Chapter 24
Roman
Stepping off the bus, I follow my teammates almost single file into the Park Hyatt Hotel, exhausted after a brutal game against the Washington Breakers, but all that matters is we came away with the win. I received a small cut on my right cheekbone due to an “altercation” on the ice, but I’m proud to say the other guy looks worse. He got the first punch, but I got the last.
Best of all, this fight was legit, and Gray Brannon can’t give me shit about it. That douche McClenden dropped the gloves first and I was just obliged to take him up on it. No one can argue with my reaction, and the five-minute major penalty was well worth McClenden needing to leave the ice to get stitched up. I was completely fine with a few butterflies one of our trainers slapped onto my tiny cut.
The minute we hit the lobby, fans start calling out to the players, but my name gets called the loudest and by the most people, because even though I’m part of a team that just beat their ass, I used to play for the Breakers before I came to the Cold Fury.
A quick scan of the crowd and I see plenty of my old Breaker jerseys being worn, and that’s because I was revered here. The Breakers built a reputation on gritty, no-holds-barred hockey, and I was the cornerstone of that philosophy. Even the team management turned blind eyes to my antics because deep down they knew it was a necessary part of the game.
Not so much with the Cold Fury, though.
Or at least I’m coming to learn.
“Roman…Roman…can we get an autograph?” I hear someone call out.
Another, “Roman, we miss you.”
And another, “Roman, please take a picture with me.”
With an internal smile, because I don’t want anyone to see I’m still flattered by the love I have from some old fans, I break off from my teammates as they file to the elevators or head over to the group of Cold Fury fans clustered in the lobby. Most are wearing Cold Fury jerseys, but there’s a good chunk of Breakers’ fans who want some of my time, and I’ve never been one to shortchange people who support me.
I notice other pockets of fans throughout, and some of my other teammates also stopping to indulge in photographs and autographs. It’s pretty much the norm after every game, and many fans will book rooms in the team hotel for a chance to get up close and personal with their hockey idols.
There’s a groove I get into, methodically signing jerseys or scraps of paper. Posing for selfies. Accepting handmade gifts or getting hugs from kids. And yes, getting hit on by women—and hell, twice in my career by men. It’s all part of my job.
I spend about ten minutes doing my duties, and as the last of the crowd starts to dissipate, I turn to the last group patiently waiting and sigh quietly when I see two female Breakers fans, both wearing Sýkora jerseys, waiting for me.
And not just any Sýkora jerseys.
These are tight and so formfitting they are leaving nothing to anyone’s imagination as to the size of their breasts or the circumference of their hips. In fact, I’d venture to say they were wearing kids’ jerseys. Both women have long, wavy hair and lots of makeup. Both very beautiful and very sexy, the type I’d have signed whatever they wanted in the privacy of a hotel room in my single days.
Now, that makes me smile.
My single days.
Yup, they’re over, and I’m not missing them at all, even with what’s in front of me right now. In fact, the only thing I can think about is getting this over with so I can get up to my room and call Lexi. She’s working tonight and will be closing up The Grind right around the time I’ll be calling.
“Roman, can we get an autograph and some pictures?” one of the women asks.
“Sure,” I say with a tired smile, and reach out to take the black marker she’s holding. “What would you like me to sign?”
“My jersey,” she says breathlessly.
Now, most fans when they ask you to sign their jersey’s will want it on the back, on one of the smooth fabric numbers that makes for easier signing and a clear autograph. But this woman steps forward, sticks her chest out, and with the tips of her fingers, pulls the tight material over her breasts even tighter.
“If you could sign right here,” she purrs, then nods down to her left breast.
I freeze, not knowing what to do. I’d suspected these ladies might hit on me and I’d graciously slip away from them claiming to be tired or something, but I didn’t figure I’d get slapped with this overt request right in the hotel lobby.
And because I’m so shocked, I can’t even think of how to decline her request, and I lamely mumble, “Okay…sure.”
She scoots closer to me, puffs her chest out more, and looks at me with hot eyes, which makes me feel very uncomfortable. Not because I can’t handle a woman doing this, but because I’m pretty damn sure Lexi would not take kindly to this kind of attention.
Resolved to get this awkwardness over, I uncap the pen and manage to scrawl my signature quickly on the material of her jersey, as high up on her chest as I can. The marker is awkward in my hand, as I’m holding it up high so as not to touch her with anything but the felt tip.
Just as I finish and move my hand away, I look up and past her shoulder to see Gray and Ryker standing across the lobby and staring directly at me. Ryker has an amused look on his face, while Gray is shooting daggers at me, her face a mask of disgust and fury.
The timing of this could not be worse, particularly since Brian Brannon just made a public announcement about Lexi. Until now, I have not been in the media circus, as no one really knows I’m seeing Lexi. But once that gets out, I’m going to be hounded, as will she, and shit like this could blow up into a mess.
