She wanted to stop reading and get to business, but her customer wasn’t here yet. Skimming the article, she found out that Dominic started game one and two, and Kaden played game three and four. It was undecided who was starting the next round. She was glad that the torture she’d put Dominic through hadn’t messed with his game. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for herself.
Opening another Renegades article led to photos of the players. They were enjoying themselves in New York. The photos were from Twitter and appeared to be posted by fans. Times Square and the Empire State Building were the first two locations. Dominic and Kaden were in every photo, and in almost every image, there were girls hanging all over them. Everyone had big smiles or goofy grins.
Her stomach started to twist and her chest tightened. A few of the photos made her ill. The same two girls, who were who were very beautiful, appeared in every photo. Including at the Central Park Zoo and on what looked like a relaxing, if not romantic, gondola ride at Central Park Lake. He really is moving on. This is proof.
Hailee closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why did I look at this? His arm was hooked around the brunette in some of those photos. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes.
“Miss Valentine?” a man asked, interrupting her downward spiral.
He stood towering over her. She cleared her throat and tried to blink the tears back to keep them from falling. Those stupid photos had made her forget all about her meeting. “Mr. McKnight?”
Wearing a designer suit, he carried a briefcase and had his cell phone in his hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Valentine.” He set down his case and held out his hand to her, then took a seat across the table.
She opened her laptop and pulled up her webpage. “All of the paintings that I have for sale are listed on here.” She turned the laptop towards him. “You’re welcome to look through them. Just let me know which one your client is interested in.”
Mr. McKnight looked from her to the laptop screen. He clicked through each painting, checking his notes with each one. “Miss Valentine, would you mind terribly if I called my client to consult with him?”
“No, not at all. I’ll go get a refill on my coffee while you do that.” Hailee felt odd sitting there while he talked to the mystery client. Even after getting another Iced Mocha, she stood at the counter and watched him. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d forgotten to eat this morning. Her favorite pastry called to her from the bakery case and her stomach rumbled again. “Excuse me, can I get a cheese Danish, please?” I have no willpower. Hunger won out.
McKnight was clicking through each painting. She could hear him describing them each over the phone. This is silly, me standing here, lingering. He didn’t ask for privacy. While nibbling on her Danish, she made her way back to the table and sat down.
He nodded at her with a small smile and continued to describe the paintings. “Uh-huh, I see. Are you sure? Okay. So that’ll be… yes, I know you can add. Sorry. But will your— Yes, I know, but the accountant… Right, you’re absolutely right, a worthwhile investment. I’ll talk to you later today.”
Worry filled her stomach; the coffee and Danish weren’t sitting too well now. Maybe my asking price is too high. Or maybe they aren’t what he wanted. I was silly to get so excited. “It’s okay if you don’t—”
Mr. McKnight put his hand up midsentence, stopping her. “My client, he’ll take all of them.”
Hailee shook her head. Apparently I didn’t hear him correctly. “I’m sorry, what?” The paintings she chose to put on her online gallery were in the range of one thousand to fifteen hundred dollars each. Alison helped her have them valued before she priced them to avoid gouging anyone; she was told that two thousand each would be a fair price, but to her that sounded absurd.
“He wants to purchase all of them. Is that possible?” Mr. McKnight seemed to turn green as he said the words.
“Um, yes. Absolutely.” She quickly tried to add up the total in her head. Twenty paintings were currently online. “Let me write you an invoice.” She rummaged through her purse before finding her book of invoices.
“My client sees you are asking roughly one thousand dollars per painting.”
“Yes, well. I had them valued. And I understand if he feels that’s too much…” She tripped over her words. Fear curdled inside her at the thought of losing this sale. She’d charge whatever he wanted at this point, if he in fact still wanted all of them. “I could—”
“That’s the thing, Miss Valentine. My client has looked them all over, and had his accountant look into the value of each.” He paused and pulled out his checkbook. “You’ve undervalued your own work, my dear. My client would like to give you two thousand for each, which he considers to be a more fair price.” He wrote out a check, ripped it out of the book and handed it to her.
