Chapter 6

The Saturday before Thanksgiving rolled around and the Penguins were killing us. I hated early afternoon games. I felt like I wasn’t in my groove yet. Plus, I hadn’t seen Jennie in almost a week, since we’d been on the road. She didn’t travel to our away games, and aside from one quick text, I hadn’t even spoken to her.

To add insult to injury, I was on my way to the sin bin. The Pen’s captain was a class A pansy with a ton of talent. The talent I respected, the constant crying to the refs I did not. Into the box I went for a phantom hit to Syd’s head. He’d had the puck, and it was a clean check to the boards that went nowhere near his head, but Syd was protected. The face of the NHL. Syd had embellished the hit. There was no way the refs didn’t know that, but they’d already made the call. They weren’t going to take it back, but chances were we’d get a makeup penalty later in the game. As welcome as that would be, it still took me off the ice for two minutes.

Liam Bucknell, one of our forwards, threw my helmet to me that I’d stupidly removed when I’d tried to drop gloves with Syd. Of course he’d never fight me. He was a shit stirrer with no backing to his taunts. I’d never respected a player like that, but every team had them. Including ours. His name was Rammer. Technically his name was Scott Rammstein. Of course I didn’t hate him. He was one of our own.

At any rate, I should have known better than to rough up the golden boy. I’d take my two-minute time-out and turn it into something positive. It was all I could do. I counted down the seconds as I watched our boys hold off the Pens with a man down. Penalty kills were a specialty of ours. Me being taken off left five Penguins on the ice but only four Breakers.

I watched anxiously as our Bucknell stripped the puck from Hagelin and made his way to the other end of the rink. He released the puck, and it hit the back of the net, much to Pittsburgh’s goalie’s dismay. A shorty. Short-handed goals were a thing of beauty—if you were the team who had scored them. Fuck yeah, go Breakers!

There was still over a minute of power play time left for the Pens, but you could see their defeat in the way they skated. They sat back on their heels, skating a bit slower—a bit more defensive instead of offensive. Music to my…eyes. We were still down by two goals with only ten minutes left in the game, but it wasn’t an impossible deficit to overcome.

The official in the sin bin got my attention and pointed to the clock. As if I wasn’t glued to it. I looked at my teammates and the position of the puck on the ice. Everyone was aware of the penalty clock. When it got down to five seconds or so, our goalie would bang his stick to alert our players on the ice that the power play was almost over. Best case scenario, someone would hit it in the direction of the penalty box, and I’d have a chance of taking it down the ice to, at the very least, get a shot on goal on my way out to join the game. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

Today it did. In my signature move, I slapped it in from the blue line, and now there was only one goal left to go in order to tie the game.

Jennie

Holy shit, I was going to have a heart attack. When Mags left the penalty box, Malkin was right there to meet him. He was another great player for the Pens that I loved to hate. Magnus grabbed the puck while simultaneously shoving Malkin hard, shoulder to shoulder. The hit threw Malkin off balance just enough to give Mags time to get his shot off. It was a strong shot, as most of his were from his favorite shooting point—his sweet spot. More importantly, it went in. I laughed and screamed, alone in my apartment.

Izzy was usually my hockey pal, but she spent Saturday afternoons with her grandfather at his nursing home. No doubt they were cheering right along with me.

Izzy and her grandfather had shared a small apartment up until about six months ago when his Alzheimer’s became too much for her to handle. It was just her and him, and even though he still had more good days than bad, he needed around-the-clock care, which she wasn’t able to provide while she was at work. The nursing home wasn’t the ideal situation, but they’d both adjusted to it.

My phone chimed, and I knew who it was without looking. No sooner had I hit the answer call button and put it to my ear than I heard her squeal. “Did you freaking see that? Pop cheered so loud one of the nurses came running in. Lucky for us it was Louise. She loves him so she just winked at him and shut the door. She knows how much my Pop enjoys his sports.”

“Of course I saw it! And give Pop a smooch for me.”

“Will do. Do you want to stay on the phone for the rest of the game? Commercial break’s almost over.”

That was my best friend right there. Making sure I had company any time she could, even if it was only watching TV together via the phone. “No, that’s okay. Enjoy your time with Pop. We still on for tonight, though?”

“You know it, sister. Dinner at Goodfellows and then a trip to the Harley shop, right? I need that new jacket I saw there.”

The Harley shop in question was where I’d bought my current bike. I was the proud owner of an HD Softail Slim. I loved that bike. It was currently getting mini ape hangers installed. The handle bars it had come with weren’t comfortable for me, so I’d decided to change them. I was also having a bit more chrome added here and there. A girl needed a pretty bike. I was somewhat hoping it wouldn’t have been ready for pickup yet, but it was. These days were not nice for riding. Thank God it wasn’t a long trek home.

