Playing Hurt

by Kelly Jamieson

“When you get out of the hospital, I’ve got tickets for your whole team to come to an Aces game,” I told them. “You can watch from one of the suites.” I’d gotten team captain Duper in on this. He had a suite where he usually hosted a bunch of kids from a local hospital, and he’d been happy to use the suite for Zach and Ethan’s team for one game.

  “Wow!” They exchanged looks, then stared at us again. “Thank you!”

  “Would you like to sit?” Mrs. Templeton jumped up. “Here…”

  “No, stay there. We’ll grab chairs.” I moved across the room where two more chairs sat, and carried them closer to the beds. Mrs. Templeton sank back down onto her chair, still shaking her head in disbelief.

  “I was really sad to hear about the accident,” I said when we were sitting. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  The boys nodded.

  “When I told Jordyn I was coming to visit you, she wanted to come too.”

  Jordyn gave them a thumbs-up, smiling. “Did you guys know I love hockey?”

  “No,” Ethan said. “That’s cool.”

  “Hockey’s the best sport in the world,” she said.

  “Yeah! It is!”

  We sat with them for nearly an hour, talking to them about their injuries and how long they’d be in the hospital and how they probably wouldn’t be able to play hockey until next season, but they would play again. We talked about hockey and school and even their friends who’d died. Then Mrs. Templeton asked if she could take pictures of us with the boys.

  “Of course.” We stood, and Jordyn and I took turns posing separately and then together with the boys. Maybe the pictures would end up on social media and people would talk about us, but that didn’t really seem important when these two kids were hurt and grieving. Making them happy, even if just for a little while, was the most important thing.

  “I wish I could sing for you,” Jordyn told them. “But maybe you heard I had to have surgery on my vocal cords a while back, and I can’t sing yet.”

  “That sucks,” Ethan said.

  “It does. My surgery wasn’t nearly as bad as your broken leg, but I know how it feels to not be able to do what you love for a while.”

  When we left, there was a crowd of people outside the room who’d been peeking in and listening to us. Jordyn and I smiled at them.

  “This is awesome,” one of the nurses said, clasping a chart in front of her. “Thank you for coming. Those kids have been so brave.”

  “Well, I hope we brightened their day a bit.”

  “They’re in heaven,” she said. “So are we.” She grinned and glanced around at the others. “So impressed with both of you. This is just amazing.”

  We signed more autographs and posed for more pictures before leaving the hospital.

  Outside, we walked hand in hand through the brisk February air to where I’d parked my car.

  Jordyn let out a long breath. “That was good.”

  “Not as bad as you thought?”

  “I was just worried I wouldn’t know what to say to them.”

  “You were perfect. Just…yourself.”

  “You were right…it wasn’t about us. And you were so wonderful with them, Chase.”

  I shrugged.

  “I know you do stuff like that all the time…I’ve seen it in the news. I admire it. And it really helps put your own problems in perspective.”

  “Yeah. I like giving back.” The team did a lot of community work, and I’d been to this hospital before a couple of Christmases to visit sick kids. I’d also gone to schools to read to kids, and I did some work with the Aces Foundation and kids who couldn’t afford to play hockey.

  Once again, Jordyn gave me that admiring look that made me feel like maybe I was actually doing something worthwhile instead of screwing everything up, and it made my chest expand with fizzy warmth.

  Chapter 19

  Chase

  “It’s an honor to be nominated.”

  Jordyn laughed.

  I’d showed up at her place Sunday evening with pizza and a bottle of Cristal to watch the Grammy Awards. She questioned the champagne. “What if I don’t win?”

  I said again, “Seriously. It’s an honor to be nominated.” I carried the box of pizza and the bottle into her kitchen and set them on the counter. “We’re celebrating no matter what happens, because fuck! Being nominated for a Grammy is stupendous!”

  Her eyes danced. “Yes, it is. You’re right. I’ve been down about it because I’m not there and I can’t sing and…well, thank you. This is so nice.”

