Last Shot

by David Skuy

  “Go on in,” she said. “They’re waiting for you.”

  He pushed the door open.

  “Come have a seat,” Gold said.

  Gold, Alvo and Washington sat behind a table. Rocket sat down across from them.

  “How’d you enjoy camp?” Gold said.

  “Good. Great. Lots of fun — meeting the guys and stuff.” Rocket didn’t know what else to say.

  “Well, that’s the important thing,” Washington said.

  Rocket wasn’t sure he agreed.

  Gold slid his iPad away. “We’re trying to create an NHL-level experience for you guys, something for you to remember and take with you for the rest of your lives.”

  Rocket nodded silently.

  Gold sat back in his chair. “You did well at fitness. You also skate well and see the ice. Good puck distribution. Good skill set. Need work on the physical side. Your Corsi numbers were good, though, very good. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Probably not the time to tell them he was a sports trivia expert. He knew Corsi measured puck possession by comparing how many shots your team had when you were on the ice versus how many it gave up, including missed and blocked shots.

  “How do you think you did?” Washington said.

  Rocket interlocked his fingers and pushed the tops of his hands into his thighs. How to answer that question without sounding too full of himself?

  “I think I can play in this league and help Axton. I know I’m not the biggest guy. But I’ve been dealing with that my whole life, and I know how to compete against bigger bodies. I’ll do whatever it takes to win. I just want to learn and get better and … My dad’s tall, so I think in a few years …”

  He squeezed his fingers. Stupid thing to say. Like they’d believe him.

  Alvo was stone-faced, as always. Rocket looked at Washington. He seemed concerned.

  Gold leaned forward. “You’re an interesting project, Rockwood. I got to be honest. Stats are important, for sure. I’m totally committed to modern hockey. At the same time, hockey is a physical game. We’re building something special here. We’re focused on championships, Memorial Cups — winning. We need special players to do that, guys with size who can pound the other team.” He sat up straight. “I didn’t necessarily see you fitting the Axton model. Like you just said, you’re not the biggest kid in the world. You’re a skill guy — and we have a few of those already.”

  It was all Rocket could do to sit still.

  “Fortunately, for you, I’ve been outvoted,” Gold said. “Go figure. I buy the team and I can’t even choose the players.”

  Gold laughed like crazy. Washington joined in. Alvo remained quiet.

  “We went hard at it — fists almost flew, I can tell you — but in the end, you won out,” Gold said.

  Rocket stared at him.

  “You made the cut, kid,” Gold said. “Congrats for now. We’ll see what you can do in the exhibition season.”

  Rocket gasped and the men laughed. He’d been holding his breath. “Thanks. Sorry. I was … a bit nervous,” he said.

  “We thought you played well with Bossy and Fryer,” Gold said. “We’ll probably go with that and see how you do. They’re big bodies, and they’ll make sure nobody takes any liberties.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Chen popped her head in.

  “Are we ready?” she said.

  “Send him in,” Gold said.

  Alvo held out his hand. Rocket reached out tentatively and shook it. Alvo had a solid grip.

  “We have a team dinner tonight at seven,” Gold said. “Here are the details.” He handed over a piece of paper.

  “I’m staying with the Strohlers, so …”

  “That’s right. Forgot. Couldn’t have worked out better for you,” Gold said. He poked his iPad a few times and showed Alvo the screen.

  “Thanks again,” Rocket said, his voice quivering slightly. “I won’t let you down.”

  “Keep putting in that effort,” Washington said.

  Rocket smiled back at him, trying to convey his immense gratitude. Washington had stood up to Gold — again. Rocket pushed the door open, and another player walked in as he went out.

  He was alone in the hallway, so he stopped to take another deep breath. That boulder on his back felt a lot lighter — at least for now. He had the exhibition season to prove himself. Six games to take the first big step toward the NHL.

  He pulled out his phone and texted a message to his mom and Maddy — they had a lot riding on this, too. Then he added Megan, André, Ty and the guys on the trivia team.

  Survived training camp. Exhibition season here I come.