“What?” He wants to give me more than I’m asking for my paintings? She looked down at the check, written out to her for forty thousand dollars. Forty thousand!
“Is that satisfactory?” Mr. McKnight asked.
Hailee took a moment to find her voice, and took a deep breath to calm her trembling insides. The last half hour had been such a roller coaster of emotions for her. A lump formed in her throat as a photo of Dominic and that girl came to mind. Pushing those feelings aside, she chose to be happy for the minute. This is what she’d been waiting for. “Yes. That’s wonderful. I just need an address I can have them all delivered to.” That check would allow her to pay for the first year’s lease on her space. She had worked her ass off to save enough for the down payment, but that was irrelevant now. With forty thousand, she could quit the club and devote all of her time to painting, advertise her gallery in the proper publications, and get her name out there.
This is really happening.
“About that,” he started. “My client asked for me to arrange to have them picked up. If you can just have them packed and ready to ship, I’ll send for them. You just tell me when and where. Here’s my card. Email me the details.” Looking at his watch, he rose and shook her hand. “Miss Valentine, it was a pleasure doing business with you. I need to get going, but there is one more thing before I do.”
“Sure.”
“My client would like to commit to a per painting order. Um,” he shook his head. “I don’t think I’m saying it right. He’d like to commission you for twelve more pieces, to start.”
“Twelve more?” She was already going to be working extra hard to replace the ones he just bought, and now he wanted twelve more?
“Of course the timeline for completion will be negotiated. He’s estimating at least two thousand a painting.”
Her heart raced. This was more money than she expected to make as an artist, especially when she’d been bringing in zero these last few years. “Is he looking for a specific topic? Or where will he be displaying these?”
Mr. McKnight looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “Let’s just say he’s a fan of ice hockey, and works with various charities for children. He’ll be donating some to them. So anything ice hockey, such as professional in arenas, little leagues, children playing outdoor pick-up games. Anything similar to your current work. He was drawn to the hockey aspect, the bright colors and the cheerful feelings they gave off.”
She scribbled all of these things down on her tablet. She could do this; that was her thing.
McKnight glanced at his watch again. “I really do need to go. All my information is on my card; please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He gathered up his papers.
“Okay, um, I will talk to you soon.”
Once he left, she sat and stared at the door in silence. She had to keep looking at the check to make sure it had all really happened. Forty thousand dollars.
“Hey Hailee, meeting over already?” Alison’s voice interrupted her mental freak-out. Alison frowned and tilted her head to look at her. “Did it go okay?”
“Did it go okay? Ali, you have no idea.”
Alison sat down across t
he table with her coffee. “So? Fill me in. Did he buy more than one? I see you have a check in your hands. Who is the buyer? Is it someone famous?”
Looking at the check, Hailee shook her head. The buyer was still a mystery. All the header said was DVZ Inc. Whatever that is. She shrugged. “Still no idea who he is. But he likes hockey.”
“So it went well?”
“Did it go well?” Hailee repeated the question and paused for dramatic effect. She slowly turned the check to show Alison. “Looks like I’m finally getting my gallery.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Dominic
It was May and Dom was happy to still be playing hockey. The Renegades easily made it to the third round. They beat Washington in round two in five games. Dom played the first pair of games and Kaden finished the series off. Somehow this switching back and forth was working. He hadn’t been convinced that it would. Dom liked to play every game when he was on a roll, not sit on the bench and watch. Staying calm and letting Coach Walker take the lead was a learning curve for him, but finally it was sinking in. The nights off helped him recover and be fresh for his next game.