“Sounds like a plan. What time do you think you’ll be here? Pretty sure we’ll have to hit Harley first. They close earlier this time of year.”

“I can be there about three. Is that too early?”

“No, that’s perfect if you don’t mind an early dinner. The shop’s open until four.”

Pop was grumbling in the background. The game was back on and he wanted Izzy off the phone. I laughed at his antics. She whispered, “I have to go, Jen. The natives are getting restless. Go Breakers!” And then she was gone.

After the very non-exciting end of the game, which the Breakers unfortunately lost, I got my riding gear together. Since it was so cold, I was going to suck it up and wear a full face helmet. I hated those things. They were so heavy, it felt like you were wearing another head. I also got out my leather riding pants, thick gloves, and my jacket that weighed about ten pounds—but it was warm. I didn’t know what I was thinking having work done on my bike now. I should have waited until spring, but that’s when everyone else would want work done too.

***

Izzy let out a chuckle as she walked through the front door and saw my pile of gear. “And you like riding why? Looks like you’re ready for a trip to Antarctica.”

“Hardy har har. Riding sets me free. There’s nothing like it. Granted, it’s not so awesome this time of year, but it was my own stupid fault for not checking the weather before I took her in.”

“Her. Why is it always her? It’s a Harley. Shouldn’t it be a him? Rugged and tough and all that?” As was a habit of hers, Izzy rifled through my mail while she talked. I didn’t even think she realized she did it. We were just that comfortable in each other’s spaces.

I grabbed the mail out of her hands and put it back on the table. “No, Izzy. Anything with an engine is a her. I don’t know why, it just is. Anyway, Sally would be a silly name for a boy bike.”

“Really? Sally? How original.”

I thought Sally the Softail sounded good. “What would you call her?”

“Slut.”

“Slut?”

“Yeah. Softail Slut. Or maybe Strumpet, Streetwalker, or even Sinner. No, wait! How about Street Girl?”

I had no idea how Izzy’s mind worked. It was a thing of mystery. “Yeah…no.”

“Fine. Sally then.”

“Thank you.” I gathered my stuff and pushed her toward the door. “Let’s go.” Izzy tended to need prodding to get going now and then. Her attention span was lacking, but I adored her.

***

I swear I’d forgotten how gorgeous my bike was in the three months or so that I hadn’t ridden her. Her Sierra Red paint sparkled in the waning sunlight coming in the back window of the service department. She was so pretty I had to run my hand over her gas tank.

“Are you going to have sex with her or are we going to have dinner?” Izzy joined me, already wearing her new jacket she’d bought minutes ago while I’d settled up with service’s cashier.

“Okay, okay. I’m about ready. The guy is just wiping her down and I’ll be leaving. You go ahead. I’ll meet you over there in a few minutes.” The restaurant was basically across the highway. “Order me a Jack and Coke.” While I was waiting for the technician to bring my bike out the side door, I donned my heavy coat and gloves. Since I wasn’t going far, I didn’t bother with my leather chap pants. I’d save them for the ride home.

I’d just finished fastening my helmet strap when the service guy wheeled my bike out for me and started her up. What a sound. The only thing that compared to the sound of a rumbling Harley was possibly the roar of a race car engine.

I thanked the tech through the open visor of my helmet, threw my leg over the bike, pulled in the clutch, and dropped her into first gear. I reveled in the comforting feel of the vibration throughout my body. I’d started riding late in life, but it was an addiction that had grabbed me quickly. It was the only good thing I’d taken out of my last real relationship over two years ago: the jackass had taught me how to ride.

As soon as I hit the highway, I twisted the throttle and shifted gears. And froze my butt off. The roads were only moderately busy. I had to make one jug handle, and a scant ten minutes later I was in a booth across from Izzy, rubbing my chilly legs. “I should have had you order me something hot.”

“I just ordered a minute before you walked in. Want me to flag our waitress down? I’m sure she can change it.”

“Nah, that’s okay. Jack will warm me up just as well.”

She picked up a menu, flourishing it in front of my face. “Here, pick something out and then we can get down to the good stuff.”

“What good stuff? What did I miss?”

“Magnus good stuff! Have you heard from him?”

“Actually no. He texted me once a few days ago and that was it. He’s traveling, though, and he’s on the West Coast so we have that time difference and all.”

Izzy’s lips pursed while she digested that. “Hmm. That could be it. I mean he wouldn’t have texted you at all if he wasn’t still interested. When does he come home?”

“They’ll be home tonight. Late. They don’t waste time on those road trips. They come home the same day or night they play, if at all possible.” Being on the road was brutal. I was glad that wasn’t part of my job. One of the other reporters from the A.C. Sports Network covered interviewing at the away games. On the days I wasn’t working in the locker room, I filled a spot at the desk on the intermission shows. Being on television wasn’t my favorite part of the job, but I’d gotten used to it over the years. If I had my choice, though, I’d stick to interviewing and writing my articles.

