Wedding Rings & Champions: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 8)

by Heather C. Myers

  Maybe that's why Bruce -

  "No," she snapped at herself, shaking her head. "Don't talk like that. The least he could have done was talk, even if he was upset. After ten years, he owed me that much. And now look, you're going to be a crazy cat person, muttering things to yourself under your breath."

  After locking the door and hanging up her blazer, Natalie took off her clothes and tossed them in the hamper in the corner of their - her bedroom. She didn't even bother turning on the lights. Didn't want to see how desolate her room was now that Bruce had packed up and moved out - after she kicked him out. She had stripped the sheets the moment they left - Bruce and whoever it was he had been with. Natalie couldn't figure out what was worse - if she had known the woman Bruce was sleeping with behind her back or the fact that she didn't. She intended to wash the sheets multiple times but Natalie faltered. Then she said she wanted to burn the sheets but hadn't done that, either. Now, she stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes on the ground, as though she was afraid to really look at this place she used to use as a safe place after her long, arduous days at work.

  She shook her head, fiddling with her layers, before heading into the restroom and turning on the bath. She knelt down to the cabinet and looked around for her favorite bath bomb - vanilla-lavender. She knew she had one left. She already ordered more.

  The loud rush of water began to fill up the porcelain tub, steam rising to the ceiling. Natalie could already feel the tension that knotted between her shoulder blades start to ease - but she knew it wouldn't last. The past seventy-two hours were the worst of Natalie's life, second only to the night when her father died unexpectedly in a car crash. Wrong place, wrong time.

  Bruce had been there for her. Bruce had been her rock. And now -

  The tears started coming, and this time, in her lonely bathroom, Natalie did not stop them. As she continued to shuffle through her cabinet under the bathroom sink, her tears turned to frustrated sobs. She couldn't find her bath bomb anywhere and she was starting to suspect Bruce had let his lover use it. Which meant while she had been sleeping on a lumpy bed, showering instead of bathing, and working, he had been relaxing with a lover and they were indulging in her self-care products.

  In her haste, she knocked over a carton of Qtips, spilled baby powder that someone forgot to close, and she bumped her head on the sink when she moved to turn off the water.

  "Goddammit," she muttered to herself, rubbing the back of her head. She pulled herself from under the sink, removed her glasses, and took off her bra and underwear, setting them with the rest of her clothes. She had no bath bombs, no bubbles, no Epson salt, and no boyfriend.

  The bath did little to ease her mood but at least she was more refreshed and relaxed. Her muscles weren't as tight and even the throbbing in her head eased.

  When she finished, she dried off, pulled on pajamas, and crawled into a bed with no sheets and just a comforter. She wrapped it around her body and cried herself to sleep.

  - - -

  The next morning, over a bowl of brown sugar oatmeal with fresh strawberries, Natalie had her phone out, scrolling through her email. She tried to reserve work for work hours, especially because breakfast was sometimes the only time she had with Bruce where they could talk. But lately, Natalie could admit it had been rather quiet the past couple of years, but she thought that was normal and she had prided herself on being part of a couple that didn't force things, even if there was nothing to say.

  Now, Bruce was gone and she could do whatever she wanted.

  An email from him caught her eye.

  Court Dates - Your Choice

  What the hell?

  Natalie clicked it open and scrolled through it.

  Nat,

  Sorry to do this but I figure it'd be best if we did this legally. Did you have a date when you wanted to discuss division of assets and support payments. I figured we could try mediation. Since you're keeping the apartment, I figured you would buy me out of the lease. I can take payment each month, if that works for you. Do any of the dates work best for you?

  Natalie almost threw her phone across the room. He expected her to buy him out of the lease? He expected her to divide assets? She knew they would have to sort this out eventually but to assume that she would pay him after he cheated on her was infuriating.

  She needed to get away from this. From him and everything he did and was doing to her.

  The minute she got to work, she found Cam and Drew in the break room.

  "I'll do it," she said, sliding her glasses up her nose. "Vegas. I'll do it."

  Chapter 3

  Vegas. The Gulls decided to divert their private plane to Vegas. Girlfriends and wives would meet their significant others there, grabbing a flight from John Wayne airport.

  Chris was ready for this. He needed this. Adrenaline flowed through his body. He wanted drinks. He wanted women. He wanted to party with his teammates - especially Brandon Thorpe who was still smiling. He wanted to drink until it hurt. He wanted to dance like no one was watching. He wanted to celebrate this moment because who knew if this would ever happen again.

  When the plane touched down, Zachary Ryan was making calls to Treasure Island. Nobody had any luggage they needed to pick up at baggage claims; their equipment would be sent home with the equipment manager who would handle everything once they arrived at John Wayne. It was lucky Seraphina Hanson had her own private jet reserved for situations like this, so changes flight destinations was relatively similar.

  "I got us all tower suites with interconnected rooms," Zach said after hanging up. "We're on the top floor with turn down service. They already know to expect us."

