you?” Rocket said.

“Don’t ask,” Bird said. “Tens of thousands.”

“And what kind of money can you make?”

“I’m not sure,” Nigel said. “First job might start at about fifty thousand.”

Rocket looked triumphantly at Megan. “In one year in the NHL, I’ll make more than they get in ten.”

“That’s if you make it,” she said.

“You don’t think I will?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Because I’m too small?”

“Bryan, I—”

“My family needs this. I need this. I’m close. I know it,” Rocket said. “Now’s the time to work five times harder. I’ll outwork the whole league, and when I get my next shot I won’t blow it.”

A few people at nearby tables looked over. He’d said that too loudly.

“Anyway, I should get going,” Rocket said, standing up. “I’m leaving for Pinewood tomorrow morning. I’m lucky — I’m getting a lift with another guy on the team. I’ve barely seen my mom and Maddy, so … I’ll have to catch up with you guys another time.”

“Bryan, I didn’t mean to … You just got here,” Megan said.

“It’s not that. Forget it. You guys have a great term at school, and we’ll see each other …” He had no clue when he’d see them all again. They led such different lives.

“We can walk with you to the subway,” Megan said.

“I know where it is,” Rocket said.

Her face fell.

“I’m kidding. I … I got to run to a store or two and then get back to my mom’s place. You guys may as well stay here.”

An uncomfortable silence followed.

“I’ll get out for a game once I figure out my schedule,” André said.

“Awesome. Let me know when, and I’ll score some tickets,” Rocket said.

“Cool.” André nodded.

“Take care, guys. Go engineering!” Rocket fist-bumped Nigel and Bird. “See ya, Megan.”

She looked up. Her eyes were red. “Good luck,” she said quietly.

“Thanks.” Rocket looked around at his friends again. “Bye, guys.”

He felt bad about Megan, but she just didn’t get it. There was no plan B. It was the NHL or … He couldn’t finish the thought. If he didn’t make the NHL, then what else could he do? A feeling of dread spread in the pit of his stomach.

He was afraid. What would happen if Landry never trusted his defence? He could spend years in Pinewood, waiting for a call-up that never came. His speed and puck skills had always been the great equalizers, the reasons he’d beaten the odds despite being the smallest guy on the ice.

But speed and skill might not be enough this time.

Rocket craned his neck. Still no car in sight. If this Rory Colbert guy blew him off, Rocket was in trouble. Only two buses went to Pinewood a day, one early in the morning and the other late at night. The first had already gone. The second wouldn’t get there until after midnight, and he didn’t have a place to stay.

“I really wish you had the name of a hotel,” Risa said.

She’d been obsessing over where he’d stay since he got home yesterday.

“It’s all organized,” he said.

Very not true, but he didn’t want his mom to worry. He was worried enough about just getting there. The Racers had a practice tomorrow morning at ten, and the general manager’s email had made it clear they expected him to be on time.

Two vehicles approached. The first was a van, white and shiny and very new. The second was a small red old-model Toyota with a banged-up bumper. The van drove by. The Toyota pulled over. The window rolled down.

“Is there a Bryan Rockwood here?”

“That would be me.”

Rory got out. He was a big guy, solid and thick, a touch under six feet. They shook hands. Rocket introduced his mom and Maddy, and Rory shook their hands, too.

“Thank you so much for giving Bryan a lift,” Risa said.

“Not a problem. Lucky we’re both going today. This came out of the blue for me. I’ve been working out all summer, and my agent’s been calling and calling teams. Then Pinewood suddenly invited me out. I guess they’ve had a couple of injuries.” Rory shrugged. “Part of the game, I guess. One guy’s bad luck is another guy’s opportunity.”

“Have you played for this team before?” Risa asked.

Rory made a sour face. “Last team I played for was in the NHL, for three seasons. Then I blew my right knee out. That was two years ago. This is a bit of a comeback for me, I guess.”

“Rory Colbert! I’m so dumb,” Rocket said. “You played for the Rangers, right wing. I remember hearing you were out. How’d it happen?”

“It was kind of a nothing play. I came in on the forecheck, defenceman rang it around the wall, and I followed through on the hit.” Rory shook his head. “Maybe I hit a rut or something, but I felt a burning in my knee. Next thing I know, I’m being carted off the ice.”

“Brutal,” Rocket said.

“Yep.” Rory nodded. “Anyway, I guess we should get going.”

Risa teared up.

“Pinewood’s only a couple hours away,” Rocket said softly. He gave her a hug.

“Me, too,” Maddy said. They hugged.

“Life of a hockey player,” Rory said. “Always on the move. My wife hates it.”

“It must be hard on her,” Risa said.

“She’s tough.”

“Where’d you meet?” Maddy asked.

“Maddy, we have to go!” Rocket said.

Rory laughed. “It’s okay. Melissa and I actually started going out in grade nine. Crazy, eh? We have a little girl now, Angela. She’s eleven months.”

“Oh my gosh, still a baby,” Risa said. “Melissa will have her hands full. They’re not coming to Pinewood?”

“We’ll see. Her parents are here in town, and so are her friends. She’d be alone in Pinewood, and with road trips and stuff, we figured she should stay here until things are more settled.”

“Any pictures of Angela?” asked Maddy.

Rory pulled out his phone.

“So cute,” Maddy gushed.

“She’s adorable,” Risa said. “I assume that’s mommy.” She pointed at the woman in the photo.

“That’s my Melissa.”

Rocket snuck a look. Angela was pretty cute. In the picture, she sat happily perched on Melissa’s knees.

He turned to Rory, “Should I put my stuff in the trunk?”

