Play On (28 page)

Goal, with fourteen seconds left of the power play.

The crowd jumped up and started cheering.

The Gulls skated over to their teammate and started tapping him on his helmet, pulling him into quick hugs.

“That kid,” Jeremy said over the roar of the crowd, “is the one to watch.  I’m telling you.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile as her eyes took in the pure and utter happiness written on Kyle’s face.  She knew this wasn’t his first season of hockey, and yet every time he scored, it was as if he was a kid who just found out he was going to Disneyland.  And his delight caused Emma, and probably lots of others, to feel that ecstasy as well.

“Speaking of which,” Jeremy said as the crowd quieted and sat down once again, “how was your dinner last night?  Don’t give me that look Emma.  Surely you had to know I’d figure it out.  He pretty much wrote it on the stick he gave you.”

Emma felt herself blushing at her father’s question, but he was right.  She couldn’t deny it.

“We thought it would be better if we were friends,” she managed to say.  The Shark who had been occupying the penalty box got up and skated out onto the ice, taking his position as the referee dropped the puck.  “He’s young, doing what he loves to do, and has no intention of settling down any time soon.  And, well, you know me.  I’m a dancer and that’s a top priority.  Dating could possibly distract me, and I don’t want to take that chance.”

Her father made a sound that didn’t sound as if he fully believed her reasoning, but he didn’t question her.  Instead, he leaned back in his chair.

“That’s probably for the best,” he agreed.  “I really like the kid now, and I’m not sure how I would feel about him if the two of you were dating.  I’d probably want to injure him, which would hurt our first line.”

“Well, I’m glad you don’t have to go through that,” Emma said flatly.

              Almost as though he knew the two were talking about him, Kyle looked across the ice from his place on the Gulls’ bench and locked eyes with Emma.  He gave her a small, knowing smile and she felt herself reciprocate the gesture.  She even mouthed ‘Congratulations’ to which he tilted his head down in a mock-bow.  Looking away, Emma pointedly ignored the slight skip in her heart and instead focused on the game before her.

“Who is Dimitri Petrov?” Emma asked, needing to distract herself from a particular player who was trying to fully consume her thoughts.  “And why was he on the ice during the power play?  He’s a forward, right?  Why didn’t the coach send in a second defenseman like normal?”

As Jeremy explained that Dimitri Petrov was a fan favorite right wing defenseman for the second line, that he was pushing forty but still one of the most dominating players on the ice, not just as a Gull but among all clubs in the league.  He was warm, friendly, and never rejected a fan wanting an autograph or a picture.  He was also from Russia, so when he spoke, it was hard to understand him.  The reason Wayne put him in the play instead of a defenseman was because the power play afforded them a better opportunity to score so the coach wanted a good number of forwards rather than defensemen.

“Another thing about Petrov,” Jeremy added as an afterthought.  “He’s sort of like the spirit of the team.  See the A he wears on his jersey?  It stands for alternate.  So if anything happened to Peters, Petrov would take over.”

Emma nodded.  More information to take in.  Power plays, second lines.

And then she saw Kyle with the puck and forgot everything her father had just told her.  

21
.
 
So it was probably a good thing that no one walked in Seraphina’s office due to the fact the woman was huddled over her desk, completely asleep.  The morning’s meeting with Detective Christopher Williams and the subsequent discussion with Katella left her feeling exhausted.  She drank two more cups of coffee before heading into work that morning, determined to expand her hockey knowledge by reading, and accumulating more information on her player’s stats.  She wanted to figure out what happened to her grandfather but it wasn’t likely she would get any information from numbers and a description of different plays.

She managed to gain some headway, so she took a break during lunch.  Again, the media was waiting out front of the Sea Side Ice Palace, so she grabbed an intern and sent him out to Olive Garden for some macaroni and cheese and some milk.  As she waited, she pulled out a book she read for fun – the latest Meg Cabot – and tried to block out the many questions swimming through her mind about Papa, Thorpe, and even
Alan.  When the intern returned, he seemed hesitant.

“What’s wrong?” Seraphina asked, opening the
styrofoam box.

“You might want to check out The Register’s website,” he said, scratching the back of his head.  A nervous gesture, Seraphina realized.  He turned around and headed outside before Seraphina could ask further questions, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Well, that was weird,” she murmured to herself, her mouth filled with cheesy pasta.

But she decided to take the kid’s advice.

Seraphina never thought she was intimidating.  In fact, she had hoped that she came off as warm and approachable.  She wanted her employees to come to her with problems or suggestions.  On a more selfish note, Seraphina wanted her employees to actually take her seriously, but not to the point where they ran away from her.

Her mind halted.

There, on the front page of The Register’s website, was a video featuring Alan Brown, her uncle.  The uncle that had been the police’s primary suspect up until they decided they had more evidence to get Brandon Thorpe.

“What the…”

Seraphina glanced around, and then chided herself for making sure she had privacy.  The video was on the web; apparently, people knew about it even before she did.  She would have to leave a message on Katella’s phone to check it out after her Katella’s one o’clock meeting.  But first, she would have to figure out just what this video was about.

She didn’t know why she hesitated.  She was afraid of what he would say.

She clicked the play button and held her breath.

Shouts from the press that hounded a well-dressed
Alan – probably suspecting the media would want to speak to him, or maybe he called them himself – asked him multiple questions: did he do it; how did he feel to be a suspect in his father’s murder case; how did it feel knowing his niece inherited the team over him; how did he feel with Brandon Thorpe being a suspect.  Granted, Alan waited until they quieted down.  He always did like to make people wait, to make an impression that showcased him being more important than he really was.

