Authors: MariaLisa deMora
“
Peachy,” was all Jase said, leaning a hip against the wall. They chatted as they waited and he found that most of the players were Canadian or
Swede
, but there were two Americans and a Fin. The language differences between their varied nationalities and the native Russian players would make chatter difficult, but he wasn’t worried. He knew the physicality of the sport was universal.
By the end of that open-sided truck ride, the players’ relationships had begun to gel; then the camaraderie from their hard-skating practices flowed naturally into flawless games. A few of the men were unable to deal with the culture change and bailed, but he found a solid core of players that remained on the team for
game
after game, season after season. Jase was one of those players; he had found a comfortable niche on the team and planned to fill it for the foreseeable future. The money was good, creature comforts were accessible, and hot chicks with zero relationship expectations and little knowledge of English or French were easy to find.
He had been playing in Russia for nearly three years the night he received a phone call from his mother.
Having gone home only a few weeks earlier during the offseason, he was somewhat surprised to hear her voice over the crackling and hissing line, and Jase felt a shiver of fear, immediately knowing the call was bad news.
“
Jase, it’s Mom,” she said, and his breath caught in his throat at the stress in her speech.
“
Ma,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“
Son, it’s Sharon. She’s in the hospital. I wanted to call you before you heard from anyone else. She’s going to be okay, but she’s at Royal
Alexandrea
in Edmonton.” His mother sounded exhausted, about ready to collapse.
“
What happened? Where’s Da?” He was full of questions, but these were enough to begin.
“
Dad’s in with her right now, son. I stepped out to call you.” She took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “She was in a car accident. She’s going to be all right, but she’s
knocked around pretty good
.”
“
I’ll get the first flight home, Ma. I’m so glad you called.” His body sagged against the wall, leaning
on
the flat surface for support.
“
No, Jase. She’ll be out of the hospital before you could even get here,” she argued. “Stay and play, we’ll schedule some phone calls. I know she’ll be right glad to talk to you, but I don’t want you throwing your season away by leaving. You know what they’ll do.”
He did know; he had seen it in action several times as players had family emergencies. They would leave for a couple weeks, but by the time they could return, the slot in the team was full. Negotiations here were different from back home, and he had not seen a player successfully lobby for their position back after missing more than two games.
“
Tell me about the accident.” He sidestepped the conversation about going home, deciding to play that more by ear based on what he could get out of her in the next three minutes.
“
She was leaving work and had just gotten out on the highway at Blackfalds, and some pickup bashed into her car. They hit pretty hard and she lost control, wrapping around an electric pole. The car impacted on the passenger side and her seatbelt saved her. Thank God she was wearing it.” She paused for a second. “Jase, she was OUI.” She didn’t elaborate, just put it out there and let it rest between them.
Oh, God, not again
, he thought, taking several deep breaths.
“
Was she drunk or stoned?” He asked the question in a flat
tone
as if the answer didn’t matter.
“
Both, actually, eh?” She sighed.
“
Jesus Murphy, what was she thinking?” He tipped his head back against the wall in frustration. “You sure you don’t want me home for this, Ma?”
“
I’m sure, Jase. We have things under control for now and she’s okay. She will be okay. I’ll call you again tomorrow, give you a bit of an update, eh?” She took a long, shaky breath.
“
Yeah. Give the old man a
hug
and tell my Sharona I’ll talk to her soonish. Love you, Ma.” He rolled his neck and shoulders, working out the stress and tightness.
“
Je t’aime, Jase.” She disconnected the call and he stood holding the handset for a few minutes.
Giving himself a shake, he brought his attention back to Daniel’s office, realizing he missed a question. “I asked do you want me to do the whole
thing
or pull an agent in for you?”
“I trust you to do the honors,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, you just don’t want to give up the twenty to an agent.” Daniel was joking with him, but there was a seed of truth to the words.
“Twenty percent is a lot to some of us, man,” Jase said, standing to leave. “Thanks again, Daniel. This means the world.”