  “I didn’t want you to watch alone. Come on, you can tell me all the dirt about the others who’re nominated.”

  She chuckled as she lifted champagne flutes out of a cabinet. “Okay.”

  We ate pizza, drank champagne, listened to music and trash-talked the outfits people were wearing, got buzzed and laughed a lot.

  Jordyn didn’t win. But we celebrated anyway. And she showed her appreciation for me being there in the best way possible.

  MARCH

  That POS Chase Hartman isn’t worth the big bucks the Aces are paying him. A top ten overall pick but looking like a career fourth liner. Total overhyped bust. Puts in enough work to get by but not enough to get better. He’s had plenty of opportunity playing enough minutes to be a game breaker, but now he’s just warming the bench. Get rid of him.

  —Ace of Spades Fan Forum

  “So? Any contract news?” I looked across the table at my agent as we studied our menus in the fancy restaurant just off Michigan Avenue where we’d met for dinner. I still had another year on the contract I’d signed with New York after my entry-level contract had expired, but Steve was feeling out team management to see if there was interest in signing a new deal early. I wanted to stay in Chicago, and even though Steve had cautioned me that I might get better offers from other teams, there were advantages to me and to the team to get this done early.

  “What’s the deal with the wrist?”

  I frowned. “What?”

  His lips thinned. He was an imposing man—over six feet tall, barrel shaped, with a completely bald head and a strong nose and chin. “Yarish isn’t exactly jumping up and down to sign you right now.”

  My gut clenched. “Because of how I’m playing.”

  “That’s definitely a factor. Look, this shouldn’t be an issue. We know what you’re capable of, and right now you’re not being paid what your true value is. But…tough to convince management of that when you’ve only got four goals, your plus minus is what, minus eight? And your Corsi sucks.”

  I swallowed. The server came to take our orders, which gave me a few minutes to gather my thoughts. I requested my steak medium rare with a baked potato and extra veggies even though my appetite had disappeared. I picked up my beer and chugged half of it down.

  “I’m working on it,” I told Steve when the server had departed.

  “I know you are.”

  “So they didn’t want to talk at all?”

  “They listened to me. I pointed out that they’re going to have to be careful with their salary cap if they want to lock you up long term. And they should want that. You’re only twenty-five, you’re still going to get better, you’re a top four winger. They have guys who are UFAs this year and they don’t want to get themselves in trouble to the point they can’t afford you. But…” He picked up his own beer. “As I’ve said before, we can shop you around and it won’t be an issue. Shouldn’t be an issue.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You need to get your shit together.”

  “Christ, Steve. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “What the hell does that mean? Of course I’m on your side. Wait, what side?” His thick gray eyebrows pinched together.

  I sighed. “My parents think I’m doing drugs. Pretty sure the team thinks that too, or
at least that I’m out partying and whoring around every night.”

  “Are you?”

  “Fuck no!” I glared at him. “I learned my lesson. I’m squeaky clean.”

  “I am on your side, Chase.” Steve’s voice softened.

  “Yeah, because the more money you get me, the more you make.”

  Steve sat back in his chair and regarded me steadily.

  I felt like a shit. “Sorry.” I sucked in a long breath and let it out. “Just feel like everyone’s on my back and I’m trying my best. I know you’re on my side.”

  “Okay, what’s up with the wrist? Seriously. It’s obviously affecting your game.”

  I nodded reluctantly. I’d told him early in the season that it had been bothering me off and on. “Yeah. It is. It’s weird. It doesn’t hurt all the time. They thought maybe I’d ruptured a ligament, but nothing showed up on the MRI.” I rotated my wrist. “Feels fine right now. It’s just certain ways I move it. I had another cortisone injection and that seems to help. For a while, anyway. It only lasts about six weeks.”

  “You can’t keep having those.”

  I set my teeth together. “I know.” They’d explained that to me. The steroids could actually cause more damage over time—nerve damage, thinning of the skin and soft tissue, weakening of the tendons, and more. “I’m going to the Mayo Clinic next week.”