The third round didn’t start off to plan. Kaden was in net and was on his way to a shutout when Boston’s defense took a run at him. Without even an attempt to stop himself, the Boston player skated with force into Kaden, pushing him backwards off his skates and into the net. Kaden, unable to catch himself, smashed his head against the goal post as he went down, but he got up and waved off any help.
The next rush at their net didn’t help matters. Boston’s Rancy took a slap shot that deflected right off Kaden’s mask, knocked it up into the air and landed him on his back on the ice. He didn’t hit his head off the ice, but he appeared not to have his bearings once he stood back up.
Kaden was directed off the ice by the trainers with minimal help, but his bell got rung. Which meant Dom was going in cold. Kaden didn’t return, and luckily Dom held the shutout. He figured he would play the first two games and see where they stood; maybe Kaden could come back in. But bad news followed — Kaden was out with concussion symptoms. Indefinitely.
By the time game three came, the series was tied at one game apiece, and no new update on Kaden. The front office wasn’t releasing any information to the media on how he was doing. He wasn’t practicing with the team right away, and it was starting to affect the attitude in the locker room. Dom worried he wouldn’t be able to carry these games all by himself.
Boston wasn’t letting up, and with Kaden out, Dom continued to play in net. Night after night he left the ice dehydrated; one night he even needed an IV. But he pushed on. He had no other choice.
The team had called up Robbie Higgins from their farm league as backup goaltender, but being that this was Higgins’ first time on the PHL bench, they would play Dom as long as they needed to.
They could close out the series tonight in game six if they won. If Boston won, they’d push the series to seven with it tied at three games apiece. But Dom didn’t want that to happen.
Tonight he’d already been slashed in the neck with a stick and over-extended the muscle in his shoulder while leaping across the net to stop a shot. He was going to make sure they left this ice tonight the winners, at any cost.
The third period started slow. Tyler and Kris did all they could to keep possession of the puck and out of their own zone. Then Kyler had a turnover and lost the puck to Rancy. Dom eyed Rancy up while he rushed down the ice on a breakaway. The rest of the Boston guys were far behind. Dom slid side to side, preparing for whatever kind of shot Rancy was going to make. The closer Rancy got to the net, the deafening roar of the Boston crowd was silenced in Dom’s ears, until all he could hear was his own heartbeat.
Rancy deked to his left, then switched to his right. All Dom could think to do was flatten his pads against the ice, his legs stretching post to post, and hope Rancy didn’t pop it up. Dom was tall enough that he filled the width of the crease. As his left skate closed off the gap between him and the post, the puck slid in that direction and was stopped under his leg pad.
The roar, well, now booing of the crowd, returned to his ears. He had stopped the shot. The Renegades still led the game 2–1. The crowd was not happy at the missed goal, and tossed a variety of items onto the ice, voicing their displeasure and stopping play before the teams could face off.
Dom skated back and forth, trying to stay loose as the refs and ice crew cleaned up the mess of cups, programs, and whatever else was tossed. The fans were warned. Another incident of things being thrown onto the ice would give Boston a delay of game penalty.
There were only two minutes left in the third period. Even with the displeased roar of the crowd, all the Renegades had to do was hang on.
Dom’s hip and shoulder ached, his neck throbbed where he was chopped with the stick, and he was tired. But he was determined to do this for the team. Winning tonight meant one extra day of rest before the final series started. Not knowing if Kaden would play at all in the finals, he’d take any extra rest he could get.
He looked up at the scoreboard; just two minutes remained. He took a deep breath and nodded to Tyler. “Let’s do this, boys!” he yelled as he got into position. When the puck dropped, Kris shot it to Boston’s end in Tyler’s direction. Tyler had a clear breakaway, and flipping the puck over the goalie’s shoulder, he buried it into the back of the net.
The buzzer sounded and the Renegades had won; they would move on to the final series, winner gets the Cup.
The Renegades filed out onto the ice, cheering and yelling, making a beeline for Dom. They all head-butted him or tapped him on his helmet, telling him “Good game.” It was a big win for them, but no one wanted to celebrate too hard and jinx it; they still had four more games to win.