“Why don’t you send him a text? Just let him know you were thinking about him. Something casual. Maybe not mention the loss tonight, though.”

The loss was hard to watch. The Pens were a big rival for us, so they were probably our number one team we hated to lose to. I knew I did. “I guess I could. Get a feel for the situation.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a waitress heading our way. I never had looked at the menu, so I scanned it quickly and settled on chicken and steak fajitas with extra sour cream, of course. Izzy ordered a Cajun salmon platter. She definitely had a more refined palate than I.

“Text him now. I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” I took out my phone and sent a simple text.

Me: Sorry about the game today. Your goal was sweet, though. Safe travels.

“There. Text sent.” No sooner had I put my phone down than the chime sounded.

“Ooh. What’d he say?” Izzy made a grab for my phone, but she wasn’t quick enough.

“Hands to yourself, missy.” I thumbed to the text and smiled. “He says thanks and wants to know if we could get together tomorrow for lunch.”

“Aww, see? He’s still interested.”

“I guess so.” I texted him back with an affirmative answer while little butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Ignoring them, I put my phone away and gave Izzy my undivided attention. “So what about you? You haven’t dated anyone in a while yourself.”

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not turning this around on me, Jen. I don’t want to date anyone right now.”

Izzy’s last relationship was less than pleasant. Her story wasn’t unique. She’d been seeing this guy for four months before she’d found out he was married with three kids. We sure could pick them. At least I found out about the temp I’d sort of slept with almost from the start.

“Why not? Dan was a douche. If at first you don’t succeed…”

“I’m sure you’re right. Okay, after you and Mags are tight, you can set me up with one of the hockey guys.” She waggled her eyebrows at me and sipped her drink.

I thought about that. “It wouldn’t be the worst idea. You never know.” Our chitchat went on until after seven o’clock, when we decided to go back to my place and watch The Lake House. We were both big Keanu fans. We ended the evening with another Keanu flick and some wine. I loved our girls’ nights out.

***

“Oh, God.”

Along with some incoherent mumbling, that was what I awoke to on Sunday morning. It didn’t come from me. I shook away the last vestiges of sleep as I sat up in bed to find Izzy standing in my doorway holding her head with both hands.

“Why did you let me drink that last glass of wine, Jennie? You know I can’t drink more than two glasses. My head’s killing me.”

Izzy wasn’t a lightweight when it came to drinking; it just happened to be that wine always gave her headaches. “I told you to drink water before you crashed on the couch.” While we were watching the second movie the night before, we’d finished the bottle of wine I had opened earlier in the week. Some Keanu and Sandra, wine, blankets, and my bestie—they went together like PB&J. It wasn’t the first time Izzy had stayed over, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Yeah, you did. I’m going to go get some now.”

“Don’t forget to grab a couple Advil! They’re in the kitchen on the shelf above the glasses.” I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost 9 a.m. I hadn’t heard from Magnus yet about what time we were going to meet up for lunch, but I knew he’d had a late flight home from San Diego yesterday.

Light footsteps fell in the hallway as Izzy made her way back to my bedroom and climbed under the covers. “I’m cold.”

She made herself comfortable by grabbing most of the covers. “What the hell, Iz? Give me some covers.”

“But you’re already so warm, and my head hurts. Help me.”

Geez. “Fine. Warm up, but don’t fall back asleep.”

“I won’t.” That was the last I heard from Izzy until I emerged from my shower almost an hour later. It was even after that, actually. She didn’t open her eyes until I’d opened the door and started blow drying my hair. I knew she’d woken up because the shoe she threw at me from her vantage point in my bed hit me square in the back.

I switched my hair dryer off and pointed it in her direction. “Hey! None of that. I have a lunch date to get ready for.”

She took a deep breath and blew her long bangs out of her face, not moving any more than that. “You heard from Mags?”

“No. Not yet. He’s probably still sleeping. I just want to be ready when he texts. You going to get out of my bed any time soon?”

She threw the other shoe at me. “Yes, smartass. I just feel lazy today. It’s Sunday, you know.”

I did know. Izzy worked hard—too hard, only allowing herself time off on Saturday nights and Sundays. Sundays almost didn’t even count, because she wound up doing all of her food shopping, cooking, and laundry that day. If she wasn’t looking in on her grandfather, picking up things for others in the nursing home, or volunteering at the animal shelter, she was at her regular nine-to-five job with me. I didn’t know how she did it all.

What I did know was that it was almost noon, and I hadn’t heard from Magnus yet. The doubting Thomas in me thought that maybe he’d changed his mind after all.