  Maddy answered right away.

  So what? You’re still a loser. I’m coming to see your game in Axton. Set it up.

  Rocket texted his answer as he walked to the lobby. His head felt like it was floating; his feet seemed to barely to touch the floor.

  Awesome, sis. Looking forward to being cooler than you.

  CHAPTER 16

  The man came into the house carrying a fruit tray. He’d been bringing in food for fifteen minutes. Kimberly followed him in.

  “You could’ve told me you were here,” she said to Strohler. “I didn’t need to close up. I actually had to tell some customers to leave.” She looked around. “How much food did you order?”

  “Can’t look cheap. Chris and Dawn will be judging every move I make,” Strohler said.

  “Who are they again?” she asked.

  “Cash’s parents,” Strohler said. “Please engage. Now, did you buy the Diet Coke?”

  “Yes. Three bottles.”

  “Three! I told you to get ten.”

  “No human being can drink ten 2-litre bottles of Coke.”

  “If we run out, I swear …” Strohler touched his earpiece. “Jamie! What’s up?” He walked into the kitchen.

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Rocket asked Kimberly.

  “You’re sweet. I think we’re okay. It seems we have enough food to feed ten hockey teams,” Kimberly said.

  “What time are they coming, again?” Devin said.

  “They’re not,” Strohler snapped, stomping back into the hallway.

  “What do you mean?” Kimberly asked.

  “Stupid Gold cancelled,” he fumed. “Apparently, his friends are in town. He wants to do it next week.”

  “But we have all this food!” Kimberly said.

  “No kidding.”

  “Tell this Mr. Gold to bring his friends here,” Kimberly said.

  “Geez, Kimberly. You want me to look pathetic and beg? They want to do it next week.”

  “But we have all the food now.”

  The caterer walked in carrying two cakes.

  “This isn’t what we ordered,” Strohler roared.

  The man froze. “I emailed the order to you and you confirmed it.”

  “Take it all back. These sandwiches aren’t fresh. The bread is gross and soggy and the cheese smells.” Strohler sniffed the air and gagged.

  “I can assure you the food was prepared fresh today. We have a reputation …”

  “Get this cat food out of here,” Strohler said. “I’m not paying for any of this garbage, either. I have events catered all the time. You can’t fool me.”

  “Maybe you should go hang out downstairs,” Kimberly whispered to Rocket and Devin. “Dinner won’t be for a while. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  Rocket thought that was a very good idea. Apparently, Devin did, too. They crept over to the stairs.

  Then Rocket remembered that Maddy wanted to come up for a game. He crept back to look for Kimberly, who had escaped to the living room.

  “Kimberley,” he whispered, “would it be okay if my sister came up and stayed a night? She wants to see me play a game before school starts.” He figured it would be easiest to pretend they were actually related.

>   “Of course,” she said. “Just let me know when.”

  “I wouldn’t feed this to my dog!” Strohler was shouting.

  “Someone needs to pay for it,” the man said angrily.

  Rocket hurried downstairs. Devin was waiting for him.

  “Is he really not going to pay?” Rocket asked.

  “My dad’s the king of the scammers. He’ll pull it off,” Devin said.

  “So, do you want to game?” Rocket asked.

  Devin shrugged.

  “We don’t have to,” Rocket said. “I’m up for whatever.”

  “Congratulations on making the team,” Devin said.

  “I haven’t exactly made it, yet. I get to play the exhibition games,” Rocket said.

  “Right.” Devin looked out the window.

  “You feel like swimming?” Rocket said.

  “If you want.”

  “Hey, have heard of a place called Jimmy’s?” Rocket said. “We could have a pre-dinner snack. I heard the fries are legendary.”

  Devin put a hand to his chin. “They are good, I’ll give you that. I’d be up for a walk. It’s not far — ten minutes.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Okay. I’ll just tell my mom where we’re going.”

  A few minutes later, they were on the main street.

  “I told my mom we’d be late,” Devin said.

  “We don’t have to stay long,” Rocket said.