Tyler and Kris waited outside the bench as the rest of the team went to the locker room. Dom brought up the rear of the line, but stopped at Kris and pulled off his glove to do their usual goofy handshake. It was tradition after a win. “Zanetti, great game!”
After a head-butt with Kris, they both skated to Tyler. He held his hand out for a fist bump and tapped his stick against Dom’s leg pads. “That post to post save, Zanetti…”
“I didn’t want it to go fucking five-hole. Not again.”
“Well, you stopped it, but damn that looked like it hurt.” Tyler winced.
The locker room cheered as Dom entered. “You’d think I was a superstar or something. Damn.”
Matt started a “Meatball” chant, just as Kaden entered the room in his game day suit. He gave Dom a few punches in the arm and chanted along with the other guys. “Good game out there, dude.”
* * *
As the plane was landing in Pittsburgh, Dom wasn’t tired yet. He should be exhausted and asleep on his feet, but he was far from that. “So, I’m thinking of going to get a drink before going home. Maybe just down the road at Shamrock. Kaden, do you wanna join me?” Shamrock was the local bar just down the road from their place.
“I’m going to have to pass, Dom. Sorry about that. Docs don’t want me drinking alcohol yet. Plus, I’m meeting up with Ali for a bit.”
“Ali, huh? Don’t hurt that one. She isn’t like your normal bunny.”
“I know; no worries.” Kaden rolled his luggage towards his car. “Don’t wait up. And be good, okay?”
“Yeah, I will. I just need to unwind. You are being cleared to play the next round. Right?”
“That’s what they tell me. Between you and me, I fucking hope so. Well, I’m out, man. See you later.”
Dom tossed his bag into his truck and drove in silence back toward his apartment, turning in to the Shamrock parking lot instead. It wasn’t too busy, which suited him fine. He sat down on the empty side of the bar and ordered a beer. The last series took a lot out of him. This final series will be better with Kaden. He’d been wrong about wanting to play every game and stay on a roll. He let out a breath and took a long sip of the cold beer. “Bartender, excuse me. I’m
going to need another one as soon as I’m done with this one, thanks.” Two beers then he was out of here, since he had his truck. The benefit of this place was they could walk when they wanted to have a night out drinking.
“Wow. You’re Dominic Zanetti!” A women’s voice startled him and annoyed him at the same time. She looked to be in her early twenties, long bleach blond hair, big blue eyes, and a one-piece dress that hugged every curve.
He couldn’t help but look her over; she was standing right in front of him, her hand on her hip, her curves for the world to see. Damn.
“I was just watching you on television. You were amazing tonight.” She sat down next to him, and ran her fingers along his arm, then pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I thought maybe you could be amazing with me, what do you say?” Her fingers trailed down his arm then down to his thigh.
She pulled out her phone and held it above her head, looked at him and said, “Say cheese!” He noticed at the last moment she tilted the phone to get her hand on his leg in the photo, and snapped a selfie. Great, more pics of me and bunnies for social media. That’s what I need right now.
His body responded as any red-blooded man would, he got a nice chubby as her fingers moved along his leg towards his crotch. It would be so easy to take her back to the apartment, rock her world then send her on her way. Something told him she wasn’t one to hang around, which would make it that much easier.
His phone buzzed. “Excuse me.” Looking at his phone, he saw he had a text from Hailee. It simply said: Nice Game. Good luck in the Finals.
She’d watched. Obviously he was on her mind, just as she was on his. The blonde sitting next to him was no interest to him. Hailee was on his mind and she wasn’t going anywhere. She was the only one he’d been thinking about. He grabbed the second beer and downed it. He’d had enough temptation tonight, because he was horny as hell now, but the only woman he wanted was Hailee. He turned to the girl sitting next to him. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
Shutout (The Renegades Series Book 5) Page 22