in. I leaned over until my cheek was brushing against her soft hair and my mouth touched the warm skin of her perfectly-shaped ear.
“You and me,” I whispered. “It will be incredible.”
Then I walked away. I could hear the voices of the guys and Josie’s sarcastic tones, but I didn’t turn around. If she was into playing games, I was into winning games.
“ E ric , you’re looking good,” Lance told me. He meant fitness-wise, of course. If he wasn’t making tons of dough as an agent, he could have been one of those guys at the fair who guess your weight… and your body fat percentage and conditioning level. There was no fooling Lance if you were getting out of shape.
“You were right about Tony. It’s not only fitness; the guy is into every aspect of playing. I’m so ready for this season.”
“Yeah, I’m glad you took my advice. Tony’s kept me apprised of how you’re doing. He thinks you’re a very hard worker.”
That was a huge compliment and not one I’d ever heard from Tony himself. I grinned.
“I wanted to tell you, I have been making a few phone calls—trying to get you into a better situation than the Vice. I might have a team back East, but you burned a few bridges.”
I nodded. I was well aware that I screwed up badly enough that many GMs wouldn’t even consider having me on the team, even after a good season in Europe.
“Of course, there are pros and cons to every situation. With the Vice, they’re crappy and you won’t get great coaching, but you could still work out with Tony. And you’ll get more minutes. There won’t be any playoffs though.”
“You make it sound like I’ve made the team already.”
“From what Tony says, your game is back and your attitude has done a 180-degree turn. Look, you sacrificed some money to do this thing, so I’m sure you want it too. So, let me lay out what can happen.”
Lance leaned forward. He loved this stuff—scenarios. He played high stakes poker because he believed he was good at assessing situations.
“One option: you do good. You have a great season, show people your scoring touch is back and you’re keeping your nose clean. Then, at the end of the season, we’ve got tons of choices. A better AHL team or even an NHL tryout. That’s what we’re aiming for. Hell, we might even see some interest in January or February when some injury-ridden team is looking for help.” Then he scowled. “Of course, it’s not a sure thing. I don’t want to get your hopes up. You might only get a good AHL career out of this, but it’d be similar money to Europe.”
He held up two fingers. “Next option: you have a so-so season. Good, but not really turning any heads. Less options, maybe another AHL team if you stay clean, but probably back to Europe. You rolled the dice, but let’s face, it you’re getting too old to be a rookie anymore.”
I sat back. Yeah, anywhere else in the world, 23 would be young—but not in hockey. Even though I had taken a half-season off and my body had less wear and tear on it, I was still competing with guys two or three years younger. Who had better reputations.
“I don’t have to tell you what option three is. Don’t go there.”
Option three was me screwing up again. Boozing and fucking around. Crapping the bed on my last chance to make the NHL. And possibly even fucking up so badly that I couldn’t go back to Europe. But I wasn’t going there again, I’d learned to tame that side of myself. As long as I could keep it under control when I was under real pressure.
Lance frowned at me. “Is this going to be an issue for you? Especially playing for a party-hearty team like the Vice. I told you—there’s one team in New York State that might give you a tryout.”
I shook my head. “No. I really want to stay here.”
“I get it. Family support and all that.”
Yeah. That was part of it.
T he other part of it was no longer leaning against a polished marble wall when I got out. Josie and
“You and me,” I whispered. “It will be incredible.”
Then I walked away. I could hear the voices of the guys and Josie’s sarcastic tones, but I didn’t turn around. If she was into playing games, I was into winning games.
“ E ric , you’re looking good,” Lance told me. He meant fitness-wise, of course. If he wasn’t making tons of dough as an agent, he could have been one of those guys at the fair who guess your weight… and your body fat percentage and conditioning level. There was no fooling Lance if you were getting out of shape.
“You were right about Tony. It’s not only fitness; the guy is into every aspect of playing. I’m so ready for this season.”
“Yeah, I’m glad you took my advice. Tony’s kept me apprised of how you’re doing. He thinks you’re a very hard worker.”
That was a huge compliment and not one I’d ever heard from Tony himself. I grinned.
“I wanted to tell you, I have been making a few phone calls—trying to get you into a better situation than the Vice. I might have a team back East, but you burned a few bridges.”
I nodded. I was well aware that I screwed up badly enough that many GMs wouldn’t even consider having me on the team, even after a good season in Europe.
“Of course, there are pros and cons to every situation. With the Vice, they’re crappy and you won’t get great coaching, but you could still work out with Tony. And you’ll get more minutes. There won’t be any playoffs though.”
“You make it sound like I’ve made the team already.”
“From what Tony says, your game is back and your attitude has done a 180-degree turn. Look, you sacrificed some money to do this thing, so I’m sure you want it too. So, let me lay out what can happen.”
Lance leaned forward. He loved this stuff—scenarios. He played high stakes poker because he believed he was good at assessing situations.
“One option: you do good. You have a great season, show people your scoring touch is back and you’re keeping your nose clean. Then, at the end of the season, we’ve got tons of choices. A better AHL team or even an NHL tryout. That’s what we’re aiming for. Hell, we might even see some interest in January or February when some injury-ridden team is looking for help.” Then he scowled. “Of course, it’s not a sure thing. I don’t want to get your hopes up. You might only get a good AHL career out of this, but it’d be similar money to Europe.”
He held up two fingers. “Next option: you have a so-so season. Good, but not really turning any heads. Less options, maybe another AHL team if you stay clean, but probably back to Europe. You rolled the dice, but let’s face, it you’re getting too old to be a rookie anymore.”
I sat back. Yeah, anywhere else in the world, 23 would be young—but not in hockey. Even though I had taken a half-season off and my body had less wear and tear on it, I was still competing with guys two or three years younger. Who had better reputations.
“I don’t have to tell you what option three is. Don’t go there.”
Option three was me screwing up again. Boozing and fucking around. Crapping the bed on my last chance to make the NHL. And possibly even fucking up so badly that I couldn’t go back to Europe. But I wasn’t going there again, I’d learned to tame that side of myself. As long as I could keep it under control when I was under real pressure.
Lance frowned at me. “Is this going to be an issue for you? Especially playing for a party-hearty team like the Vice. I told you—there’s one team in New York State that might give you a tryout.”
I shook my head. “No. I really want to stay here.”
“I get it. Family support and all that.”
Yeah. That was part of it.
T he other part of it was no longer leaning against a polished marble wall when I got out. Josie and
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