  "And I got us transportation," Alec said as he placed his own cell phone back into his pocket. "Two limos are going to pick us up in -" He checked his wrist watch - "about twenty minutes. That gives all of us enough time to call our significant others and let them know what's going on. We can get to the hotel, check in, and then get ready to party so hard, we won't have time to sleep."

  Chris grinned. This was exactly what he wanted.

  It wasn't long before they pulled up to the hotel-casino twenty minutes later in a stretch limo. The majority of the guys only had a bag with a couple of changes of clothes so the driver wasn't pinched for space in the trunk.

  Chris stepped out to take in the tall palm trees, the dock replica with a model of a wooden pirate ship in blue water. He felt excitement course through his blood stream as he placed the strap of his bag on his shoulder and waited for everyone to get their luggage. Kyle Underwood and Oscar Solis insisted on paying for the limos, and once everything was situated with that, they headed inside.

  Zachary Ryan went to the counter to talk to the receptionist. A couple of women walked by, dressed in skin tight dresses that left little to the imagination. One waved at Solis and he grinned back. Chris shook his head, grinning. He rubbed his hands together. He wanted to get out there as soon as possible.

  "All right, everyone," he said. "Each room can hold up to four people. We each have thirteen rooms that all connect, so partner up." He started passing out a hotel key.

  "Hey, buddy," Peter Pratt said, coming over to Chris. "Wanna room together?"

  "Yeah, man."

  Peter was a fourth-line winger who could score a goal or knock someone out. He wasn't the fastest skater, but he could throw a punch or knock a player down. Chris wouldn't exactly call him an enforcer, but Pratt skated on the same line as Xander Vane, so he wouldn't be surprised to see that influence over Pratt. Pratt was also as single as Chris, so Chris figured it would be best to room with someone who wasn't tied to anyone.

  Once hotel keys had been dispersed, the team grabbed their luggage and headed on up. Chris wondered where the Hanson sisters were, as well as Harper (last) was, only because they all flew on the plane together. Chris wouldn't be surprised if they hung back at the airport and waited for their friends to arrive.

  Not that they had anything to worry about. Zachary Ryan,
Brandon Thorpe, and James Negan were smitten with them, as far as Chris was concerned. And the guys on the team respected that, so it wasn't as though they would encourage bad behavior - especially since Brandon was clearly dating the person in charge of the players' career at this point.

  "All right, you goddamn beautiful bastards," Zachary said when a portion of the team filled the elevator. "Let's meet in the lobby in an hour. It's just after eleven at night, which means we still have plenty of time to tear this place up."

  There were a couple of cheers and a whistle. Chris was one of the guys who clapped. It still hadn't hit him that he was a Stanley Cup Champion. And here he was, with his team, ready to celebrate that fact. He wanted to make the most of it. He wanted to make memories he was going to remember for the rest of his life. He wanted to have a story to tell to his children and grandchildren.

  They got off on their floor and headed down a long hallway. Once they reached their rooms, they disappeared inside. Chris and Peter got a room adjacent to Zachary and James's and Kyle and Alec's. The only person who got his own room was Brandon Thorpe, which made sense because he was captain and MVP, plus he was seeing their boss.

  Chris took a moment to really breathe in the room. There were two luxurious king-sized bed, a forty-two inch flat screen, tall dresser drawers. A painting hung over each bed, both pirate-themed - one of an old map that had a big, fat red X where treasure was supposed to be, while the other was of a skeleton with a tri-corn hat and boots, leaning back in a chair, boots on a table, a pint in his hand, and amber liquid flowing down the inside of his skeleton.

  "Buddy." Peter waved him over to their window. "Look at this."

  Chris all but dashed over to the window where they could see the entire strip surrounded in luminescent colors - neon pinks, blues, purples. It was a warm night, so there were plenty of people walking up and down the street in clothes that resembled lingerie and no one even blinked. Cars were honking. The strong, unpleasant scent of dried smoke was tampered down with vanilla. Chris knew Vegas encouraged smoking so it was something he would have to get used to if he wanted to enjoy himself.

  "You wanna shower first?" Peter asked, stepping back. "Or can I -"

  "Go for it," Chris said.

  "Cool, man." Peter gave a gentle slap to Chris's shoulder to thank him before heading into the bathroom.

  While Chris waited for his own shower, he picked out the clothes he intended to wear tonight. Nothing fancy, but in Vegas, there seemed to be an unwritten rule regarding men and their own dress code. He had dark jeans and a nice, white collared shirt.

  It took another five minutes before Peter was out, and it took ten minutes for Chris to shower. When he stepped out, he attempted to hand-dry his shoulder-length hair before pulling it back into a small bun. Some women went crazy for it, others loathed it. At the very least, they would have something to talk about.

  "What time is it?" Chris asked as he emerged from the bathroom. His feet were still bare but he didn't have any fancy shoes. He would have to put on his Nikes and hope he didn't get shit for them.