  “Trust me. We don’t want to be home. Dad will be on the warpath.” Devin looked at the ground. “He wasn’t always like this. He’s just gotten obsessed over being a hockey agent. I think he feels cheated out of a hockey career and …” His voice trailed off.

  Devin’s family lived in the most beautiful house Rocket had ever seen. They had two cars, four televisions, a swimming pool, a sauna, a steam room, pool and Ping-Pong tables — basically anything a guy could want. Despite all of that, Rocket felt sorry for him. It seemed like Devin didn’t have the one thing he wanted — a dad who cared about him.

  Maybe that’s why Rocket and Devin got along. They sort of had that in common. Rocket had seen less and less of his own dad over the years. He hadn’t even called to wish Rocket luck on the tryouts.

  “How come your dad feels cheated?” Rocket asked Devin.

  “He was playing in the AHL and he got into a big brawl. I think he jumped off the bench and went after some guy with his stick. He hurt him bad. Anyway, he got suspended for the rest of that season and half of the next, and that’s when I was born. My grandfather offered him a job, my mom’s dad, that is, and he took it. After a year or two, he was making good money and had to support a family, so he gave up hockey. I think he feels his hockey career was taken from him by … Well, I guess he thinks he’s owed something.”

  “Looks like he did okay.”

  “That’s not how he feels.” Devin pointed across the street. “There’s Jimmy’s.”

  Rocket could see the sign hanging from the building. They went in.

  The walls were covered in posters, pennants and newspaper articles featuring athletes from all sports, but mostly hockey. There were several televisions, too. Rocket spotted a sign: The Path to Jimmy’s Most Awesome Patio.

  “You want to sit outside?” he asked Devin, who nodded.

  Rocket poked his head out and saw his friends.

  “Rocket! Bro! You found it.”

  Kyle and Nathan waved to him from a corner table.

  “No one can resist the power of Jimmy’s fries,” Kyle said. “Have a seat. We’ll score you a basket.”

  Rocket was at a loss for words. Did they make it? Were they here because the party had been cancelled — or did they not even know about it? He sat down, then noticed Devin standing off to the side.

  “Sorry, this is Devin. He’s the son of … he’s lives at … I’m staying at his place,” Rocket said.

  “We’ll said, young man,” Kyle laughed.

  “Yo, Devin. What’s up?” Nathan said. “Have a seat.”

  Devin sat at the table.

  Kyle waved at a waiter. “Hey, Caroline. We need two more fries, one poutine, one regular — and some more ketchup. This one’s empty.”

  “One order of fries is enough,” Rocket said. He didn’t have much money.

  “No worries. I got ya. Like I said, we practically run the place,” Kyle said.

  Caroline came over. “Do you guys need anything else? More drinks?”

  Kyle held up his empty glass. “When did you become a mind reader? A round of drinks, please. What do you want, Devin?”

  “Maybe a Coke?”

  Kyle pointed at Rocket.

  “Sure, the same,” Rocket said.

  “Four Cokes, Caroline. Thanks.”

  “Got it,” Caroline said. “Give me a sec.”

  “Take your time. We aren’t going anywhere,” Kyle said.

  “That’s the truth,” Nathan said glumly.

  Rocket forced himself not to react. That was that: they’d been cut.

  Caroline patted Nathan on the back. “You need food. Trust me, I’m a mind reader. You all need something good to eat. Leave it with me.” She disappeared back into the restaurant.

  “You’re breaking your promise, bro,” Kyle said to Nathan.

  Nathan looked at Rocket. “They decided one free agent walk-on was enough. Kyle made the cut. I didn’t. I promised myself not to let it get me down — maybe it’s a promise I can’t keep.”

  “It’s not over, bro,” Kyle said. “This is just another bump in the road, like a defenceman in the way of the puck. Fight through it and get the puck. Tell him, Rocket.”

  Nathan slowly traced the top of his glass with the tip of his finger. “Not sure this is a bump. I think it’s a dead end. Time for me to face it. I’m not going to play in the OHL, and I’m not getting drafted to the NHL.”

  “You can’t say that …” Kyle began.