“It’s packed with my stuff,” Rory said. “Toss it in the back seat.”

Rocket picked up his hockey bag and sticks and grabbed his suitcase with his other hand.

“This is really nice of you, Rory,” Risa said. “And it’s great that Bryan will know someone on the team before he starts.”

Rocket opened the car door and put his stuff in.

“Takes me back,” Rory said. “I spent two seasons in the AHL, too.” His face darkened. “Hopefully, I’ll move up sooner this time.” He took his keys out of his pocket and got in the car. “It was nice to meet you both,” he said through the window.

Rocket opened the passenger door. “I’ll text you when I get there,” he said to his mom and Maddy.

He got in and waved. Then Rory turned the car on and they drove off. Rocket could see his family in the side mirror, still waving.

“Sorry about all the questions,” Rocket said.

“No problem. Coaches talk about the team being a family. It’s not true. I learned that the hard way. Your mom and Maddy? They’re your family. They’ll be there for you long after hockey is done. The NHL is a business, and we’re nothing but pieces of meat. You can’t play, you get tossed in the garbage. That’s just the way it is.”

Rocket didn’t know what to say.

“I never would’ve made it back to this point without my family supporting me,” Rory said. “I know this is my last shot, though. I’ve been out too long.”

Rocket thought about Megan. “I guess hockey has to end sometime.”

“All I’ve ever done is play,” Rory said. “I thought I’d have at least ten years in the NHL. Now look at me, a gimpy knee and a wife and a baby. This wasn’t the plan.”

“Your knee’s probably stronger than before, with all the working out.”

“Take care of your body,” Rory said. “That’s the best advice I can give. Don’t let anyone force you to take chances with your health. I’d hurt the knee a few games before, but the training staff convinced me it would be fine. Turned out I had stretched some ligaments, which weakened the knee. I was in the final year of my contract, too. They put me on waivers when they knew how serious it was. No one picked me up, so basically, I’m a free agent.”

Rory paused and then laughed. “Hey, bro, sorry for all this wailing about poor me. It’s still hockey. We’ll have some fun on the ice and kick some butt. And it’ll be cool to be back in the room with the boys. I love Angela, but I’m not going to miss changing diapers.”

Rocket laughed, happy to lighten the mood.

Rory shifted in his seat and winced. “Do you drive, by any chance?”

“Sorry. We don’t have a car. I never got my licence.”

“No big deal. Just hoped you could drive at some point. My knee’s bugging me. Whatever. You want to listen to some tunes?”

“Sure.”

“What’re you into?”

“Whatever you like.”

Rory took out his phone. “Let’s go with some old-school R&B to set the tone, then we’ll drift into some house and electronica. Cool?”

“Sounds good.”

Rory turned up the volume.

Rocket looked out the window. His nerves kicked up. Rory’s story had shaken him. One injury and it could be all over.

Rocket was almost disappointed when they pulled up in front of the Pinewood Barns Arena. Rory was a great guy, and they’d ended up talking a lot more than listening to music.

It turned out Rory was just as nervous as Rocket — and just as eager to catch the big club’s attention. They both wanted to play hard and move up.

“You sure this is where they told you to go?” Rory said.

They hadn’t told Rocket anything, but he didn’t want to hold Rory up. It was nice enough that he’d given him a ride. Rocket grabbed the handles of his hockey bag and suitcase.

“I’m good. See you at tomorrow’s practice. And thanks again,” Rocket said.

After Rory left, Rocket rolled his bags into the arena lobby. A man and a woman were chatting by the ticket booth, their heads close together.

“Excuse me, do you know where I’d find the Pinewood Racers’ office?” Rocket said.

The man pointed to a set of stairs. “Up there.”

“Are you with the team?” Rocket said.

“I’m the arena manager,” the man said. “We’re with Floyd Entertainment.”

“Do you mind if I leave my stuff here? I have to speak to someone in the office.”

The man shrugged and turned back to the woman.

“Tell the staff to come early tomorrow,” he said to her. “Floyd wants the offices cleaned.”

“We just did them.”

“Floyd said the dust bothers Queen Stella.”

Rocket climbed the stairs as he listened to them. He’d done some online research about the Racers. The Floyd family had owned the team for something like forty years. Raymond Floyd was the president and executive general manager. Kirk Blywood was the general manager. Rocket had no idea about this Queen Stella.

Upstairs, a woman was vigorously mopping the hallway. Rocket knocked on Blywood’s office door.

“No one is in,” the woman said.

“Thanks,” Rocket told her. He texted Blywood. He didn’t hold out much hope for a response, since the guy hadn’t returned any of his texts today.

He should have listened to his mom. Stupid to just show up. Blywood could be anywhere.

Rocket went back down to the lobby. The man and the woman were gone.

“Thanks for watching my stuff,” he muttered.

He sighed and rolled his neck, then googled
hotels in pinewood
.

Hotels were expensive. He tapped on the cheapest, which was eighty-nine dollars a night. There was no way he could afford to stay there for more than a day or two. He’d have to catch Blywood before practice in the morning to ask for some recommendations.

Rocket wheeled his stuff over to the main street to hail a cab. He had no idea where the hotel was. It hadn’t looked far on the map, but it was hard to tell.

He waited and waited, but no cabs went by. Finally, after ten irritating minutes, he searched for a company on his phone, filled out a request form and sent it in.

Using his hockey bag for a seat, Rocket scrolled through the Pinewood Racers’ website to pass the time. Their leading scorer was Cam Conner, and he looked like a serious player. He’d been in the AHL for almost ten seasons and had been an all-star a bunch of times. Over the years, he’d also played some games in the NHL.