  "We have another ten minutes before we're supposed to get down there," Peter said. "So, I guess we should probably talk about room etiquette and all that, huh?"

  Chris grabbed a pair of black socks and sat on the edge of his bed, pulling them on. "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "Well, if you want to take a woman - man? - whatever, if you want to take them up here, you should probably hang a sock or something on the door so I know you're in there with someone," Peter said, his hands resting on his hips. Chris pulled on the other sock before he started to work on his shoe. "And I'll do the same."

  "That sounds like a good idea." Chris began to tie his shoes but glanced up at Peter and gave him a quick nod. "If you do do that, you should text me when the room is free."

  "Agreed," Peter said. "My only concern is that I'll be so drunk I'll forget to text and-or hear the text."

  "True." Chris stood up. "That's a good point. Maybe we just go with it and see what happens. This is Vegas, after all. Anything can happen."

  Peter chuckled. "Hell yeah, it can."

  - - -

  Surprisingly, everyone was in the lobby a few minutes after the allotted hour. A couple of people recognized them and started taking pictures with them, offering to buy the whole team drinks as a way to celebrate the Stanley Cup win. Chris wanted to say yes, just because he thought it would be a cool experience to party with the fans, but Zachary Ryan apparently booked bottle service at the club downstairs, and that was where they were headed to at that moment.

  Hush was a nightclub inside the hotel, located on the third floor. They had to take the elevators down and walk through the casino - where the strong scent of cigarettes could not be tampered down - to the club. There was already a line, but Zachary Ryan headed straight for the bouncer and the entire team followed. There was no cover charge, there was nothing they needed to do. They were waved in without question.

  The music was loud and the club was already packed. A couple of the guys checked in their coats before they spilled inside the club. The walls vibrated with noise. Women already pressed themselves up against some of the team. A couple pushed away because they were already seeing people while others bent down to speak. The bar smelled like sweets and cigarettes. The floor felt sticky, like someone spilled their drinks one too many times and it was too crowded to clean it up. The dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies pressed together, bumping and grinding to a mainstream song mixed with a heavy beat. Bar tenders in black were working quickly behind the bar, grabbing beer, mixing drinks.

  Zachary led everyone to an ebony staircase roped off. A big bouncer with an expression that was unamused at best stepped back and let the group pass through. Either they knew who the team was or they knew to expect them.

  When they reached the top of the staircase, a pretty young hostess led them to three booths in the back. The team sectioned off. Some were on their phone as they settled down, texting probably their girlfriends. Dimitri Petrov, the oldest guy on the team and one of the most skilled and legendary, took a seat next to Chris and started texting someone. Chris leaned back, wondering who Dimitri was texting, considering he was going through a divorce. Maybe he was checking on his kids to ensure they arrived home safely.

  Two other hostesses came out and started passing out flutes. They popped champagne and began to pour the bubbly liquid.

  When they left, everyone raised their glass. Even Brandon Thorpe was present, a small grin on his face.

  "Okay, assholes," Negan said. "We've earned these next few nights. The parade is scheduled for a week from tonight. That means we have seven days to get a shit faced as we want before we have to show up, completely hungover and present. I wouldn't want to celebrate with any other fuckers. So let's sure we make it count."

  They downed the flutes like they were shots and split off. Dimitri stayed where he was while Peter and Solis, along with a couple of other players, headed downstairs. Chris followed. He wasn't sure what the night would bring him. All he knew was that he wanted to get more alcohol in his system in order to prepare for whatever life brought him.

  Chapter 4

  Natalie didn't know what to expect. She thought the Treasure Island theme was appropriate for the hotel they were staying at - apparently, Drew's cousin Celeste was a huge Jack Sparrow fan, so any excuse to go somewhere that had pirates was something she did often. Besides Drew, Cam, herself, and Celeste, there were was Kat and Ellie. They had two rooms, with Drew, Cam, and Natalie sharing one and Celeste, Kat, and Ellie sharing the other.

  They had gotten to Vegas just after ten o'clock in the evening. Kat, the Maid of Honor, had rented a limo that had taken them to their hotel. Apparently, Kat wasn't the only person to have thought of this because as they pulled up, two other limos were just leaving.

  "I wonder who that could be," Cam said, clapping her hands with excitement.

  "Probably a Kardashian," Drew guessed.
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  Natalie didn't care. She held her large purse against her chest, leaned back against her chair and soaked up the sights.

  When they stepped into the hotel, she was confronted by a stale scent that smelled like ash and cigarettes, but she tried not to let it bother her. Before she left, she had done her research on what to expect when in Vegas since she had never been before, and she was surprised to learned that Vegas catered to those that smoked. Which wasn't necessarily wrong, it was just something she needed to prepare for.

  Kat went to the front desk to check them in while the rest of the wedding party waited.

  "Now that you're here," Drew said, setting her bag on the ground, "I feel like it's safe to ask: what made you decide to come?"