  “Okay, good. Look, I’m not on your back. We’re a team, right? I’m looking out for you. I’m looking out for your career. Yarish knows what you’re capable of, and I get the feeling they want to keep you. But this might not be the best time to negotiate.”

  “Fuck.”

  We talked more about contract terms and other business stuff and how other teams were doing. I asked how Steve’s wife and kids were. He lived in New York but flew into Chicago regularly to see me and Nicky Balachov, the other guy on the Aces he repped. He was flying all over the country, all the time, meeting with his other clients. He was a great agent, and I was lucky to have signed with him when I was still a teenager. He’d guided me through a lot, and I felt bad for snapping at him about being on my back. Luckily, he was kind of like another dad, a dad who called me on my bullshit but always supported me. Even back in New York when I had been screwing up. And that meant a helluva lot.

  “I’m stressed about it,” I confessed to him. “About how I’m playing. About my contract.”

  He nodded. “I can see that. You gotta relax, Chase. Just relax. You’re too hard on yourself, about everything.”

  “Easier said than done,” I muttered. “Danny told me the same thing. Don’t think about a black dog.”

  Steve’s eyebrows elevated. “Say what?”

  I explained, and he nodded. “So what’s up with these rumors about you and Jordyn Banks?”

  “I guess it’s out there, huh.” I rubbed the back of my neck.

  “Hell yeah. Doing hospital visits together. Shopping at Whole Foods.”

  “Christ.” People with phones were everywhere, apparently. “Yeah, we’ve been seeing each other. She had to have surgery on her vocal cords, so she can’t sing and she came home to Chicago to recuperate. She’s from here,” I added.

  “Huh.” Steve eyed me. “Well, boning is apparently good stress relief.”

  I scowled. Calling what Jordyn and I were doing “boning” didn’t sit right.

  Steve’s eyebrows flew up. “Wait, is this serious?”

  I gnawed briefly on my bottom lip. “Maybe.”

  “Huh. No shit.” He pursed his lips. “Might be good for you to settle down. But not sure if a rock star is a good influence on you.”

  “Come on, she’s amazing.”

  Steve grinned knowingly. “Okay then. My daughters are huge fans of hers.”

  “I’ll get her to sign a couple of CDs for them.”

  Steve’s eyes lit up. It was hilarious how this hard-assed negotiator turned to fluff when it came to his two girls. “Seriously?”

  “Sure.” I hitched a shoulder. “No problem.”

  * * *

  —

  I went from the restaurant to Jordyn’s place, only a few minutes away. She knew I was having dinner with Steve tonight, but I hadn’t been sure how late it would go. The doorman sent me up and I knocked on her door.

  Music played inside her condo—as usual—but there were also voices. A loud male laugh boomed through the heavy door and I frowned.

  Jordyn opened the door, still laughing herself, looking all relaxed and happy. “Hey! You’re here!” She hooked an arm around my neck to pull me down, while she went up on her toes to kiss me.

  I fucking loved kissing her, and for a few seconds I let myself sink into the feel of her soft mouth on mine and her sweet taste. But I was curious about the dude here with her, so my lips locked onto hers, but my eyes went behind her. In her living room I could see…two men.

  What the…?

  Jordyn broke the kiss, grabbed my arm, and drew me into her condo. “Come in and meet Aaron and Malik and Natosha.”

  Three people.

  I knew these names. I knew Jordyn had been in touch with all of them during her time in Chicago, emails and calls and even Skype meetings.

  I now saw the woman sitting around the corner, who had to be Natosha, Jordyn’s assistant. Jordyn credited Natosha with keeping her from being a walking Bermuda Triangle.

  “This is Natosha,” Jordyn said. “Nat, this is Chase.”

  The African American woman smiled at me as she extended her hand. “Hi, Chase. Good to finally meet you.”