***
Sitting in the locker room unlacing his skates, Jase found it hard to believe it had only been a month since he first approached Daniel about leaving the Mallets.
Things had moved quickly once Fort Wayne understood he was serious about the trade. Tonight was his last time skating on the Chicago home ice, his last time wearing the green and black colors of the team he had been a part of since returning from Russia at twenty-two, over eight years ago.
The silence
of
the room caught his attention, and he looked up to see team members with phones in hand, their faces turned his way as the
word
of his departure swept through the locker room. He wanted to wait until the last minute to tell everyone, so he didn’t screw up the dynamics of the team for this series. Daniel had managed to get the Fort Wayne and league management to agree to hold the announcement until after tonight’s game was over. He was certain they would have published something by now, and the Mallets fans had probably already picked it up and were retweeting and reposting like mad.
Half of the team was looking at him, but the other
half
were staring over at Daniel,
apparently
assessing his mood. Some of them were probably wondering what had happened between the two men, because their tight friendship had long been a stable foundation for the entire team’s game play.
They were trying to analyze the situation, because while evidently he was traded and had known about it beforehand, he and Daniel together had skated some of their best shifts of the season tonight, and he had been awarded one of the team’s highest honors just before the game.
Slapping the trademark smirk on his face, crooked and full of playful adventure, he slipped off his skates and stood, facing his teammates. “Aww, naw. Come on, none of that, guys. This was my request. I’m ready to move on; you boys just aren’t challenging enough any longer.” His attempt at a joke fell flat and he grimaced.
“I’m kidding. About your skills, ‘cause you got ’em in spades. But, it’s my request. I need a change. And if things work out the way I want, then everything will be worth it. Like
Gretzky
said, ‘You miss
one hundred
percent of the shots you never take’, and I’m taking this
shot
, eh? So, there you go. I’ll need you to wish me luck, tell me to break a leg, chuck a puck, whatever.
“It’s been an absolute honor to share ice with you guys, and I’m proud as hell to have worn the Mallets colors for so many games. We won the fucking playoffs last year, and that’s a memory to hold to, yeah?”
He stepped up on the bench behind him, clutching Gary’s shoulder to steady himself. The man looked furious, and probably had a right to
be,
since he had been kept in the dark along with the rest of the team. The only people he told other than Daniel and Nate had been his parents.
“So tonight let’s go to Jackson’s and celebrate, eh? Get our
celly
on. Fucking win column for my last game here. Couldn’t have asked for a better way to go out, eh? You gotta keep this going too; don’t want Coach here to lose his job.” Laughter scattered across the group and he saw a loosening of tension in jaws and necks as his teammates realized this had been his request, that it wasn’t a trade forced on him by someone supposed to be his friend.
He threw his head back and yelled, “WOOOO!
Fuckin’
win column, baby! Let’s shower and get the hell outta here, so we get our
celly
on.” Hopping down from the bench, he accepted the handshakes and back-pounding hugs from his friends and teammates. Catching Daniel’s eyes from across the room, he nodded at him in thanks, fingering the co-captain patch that had been sewn to his jersey for tonight’s game. Daniel nodded back and then dropped his head, busying himself with his own post-game rituals.
***
Mason stared at him from across the bar, a look of incredulity on his face. “You’re doing what, motherfucker?”
“Moving to Fort Wayne. Starting in two days, I’ll be playing for the Fort Wayne Tridents. Got a condo lined up, furniture rented, eighty-inch flat screen already in place. It’s a fucking palace.” Jase took a drink from his beer, cautiously watching Mason’s face across the rim.
Turning to look at Daniel, Mason narrowed his eyes. “You on board with this, man?” He asked the question casually, but his posture belied that with the muscles in his arms tensing, the side of his jaw ticking with pressure as his teeth
gritted
together.
“Yeah. The man made a convincing argument. I could have forced him to stay and play out his contract, but he’s found something worth fighting for. Seems like he’s willing to make a hell of a sacrifice to see where things go. Kinda reminds me of someone.” Daniel smiled at Mason.
