Janae went through the room, and hugged or shook hands with every one of the twenty girls. When she got toward the back, a redhead, like herself, lifted her chin. “You the reason we have to do a dance routine?”
Janae tipped her head, surprised. “Did you not have one before?”
“Nope. But now we do. And we gotta get out there and do it when the station pauses for breaks.”
Janae didn’t know what to think about that. Should she apologize? Wait for them to say thank you? She didn’t know. But she hoped it wouldn’t be a problem with her new co-workers. “And what is your name?”
“Lily.”
“Hey Lily. So…are we okay? New girl shows up, new dance routine, disturbing things.”
“Oh honey, of course.” What else could she say when asked directly? But Janae couldn’t be sure she meant all that sugar. “Bless your heart. You couldn’t know any better.”
And then Janae was pretty sure she was laying it on like the southern girl her accent indicated.
“The thing is,” Lily continued, “we’re all a little petrified about adding dance. On ice. They hired us to be ice girls, not half-time dancers. This is hockey. We do a little hip-hop on the platform during the game and shovel off the ice. That’s it. Ice girls.”
Janae nodded. “Well, I do have some experience with choreography, and I’ve taught dance before. Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
Lily shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”
They showed Janae a locker where she could keep her things, and then the girls all put on their skates.
Janae was amazed at the arena. Triple-decker seating surrounded them. Advertising, digital boards, and a huge jumbotron reminded her that these were professionals. This was a professional team. And she just might have her work cut out for her.
She stepped to the edge of the ice and skated out onto the smoothest skating surface she’d ever been on. As soon as all the girls joined her, a young man approached in the stands. Tiff gestured and they all gathered in front of him. He was tall, with sandy brown hair, and he wore a sweater.
“So, I see you’ve met Janae. I haven’t yet, but we’ve had some really successful chats on the phone. I’m Todd Wilkins.” He held out his hand, and Janae shook it. “We’re happy you’re here and for what you can bring to the girls.”
Janae nodded.
He turned to the team. “Now, what I’d like to see from all of you is some sort of halftime show.”
“But we don’t have a halftime.”
He waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. During one of the breaks, or lots of the breaks, we’d like to see the girls out there doing more than just shoveling the ice. Do a routine with your shovels, wear costumes, put on a show.” His smile grew. “If we do this, I think our ice girls can become something people show up here to see, almost like they come to watch hockey.”
Janae nodded. “When do we work on the routines? Do you have something in mind?”
“That’s what you’re here for. Everyone, look to Janae. She has experience putting together routines for this kind of thing. She’ll get you started at least, and it can grow from there.”
Janae clenched her fists, hopefully invisible to the others, and she grit her teeth in frustration. So she was choreographer, designer, and music selection. She was producer and director. She was everything, plus a dancer. With a team of women who’d never done it before and had already told her that dancing wasn’t their thing.
Todd saluted her and then waved to the girls. “I look forward to watching what you come up with. How about in say…two weeks?”
Janae nodded. “You got it. I’ll talk to the team to see what we think is feasible. You don’t want us launching a new thing without looking our best.”
“True enough. I leave it in your hands, but the sooner the better, as far as a timeline.”
“Will do.” Janae tried to smile but feared it was more grim than pleased.
As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to the women who were circled around her. “First of all, I’m really sorry. That’s a sorry thing to throw in our laps, and we all know it.”
They grumbled. Some of them looked down. Everyone looked concerned.
“But, I have a few ideas. And I can tell you for sure that we will have a kick-butt routine up and ready sooner than you think.”
“I don’t even know how that’s possible.” Lily pointed right at her. “You haven’t seen us dance.”
“Well, now, let’s take care of that. I’ll teach you the basics of a new routine, and we’ll see what we have. But first, we’re going to do a little stretching.”
She used her phone, which they promised would be connected to the main sound system, and put on her stretching and toning music.
She skated out to the middle. “Let’s get us all warmed up. I’d like to see how you hold your arms, and what your comfort level when moving your bodies. Just mimic what I do.”
As they went through the routine, Janae was relieved. They were graceful. They held their arms like dancers. They moved fluidly on the ice. Things were going to be just fine.
So she put on a song she thought they could start with for a more energetic dance. That was when some of her ideas fell apart a little bit. They just hadn’t ever done a routine, that she could see. But she got them to the point where they could do an opening together with the music while looking professional. She’d call that a win for the day. “Ladies. That was amazing. You worked hard. Now, maybe you can show me what we do when we aren’t dancing in the middle of the rink?”
Then Tiff ran them through their skating drills. Janae knew she’d be sore the next day.
“Time to teach Janae our routines.” Tiff waved toward the exit ramp. “We have to catch all the floating ice fluff or the guys can get it clumped in their skates, built up on their sticks, and it gets dangerous as well as it interferes with their playing.” Tiff skated at her side.
“What about the Zambonis?” Janae had always wanted to ride one of the machines that cleared the ice and made it look shiny and new again.