  I strode toward her and shook her hand. “Yeah, good to meet you too.”

  “And this is Malik,” Jordyn introduced one of the men.

  I knew she and Malik were friends, even though I’d read rumors about them being a couple. She’d told me that wasn’t true and I believed her, but…I eyed the handsome guy with dark brown skin, dreads, and liquid dark eyes. I liked his music, but I didn’t like that he was so good-looking.

  He rose from the couch to shake my hand, eyeing me appraisingly. I lifted my chin. “Good to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” His eyes remained steady on me.

  I turned to the other man, and damn, he was also handsome and way younger than I’d expected Jordyn’s manager to be. I shook his hand too, taking in expensive jeans and shoes, an untucked shirt fitted to his buff body, designer beard stubble, and cocky smirk. Huh. For some reason I’d expected an older dude like Steve, maybe rotund and bald.

  “Chase.” Aaron’s handshake was firm. He didn’t give me the same kind of look Malik had, but I got the distinct impression that he was looking out for Jordyn every bit as much as Malik was.

  In a way, I liked that. It was good that she had people looking out for her. I knew how strong and independent she was, but I also knew she was sweet and vulnerable and going through a rough time. I just…well, I guess I wanted it to be me who was there for her.

  I wasn’t always going to be around her though. Ugh. It was good she had a squad to take care of her.

  I turned back to Jordyn. “I didn’t realize you’d have people here.”

  She clasped my hand and pulled me down to sit on the couch beside her. “It’s okay. They flew in for a couple of days so we could get some business things out of the way. But we’re done for tonight.”

  “Business.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. I knew that even though her singing was on hold, her career wasn’t. “My booking agent, Martin, has gotten a bunch of performance requests that we have to deal with. We’re rejigging my whole schedule for the rest of the year now.” Her eyes shadowed, and I knew exactly what she was thinking—what if she couldn’t sing?

  I squeezed her hand and gave my head a tiny shake.

  Her eyes cleared, and the corners of her mouth lifted. She got my message. “And
guess what? Tesla wants to use one of my songs in a TV commercial!”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “Wow. That’s great.” She seemed pretty excited, so this had to be a big thing. I leaned forward to kiss her. “Congratulations!”

  “Thank you!” Her eyes sparkled. “This is amazing.”

  “How did that come about? Did Tesla contact you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It was kind of roundabout. They have an advertising agency that develops the commercials. The ad agency went through my label, which has a sync publisher—she finds music for ads or movies or TV shows. They give her a brief for the ad they’re looking for music for, and she looks for a track that fits, and they decided to go with one of mine. Yay!”

  I grinned. “Yeah.”

  “We just need to be smart with the agreement,” Aaron said. “They pay a flat fee up front, but we have to waive public performance rights for a period of time, so we need to make sure the fee reflects the amount of money we would have earned from the work’s use. Or ideally, more.”

  The music business was complicated. As I listened to them talk more about it, I was once again glad that Jordyn had smart people working with her.

  “So we’ve been hearing lots about you,” Aaron said to me. “Sounds like you had a great trip to Aruba.”

  “It was awesome. Too short, but we had a five-day break in the schedule and that’s about all I can do during the season.”

  “How did your dinner with your agent go?” Jordyn asked.

  “Good.” I didn’t want to share the frustrating part of the conversation with all her team here, so I skipped over that. “His daughters are big fans of yours. I, er, may have promised them autographed CDs.”

  Jordyn laughed softly and leaned into me. “Of course! I can do that.”

  My business meeting hadn’t gone quite as well as hers. I kept thinking about what Steve had said about the contract negotiations. Last time we’d been negotiating a contract had been in New York, and there’d been doubts about my abilities because of my off-ice antics. Now, fuck, this! And this time it wasn’t because I was screwing around. Luckily, last time the team had seen my abilities and potential and I’d gotten a decent five-year deal with good money. This time around, I wanted a longer contract and more money, but I was again facing doubts about my abilities.