“She
knows
you’re coming?” He directed this question back at Jase, who shook his head.
“We’re talking tonight. I plan on telling her then. She wanted me down for the weekend,” he laughed. “This will just extend the stay indefinitely. I’m not invading her neighborhood; the new condo is a
ten-minute
drive from her apartment, but it’s close enough to be convenient. I figured I’d touch base with Slate as soon as I get into town, see if he can hook me up with someone to keep my riding skills in shape.”
“I’ll let Slate know so he’s expecting you. Birdy’s moving down there, too, so you’ll know a couple of the boys. DeeDee though, that’s all you, man. Respect, Jase. Turning your life upside down for a woman that don’t even know you’re coming is crazy. I hope it works out the way you want.” Here, he leaned closer to Jase, lowering his voice. “But if it doesn’t, then you will leave her the fuck alone. You get in her space unwanted and I
will
fuck you up, friends or not. You fuck her over? I will fuck you
up
. Stay out of club business, keep your goddamn nose clean, don’t fucking shit on her, and we’ll be all fine and dandy. Stray from that path, and we got us
a goddamn
fucking problem. You get me, Jase Spencer?”
Jase felt a kick of fear while Mason was speaking to him. Mason on a rant was frightening, but Mason like this, quietly delivering a threatening promise, was downright terrifying. His balls were trying to escape back up into his belly and his skin rose in goose flesh all over his body.
All he could hear
was Mason, all he could see was Mason, and he knew that his friend meant every word. While it might bother him to do it, he would deliver on every promise if Jase fucked up. Davis Mason was a dangerous man, and it was never smart to lose sight of that fact. Jase had faced and fought some of the fiercest enforcers in both the KHL and AHL, but this man was scary at an entirely different level. He swallowed, his suddenly dry throat clicking as with a serious tone and a steady, slow nod, he responded, “I got you, Mason. I understand, man.”
“Well, all right,” Mason said.
His shoulders and arms relaxed as he leaned back, and with that, the air around them lightened, the noise of the bar rushing back into the vacuum, click and clack of pool balls and murmur of conversation audible again.
“Have a couple of rounds on me, man. Will be strange not seeing your sorry ass around here anymore.”
Setting up several shot glasses on the bar, Mason splashed liquor into the glasses and spoke to Daniel. “Good game tonight, caught the last frame on the box. How does Jase leaving change things for you?”
Daniel launched into an explanation of how Rodney Dahl, a sophomore forward, would be stepping up. Jase watched as other members of the team drifted up, listening while their captain laid out the strategy for the next few games.
He already felt a separation from them, knowing that they would be the ones executing Daniel’s plans, while he would be on the ice in another town with a pack of strangers, their only commonality a love of the game.
Even with these guys, playing alongside some of them for several seasons, he knew that few would make the effort to stay in touch. Their careers were too transient to maintain long-lasting connections.
Small fingers slipped into the back pocket of his jeans and he whipped his arm back, grabbing the hand tightly as he turned around. Shouting with laughter, he wrapped the petite blonde in his arms, picking her up off the floor in a tight hug. Gripping her waist, he lifted her to the bar, setting her beside where Mason was still working on the drinks. “Jessica
Nalan
, I hoped I’d see you tonight.” He grinned at her, laughing as her blue eyes narrowed with a frown.
“Help me down, you Neanderthal,” she scolded him and then grinned, reaching out to playfully slap his face. “I haven’t seen you in too long, Jase. How’s a girl supposed to get her
cockblock
on if she can’t find a cock to block? Hmmmm?”
Next to Mason, Jess was Mica’s best friend, and the girls had worked together since the two of them graduated college. Together, they made up the backbone of Mica’s company, MishMash Development.
Jess was a talented programmer, and Jase had watched her when she was working on the team’s revamped website last year, marveling at how quickly she pulled the various components together while fielding outrageous requests from management and players.