Shit, I’m stupid.
Shit, shit, shit.
Another sigh, this one not so quiet, and I cap the marker with a heavy feeling on me. I hand it back to the woman, mumble some shit about I need to get going, and then turn away from her. Instead of heading toward the elevators, which would take me right by Gray and Ryker, I move in the opposite direction to the open bar area of the lobby.
I take a seat at the mostly deserted bar, order a beer, and then pull my phone out of my pocket. While the bartender pours my draft, I type a text to Lexi.
Just had some woman ask me to sign her jersey. On her chest. I freaked, blanked, and then did it because I didn’t know what to say. Gray saw me. She looks pissed. Figured you might hear from her about it so wanted to give you a heads-up. Now in the bar and having a quick beer. Will call you soon.
I hit Send and set the phone down on the bar. The bartender slides my beer to me, I fish a ten-dollar bill out of my wallet and hand it to him.
Just as I finish my first sip, I see Lexi’s return text pop up. Picking up my phone, I smile as I read her response.
Poor baby. Must be hard to be so sought after by the ladies. Enjoy your beer. Talk soon. XOXO
Damn, she’s like the fucking perfect woman and I’m not sure what I did to deserve her. I’ve not had the best track record when it comes to treating women right, so karma seems a little out of whack in my opinion, but I’m not going to turn my nose up at the gift of Lexi that’s been given to me.
“Well, that was an awkward moment,” I hear from behind me. I don’t turn around because I recognize Ryker’s voice.
He takes a seat on the stool next to me and the bartender approaches. Ryker waves him off and says, “I’m not staying.”
I take another sip of beer, this one bigger, and stare down into the amber liquid, hoping that maybe Ryker will just go away.
It’s not that I don’t like him, because I really, really do. He’s one of the all-time greatest goalies, and his performance is one of the major things that helped us secure the Stanley Cup last year. He’s a seasoned veteran with a good head on his shoulders. Nice guy too. All the guys look up to him.
About the only thing I might question is his sanity in getting involved with Gray Brannon, because she’s a woman that I just don’t understand or connect with, but whatever…to each his own.
“Sucks, buddy,” Ryker says, and even claps his hand on my shoulder. This causes me to turn my head to glare at him, but he just grins at me. “Having women throw themselves at you, even though you’re securely off the market.”
“What makes you think I’m off the market?” I growl at him, hoping he gets offended by my failure to reassure him that I’d never cheat on Lexi.
That just makes him laugh. “You’re off the market because guys who give their girls pink teddy bears wouldn’t consider dipping their wicks into some strange.”
“Would you speak English for fuck’s sake,” I grumble again, but I have to take another sip of my beer because I almost chuckled at his attempts to lighten the mood.
“Don’t worry about Gray,” Ryker says, and that piques my attention. I turn to look at him again. “She knows that’s part of the life…dealing with that crap.”
“But she doesn’t trust me to do right by Lexi,” I say grimly.
“She doesn’t know anything but your past reputation,” he counters. “Give her time.”
I stare at Ryker for a moment, and yeah…I really like this guy. But sadly, I can’t say the same for his wife, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get there. I don’t tell him that, though, as Ryker’s likely to throw a punch at me if I did. Instead, I say before turning to back to my beer, “Appreciate the advice.”
“Sure you do,” he says with a laugh, then claps me on the shoulder one more time as he stands from the stool. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad to see you and Lexi together. She clearly adores you.”
I try to ignore the warm feeling that statement produces in my chest, but I do look up at him and smile. “Thanks. I’ll deny it if you repeat this, but I really like her too. I would never abuse her trust.”
“I know,” he says genially. “I could tell you were totally uncomfortable with that situation. Gray may not have seen it, but fuck…I’ve been in that situation, and it sucks balls.”
“What in the hell should I have done?” I ask, curious now that I know Ryker’s been through this.
“You just have to be ready for it, and when you’re asked to do things out of your comfort zone, learn to gracefully come up with a work-around. It will come more naturally to you the more it happens.”
“I don’t want it to happen,” I grumble. “In the future, I think I’ll just head straight to my room from the bus.”
Ryker laughs and shakes his head. “You’ll never do that because you don’t want to deprive the kids and legit fans. Just have a canned response ready. Something like, ‘Sorry…I don’t think my girlfriend would like that.’ That covers a wide variety of situations.”
Hmmmm…that does sound pretty simple, and I vow to myself I’ll do that the next time.
“Thanks for the advice,” I tell him as I stand from my stool. I pick up my beer, take one more chug, and put the half-empty glass back onto the bar. Turning to Ryker, I say, “Now, Lexi’s expecting my call, and while I enjoyed chatting with you, I’d much rather be talking to her.”
Ryker snorts and we turn to walk to the elevators together.