“They do their job too, but only at the period break. We’re all the players have in between.” She moved to the goal. “Especially in here. We need to clean out this space.”
Janae nodded.
They got out the shovels and led her through the routines. While watching them, she started to smile. “Hey, what if we added some spice and fun to the shoveling as well?”
“Like what?” Lily pulled her hair back behind her head.
“Well, we could play off each other and just have a little fun, nothing planned. Like, let’s say, I’m skating along and I suddenly go backwards and do a little wiggle shake.”
They laughed.
“And then race one of you to the other end or something?”
They nodded but didn’t jump on her thoughts to add any more of their own. She guessed she could start something tonight at the game and see where it went.
“Well, we’ll start slow. After watching you today, I think we could have a routine ready in two weeks. What do you think?”
They shrugged. And then Tiff clapped. “it was way more fun than I thought. The fans are going to be super excited.”
They ran through their shovel rotations for about thirty minutes. She’d watched videos of different teams and their ice girls, but Janae had no idea there was so much to it.
Tiff skated to the middle. “Alright girls. Great practice. Get ready for game time. And don’t forget to be here early tomorrow to put in some extra time on the show. I’m loving what I see so far. Janae’s a great addition to our group.”
As the ladies exited the rink, the players started coming out onto the ice.
“Hi Lou!” Tiff’s fingers waved, delicately greeting the guy who skated past.
Janae wondered just how close the whole team environment was for the Comets. Did they go out together, eat after the game? Did the girls and the hockey players hook up? She couldn’t tell.
But the girls scooted out of the way as quickly as they could and made their way down the ramp. Janae stood at the entrance to watch. She reviewed in her mind what they’d taught her to do for tonight. She’d never gone on stage with so little preparation before. The familiar stage fright hit her. She breathed slowly and methodically to force her heart rate to slow.
Then the hockey players started skating slower as they went by her during their warm up, nodding or winking. And she knew it was time to make her way back down the ramp with the other girls.
Her eyes scanned the team. Where was the big guy? She snorted to herself. Everyone was a big guy. But the mammoth man she’d seen down the hall when she arrived had left an impression. And she wanted to see just how tall he was.
“Excuse me.” A deep voice behind her rumbled in her chest.
She looked over her shoulder into the face of the guy, the big guy. “Oh, hello big guy.” She almost clamped a hand over her mouth. What on earth? And where had that come from? “I’m so sorry. That came out wrong. I mean, you are big, but I just meant hello. And I was thinking about how big you are. In a good way. But not too good. Just a normal amount of good. You’re really tall. You know what? I’m just going to go.”
His grin started out small and grew the more she babbled. “I’m Trane.”
“Hey.”
He waited; his eyebrow lifted.
“Oh, and I’m Janae.”
“Are you new?”
“Yeah.” She puffed out a breath, ruffling the wispy hairs around her face. “And I just hope I don’t mess up.”
“Just smile. We all like it when the girls smile. That’s all you gotta worry about.”
She eyed him curiously. “Really?”
“Well, and shovel off the loose ice. That stuff gets caught in our skates and slows us down.”
“I can do that.” She started to worry she was keeping him, so she backed down the ramp. “Hey, it was good to meet you Trane.”
“You too. I’ll be watching you out there. You’ll do great.”
“Uh, thanks, you too.”
He tipped his head in her direction and then made his way to the ice. She moved back up the ramp, closer to the entrance so she could watch him. He moved straight to the goal. Of course he was the goalie. He almost took up the whole space in the box. She’d have to look him up online later.
As she joined the other ladies in the locker room, they were friendly. Even Lily had less of a defensive attitude. She just sat in one of the chairs, pulling out her phone. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as Janae thought.
Chapter 3
Trane thought about the new ice girl all during pregame warmup. She seemed different from the others. He had a soft spot for all of them. They were misunderstood for the most part, and he could totally relate to that. He always got after the guys if they got too friendly or if they talked like the girls could be passed around between them. Maybe they could be, maybe they didn’t care about that. But Trane wanted to hear some respect on the guys’ end. Let the girls figure out their own lives. But no lack of consideration for their feelings could come from him or the guys. Or so he hoped.
He practiced blocking pucks shot at him from the wings of the Comets. The game tonight shouldn’t be a problem. He was playing against Declan though. His old friend’s game had totally picked up. He had scored off Trane the last time they played like it was nothing. That had to stop of course. But dinner and conversation with Declan afterward would be a highlight.
For the first time, he wondered if he should invite a date to any of these dinners. The coach had told him to start dating. The new girl, Janae, came to his mind. Her red hair had a wildness about it that made him want to pat it down, but he felt sure the curls would never be flattened. A part of him wanted to watch them spring back up after his touch. A big mass of red, curly hair. You just didn’t see stuff like that on too many heads. And her freckles kind of matched her hair. Maybe she’d want to come to dinner.
She could bring Tiff so Declan could have a date and round out the numbers…but he was pretty sure Declan was dating someone now so that wouldn’t go over very well. The last thing Declan would want to do is to make that little fireball of a woman mad at him. He’d be cool if they had a third person join their dinner. Trane was pretty sure.