  “I can. Maybe I play Junior A again and make it as an overage junior. Then what? The East Coast League? Or, if I’m lucky, the AHL? Then I turn twenty-five, and I have no education and I’m probably banged up. I don’t have the wheels, Kyle. Never will. I can shoot. Okay. But I don’t have Rocket’s skills, and I don’t have your skating, checking and size. Maybe I don’t care enough. It’s okay. It is. I’m bummed out a bit, of course.” He grinned and sat back in his chair. “But it’s not like my life is over.”

  “According to an article I read, the odds of a ten-year-old making the NHL in this province are about 3,000 to 1. The odds of playing over four hundred games and qualifying for an NHL pension are about 5,000 to 1. The odds of an OHL player going on to play even one NHL game are about 20 to 1,” Devin said.

  The street hummed with passing cars. The midday sun was gone, but the air was still hot and stuffy.

  Kyle looked over at Devin. “Are you sure about those stats?”

  “They’re based on a specific birth year, but it may be even harder to break in to the NHL these days,” Devin said.

  “Devin’s usually not wrong about stuff like this,” Rocket said.

  Kyle nodded meaningfully. “Something tells me you’re right. So what the heck have I been doing with my life? 3000 to 1?”

  Rocket turned to Nathan. “I think you should’ve made it. They didn’t give you a chance, and that fight was unfair.”

  “I’m not going to miss that part of the game,” Nathan said, rubbing his jaw gingerly.

  Kyle gave Rocket’s arm a light punch. “You’re in, right?”

  “By the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,” Rocket said. He didn’t want to talk about it in front of Nathan. “They want big bodies — story of my life. Washington stuck up for me, and they’re giving me the exhibition season — with Bossy and Fryer.”

  “Bossy’s okay,” Nathan said. “He has a job to do. I think he could’ve killed me if he wanted.”

  Rocket thought back to the look on Bossy’s face during the fight. “I don’t think he likes being the designated goon. He doe
s it because it’s expected, but I think he hates it.”

  “Comes down to what price you want to pay, I guess,” Nathan said.

  Caroline put two baskets of fries on the table. Behind her a large, round-faced man held two platters of wings. He put them next to the fries.

  “Jimmy, say hi to the one-and-only Rocket Rockwood,” Kyle said, “and his friend, Devin.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Jimmy said, in a booming, friendly voice. “The boys tell me you can really wheel out there,” he said to Rocket.

  “We had fun playing together,” Rocket said. “These guys are awesome. They both got goals in the last two scrimmages we had.”

  Jimmy cuffed Nathan on the shoulder. “My boy can shoot the lights out. He also tells me you helped him out — I appreciate that. You’re welcome here anytime.” He turned and held out his big fist to Kyle, who gave it a punch. “You go hard tomorrow, every shift. Bang some bodies and make yourself seen.”

  “Okay, Dad,” Nathan said, rolling his eyes. “Let the guy enjoy the night.”

  Dad? Jimmy was Nathan’s father.

  Jimmy’s laugh exploded from him. “I’m real proud of Kyle — and you, too, Nate,” he said. “You gave it an honest effort. That’s all I expect. You did good.”

  Nathan coloured. Obviously his dad’s praise meant a lot to him. It was hard not to compare them to Strohler and Devin.

  “Enjoy the food and let me know if you need more,” Jimmy said.

  He and Caroline went back into the restaurant.

  “You didn’t tell me the famous Jimmy was your dad,” Rocket said.

  “He opened the restaurant after he stopped playing,” Nathan said. “I’m going to study business in school, and maybe we can open another one — at least that’s my plan.”

  “Please open a chain of them,” Kyle said. “Then I can eat free everywhere I go.”

  “Forget that,” Nathan said. “No freebies.”

  “Jerk.”

  Nathan pushed a platter of wings to Devin. “These are hot — the others are suicide. The hot will blow your head off, so beware.”

  Devin reached for a suicide.

  “I like this guy,” Kyle said. “Knows how to live.” He took a suicide wing, too.

  Caroline came over with the drinks.