“I am pleased that Detective Williams and the Newport Beach Police Department has ruled me out as a suspect,”
Alan began in a clear, firm voice.  “I understand that they were just doing their job so there are no hard feelings from me.  I am hoping now the police can focus their attention on the person who actually committed this devastating tragedy.  Brandon Thorpe is an amazing hockey player, essential to the Gulls’ success.  If it is true that he, indeed, did kill my father, I hope he is punished at the fullest extent of the law.  I want justice for my father, and for my family.”

Seraphina snorted.  When did he ever care about her and her sister?  Or even Ryan, for that matter.

“I am somewhat disappointed that Seraphina Hanson, my youngest niece, inherited the Newport Beach Seagulls.  While she is brilliant, she is also young and naïve, and perhaps the best thing for everyone, including herself and for the team, would be to sell it.  As noted by the past few preseason games, it is easy to tell that she is not handling my father’s death well, especially by publicly supporting Brandon Thorpe.  I’m not certain why she did that – though he is rather easy on the eyes isn’t he?”  The media chuckled at the insinuation and Seraphina couldn’t help but turn red.  “But it’s just another action that shows her ignorance.  In fact, I’m going to look into my grandfather’s mental health around the time he made this will.  If Seraphina doesn’t step down as owner, I might have to challenge my father’s decision in court.”

This, of course, sent a flurry of questions directed at
Alan, but he was finished speaking.  He placed his note cards in the pocket of his jacket lapel and walked away, which was where the video stopped.

There were too many things to feel. 
Too many questions.  Her eyes were bombarded with tears that so desperately wanted to fall, but a measure of defense refused to let them.

The first thought that crossed Seraphina’s mind was the fact that if
Alan actually pursued challenging the will, he would get nothing.  Didn’t he know that?  Did it matter, though?  Could he say he was doing something without really doing it?  Perhaps he wanted to turn the public against her, not that that would be difficult.  There was always some comment about how she was royally screwing this up.

Seraphina called Katella and left a voice message.  “Hey, it’s me.  There’s something you need to see.  I’m sending you the link right now.  Call me when you get this.”

A couple of tears managed to slip past their barricades, and she allowed herself a few, long moments to feel sorry for herself.  In essence, Alan was right.  Seraphina was in way over her head.  She didn’t know what she was doing.  Publicly defending Thorpe was the right thing to do – she knew that.  But she also knew that people wouldn’t see it that way.  Sure, the players on the team and the coaching staff would appreciate it, hopefully, but people on the outside were going to judge her.  Perhaps if she was older, had more experienced, had thick skin, she could handle it.  But honestly, she just graduated college, unsure of what she was going to do in her life when suddenly thrust into this management position she really didn’t want which.  She knew she would make mistakes but she didn’t realize that every mistake would be publicly criticized, scrutinized, and then she would be crucified on a constant basis.

She wasn’t prepared for this.

She didn’t know what to do.

So she cried and cried, thankful that maybe her staff was too intimidated to come in and interrupt her, to ask her a question about something.  She just wanted to be alone.

It wasn’t long before Katella called her younger sister and calmed her down.  Seraphina didn’t feel comfortable enough to share her worries with anybody else except for Katella, and her sister was always there, rationally explaining that Seraphina could do this.  Sometimes she would give her encouraging quotes, other times she would let her younger sister talk, mostly in circles.  It always worked though, and by the time Seraphina hung up, her confidence was pieced back together.  Tattered and not fully formed, but much better compared right after Alan’s video.

Seraphina finished her pasta even though it was cold and then resumed her work.  But now, it was harder to concentrate, and before Seraphina realized it, she was fast asleep.

No one would blame her.  She’d been dealing with a lot.

Actually, scratch that –
everyone
would blame her.  She couldn’t drink a cup of coffee without being criticized about the type of coffee she was drinking, how she was holding her cup, anything they could get her on.

How could these people hate her without even knowing her?

It was the vibration of her cell phone that woke her up.  When she saw that it was Katella calling and seeing that it was just after five thirty on her computer screen, Seraphina shot up, threw away her trash from lunch, and dashed out of her office and down towards the rink.  She slid in her seat a minute and eight seconds into the game, just in time to see Alec Schumacher and a Shark get into a fistfight.

“You have a knack for appearing at just the right minute, don’t you?” Katella murmured
, her lips curled up into a smirk.  Her forest green eyes sparkled as she took in the brawl, but Seraphina noticed a sheen of worry encasing that delighted sparkle as well.  It was as though Katella couldn’t decide whether she was excited for the fight or upset because she knew someone would end up hurt.

“It’s not even two minutes into the first period,” Seraphina complained.  “What happened?”

“Considering the Shark is the one taking the penalty,” Katella said, “I’m guessing that the Shark was mouthing to Alec off so Alec mouthed off back, but you know Alec; the guy has a knack for saying the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time in order to piss his opposition off.  Besides Gordon Stash, I think Alec is the Gull with the most penalty minutes.”

It was at that point in their conversation that Kyle Underwood scored the goal during the power play, and both sisters stopped talking, jumped up, and cheered.

When the stadium quieted and Henry Wayne made quick changes before the ref dropped the puck at the centerline, the crowd sat down.  Seraphina turned towards her sister.  “Which one is Gordon Stash again?” Seraphina gently gnawed on her bottom lip.  She knew she should know who Gordon Stash was; she had heard his name before.  But for the life of her, she could not remember his face or what he was known for.

“The fans love him,” Katella replied.  “He’s a fourth-line center and he’s known for two things.”  She started counting the reasons on her long fingers.  “That black handlebar moustache he sports throughout the entire season and his fighting.  He doesn’t ever start fights unless provoked or if one of his teammates is provoked, but, I mean look at the guy.”  She gestured at a man on the ice.  “His presence on the ice is intimidating.  He really doesn’t have to fight to scare the other team.”