The team would be shocked to hear he’d gone out with a woman at all, until he told them Coach suggested it. Coach Fenwick.
His current coach for the Comets called them all back together. Old Rayburn was a good enough man. He ran a great team. They were winning most of the time, and the guys were well placed. But Trane compared everyone to Fenwick, and he just couldn’t thinking that his first coach was his best coach. And that was that.
Rayburn told them all what to worry about in the other team. They knew the drill. They’d watched the video. And then he said, “Diesel. I don’t want any goals to get past you.”
“Got it.”
“It’s going to be tough to score on them, but if we can keep our end down to zero, we’ll notch another win.”
Trane knew what was expected. For a long time, people really couldn’t score off him. But Rocco had figured out the Rebound trick. Trane had to hand it to him, it was genius. And now Declan, scoring off of him in a game last time they’d played. Trane was happy it had helped Dice stay on the team in Denver, but that’s as far as his happiness spread. No more. He wasn’t letting a puck slip by, not one.
The familiar pressure to hold to a perfect standard tensed his body. His knees tightened, and his breathing shallowed. Right away he recognized the signs of an incoming panic attack, or at minimum, an uncomfortable and stressful game.
Should he adjust his expectations? Of course he couldn’t guarantee a goal-free game. What goalie could ever do that? He knew he needed to give himself permission to let a puck slip by. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want them to score any more than Coach did.
“You do not have to be perfect.” He mumbled to himself. “You don’t have to be perfect.”
“Yes, you do!” Conahan, one of the defenders skated past him. “No goals.”
“How about you take that on yourself? No pucks past you either so I don’t have to worry about them coming near the goal.”
“Dude. Defenders are never perfect.”
Trane frowned until Conahan held up his gloved hands. “All right. I’ll do my best.”
“Good answer.”
The game started and for the first third, no one scored at all. Trane concentrated on the puck and was pleased to see his teammates keeping it as far from him as possible. Excellent.
And then the wings lost the puck in an attempt to score and it came gliding down the ice toward him. He bent his knees, tapped his post twice, and squinted his eyes. “Bring it on, boys.”
They weaved and glided, passing the puck between them. Declan frowned, his look of concentration overtaking his face. Trane prepared himself, his eyes following the puck everywhere it went: cradled in a stick, passed along the ice, behind someone’s skates. He lost track of who directed it—only the black disc mattered.
And then he heard a whistle from the stands. His dad.
He started, his skates wobbling. He refocused on the black puck, but he had lost sight of it. His eyes scanned the area, in vain he tried to locate it, and then something hit his shoulder. He snatched a glove up to block, but too late, it sailed into the net behind him.
“And the Denver Chargers score! The first of the game. Declan Rivera.”
The small group of Chargers fans cheered, and Trane stopped his knees from shaking. What had just happened?
He refused to turn around until his face was a mask. Once he had control of his features, he rotated his body, and stared his father in the face.
The man gave no expression, but stared back and then slowly nodded once.
When Trane turned to face the next puck drop, he tried to refocus. Instead, he was aware of every shift of his own body, as you are when someone watches. And h
e felt his father’s eyes on him. Luckily, Trane stopped every shot from then on.
After many more tortuous minutes, the game ended. The Comets had lost and Trane hurried to the locker room. As he rushed down the hallway, he almost ran into a group of the ice girls. One nearly toppled over until he reached out to hold her up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bump you. I was in a hurry and not paying attention.” She was soft in his hands, and as Janae turned her face to him, a portion of his confusion and distress about his dad’s sudden appearance melted away.
“No problem.” She smiled, and light filled his heart. She was so...beautiful. And her curls did whatever they pleased as far as he could tell. One of them was bouncing at her cheek. Several others lined her face along her forehead and at her neckline.
She cleared her throat. “I think I’m good now.” He still held her after helping her find her balance.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He lifted her back upright and let her stand by herself. He held his hands awkwardly at his sides, his gloves under one arm. He stepped aside to let her pass. But she lingered, searching his face and then she bit her lip.
“What is it?” Trane asked. He wanted to keep talking to her, but he didn’t know what to say. But she seemed to want to linger with him too.
“Oh, nothing. I’m sorry.” Her cheeks colored to a pretty sort of pink, highlighting that row of freckles he’d spotted on the top of her cheek bones. She turned away like she might leave.
“Would you like some of the best Mexican food Detroit has to offer?”
Her mouth opened in surprise. She turned back to him. “Wait, what?”
“Oh, that came out quickly.” He looked away. Then shrugged. “Probably not the best night for it anyway.”
“Yes.” She stepped up on her toes and rocked back and forth for a moment.
“Pardon me?”
“Yes, I’d love some.” Her teeth were white and straight, and her smile was charming and eager. It gave him courage.
“Oh, well, good. Ok. You’ll have to put up with Declan Rivera too. He’s part of the deal.”
Shootout (Northbrook Hockey Elite Book 6) Page 2