Grace on the Rocks: A Slapshot Prequel (Slapshot Prequel Trilogy Book 2)

by Heather C. Myers

  It was only a few minutes into the game when a fight broke out. Almost as though the crowd was one cohesive unit, everybody jumped onto their feet and started to cheer. Both players – a Prisoner and Alec Schumacher – each had a tight grip on his opponent’s jersey and had already disposed of their gloves, currently littering the ice, in order to get crisper shots. Alec got clipped on the side of his forehead even though he tried to duck while the Gull managed to get at least three hits on the Prisoner’s face. Somehow, they managed to balance on the ice while fighting, which was something Emma couldn’t fathom doing herself.

  What had caused the fight in the first place? Emma had been talking to her father, not quite paying attention. The people behind her were discussing it, and she managed to overhear that the Prisoner was nudging and pushing Alec while play was elsewhere on the ice. It also looked like the Prisoner said something, too, probably about Thorpe or even the new owner. As a result, Alec turned around and the fight broke out.

  The linesmen let the fight go on for a few minutes – which seemed to shock Jeremy because he started yelling at them to break it up – before stopping it. Interestingly enough, it was the Prisoner that got sent to the penalty box, which definitely elicited some boos from the crowd due to the fact that the San Francisco had a big fan base down in Southern California.

  The power play.

  Emma felt herself lean forward unconsciously. Kyle was on the ice, along with Matt Peters and Alec. The rookie defenseman Michael Thompson and another right winger from the second line, Dimitri Petrov made up the roster. The goalie in for Brandon Thorpe was bent at the knees, preparing himself for the possibility of a turnover.

  “Who’s that?” Emma asked in a quiet voice, motioning towards the Gulls’ new goalie.

  “Sam Miller,” her father replied in the same tone. “Ken picked him up from the American Hockey League. He’s not the best and he’s not the worst. I think Ken grabbed him because he sees a lot of potential in the kid. Miller’s only twenty but you can tell with the way he plays that he’s eager to please and that he wants to do his best. But that over eagerness also causes him to fumble sometimes. I think this is a good idea, though. It’s only preseason, and I’m sure Henry Wayne wants to feel the kid out, see where he’s at in terms of skill. It’s only a couple of minutes into the game, but he seems to be doing okay.”

  Thirty seconds had passed. Jeremy explained that Wayne called the players on the ice back to the bench in order to have them rest, sending in another group. After a minute and fifteen seconds went by, he pulled the second group and sent back in the first group. The Gulls had lost the puck a couple of times, but the Prisoners merely cleared it.

  Forty-five seconds left.

  Matt Peters stood just above the blue line on the offensive zone. To his right, nearly along the boards, was Alec Schumacher. To his left, near the boards as well, was Michael Thompson. Kyle Underwood stood near the left goalpost while Dimitri Petrov was on the right. They were set, and Matt had the puck.

  Instead of rushing Matt, the four Prisoner defensemen huddled in the middle of the Gulls’ formation, each individual with their eyes on the puck. He passed it over to Michael. The rookie wasn’t able to settle the puck down, and as such, a Prisoner rushed towards him. Michael managed to get a puck over to Matt before being checked into the boards. This gave Matt a good passing opportunity to Dimitri. A Prisoner managed to get in front of the puck but he couldn’t control it. Alec picked up the rebound, skating up along the boards, before crossing it across the ice. Originally, the pass was for Dimitri but he couldn’t quite reach it. But Kyle was in a perfect position to, tilted his stick so the curve of it faced the black rubber, and tipped it into the left side of the net.

  Goal, with fourteen seconds left of the power play. The crowd jumped up and started cheering.

  The Gulls skated over to their teammate and started tapping him on his helmet, pulling him into quick hugs.

  “That kid,” Jeremy said over the roar of the crowd, “is the one to watch. I’m telling you.”

  Emma couldn’t help but smile as her eyes took in the pure and utter happiness written on Kyle’s face. She knew this wasn’t his first season of hockey, and yet every time he scored, it was as if he was a kid who just found out he was going to Disneyland. And his delight caused Emma, and probably lots of others, to feel that ecstasy as well.

  “Speaking of which,” Jeremy said as the crowd quieted and sat down once again, “how was your dinner last night? Don’t give me that look, Emma. Surely you had to know I’d figure it out. He pretty much wrote it on the stick he gave you.”

  Emma felt herself blushing at her father’s question, but he was right. She couldn’t deny it.

  “We thought it would be better if we were friends,” she managed to say. The Prisoner who had been occupying the penalty box got up and skated out onto the ice, taking his position as the referee dropped the puck. “He’s young, doing what he loves to do, and has no intention of settling down any time soon. And, well, you know me. I’m a dancer and that’s a top priority. Dating could possibly distract me, and I don’t want to take that chance.”

  Her father made a sound that didn’t sound as if he fully believed her reasoning, but he didn’t question her. Instead, he leaned back in his chair.

  “That’s probably for the best,” he agreed. “I really like the kid now, and I’m not sure how I would feel about him if the two of you were dating. I’d probably want to injure him, which would hurt our first line.”

  “Well, I’m glad you don’t have to go through that,” Emma said flatly.

  Almost as though he knew the two were talking about him, Kyle looked across the ice from his place on the Gulls’ bench and locked eyes with Emma. He gave her a small, knowing smile and she felt herself reciprocate the gesture. She even mouthed ‘Congratulations’ to which he tilted his head down in a mock-bow. Looking away, Emma pointedly ignored the slight skip in her heart and instead focused on the game before her.

  “Who is Dimitri Petrov?” Emma asked, needing to distract herself from a particular player who was trying to fully consume her thoughts. “And why was he on the ice during the power play? He’s a forward, right? Why didn’t the coach send in a second defenseman like normal?”

  As Jeremy explained that Dimitri Petrov was a fan favorite right wing defenseman for the second line, that he was pushing forty but still one of the most dominating players on the ice, not just as a Gull but among all clubs in the league. He was warm, friendly, and never rejected a fan wanting an autograph or a picture. He was also from Russia, so when he spoke, it was hard to understand him. The reason Wayne put him in the play instead of a defenseman was because the power play afforded them a better opportunity to score so the coach wanted a good number of forwards rather than defensemen.

  “Another thing about Petrov,” Jeremy added as an afterthought. “He’s sort of like the spirit of the team. See the A he wears on his jersey? It stands for alternate. So if anything happened to Peters, Petrov would take over.”

  Emma nodded. More information to take in. Power plays, second lines. And then she saw Kyle with the puck and forgot everything her father had just told her.

  Chapter 7

  “Okay Dad, I’m sure you’ve told me this before, but what is a hat trick?” Emma asked as they left their seats. The game had just finished and the three players of the game had all skated out and dispersed their sticks to waiting fans. The Gulls had managed to beat the Prisoners by one point, with the final score being five to four. Kyle Underwood had received the number one spot, and even though he gave his stick to a random person cheering in the stands, he turned around and locked eyes with her, giving her a smile. Like a secret smile shared just between the two of them. She responded with a miming of tipping her hat to him.

  “I mean,” she continued, “I get that a player scores three goals in a game, but why is it called that? And why do people actually throw hats onto the ice?”

  “Let me get
this straight,” Jeremy said. “We’ve been going games since you were ten years old, and you’re still not familiar with what a hat trick is and the tradition behind it?”

  “Dad, I was ten,” Emma said flatly. “I had books, an iPod, and food, and you never actually made me pay attention before.”

  Jeremy explained just what a hat trick was and how it came to be that fans – including Jeremy himself – threw any sort of headgear onto the ice. After Kyle’s third goal of the game, Emma watched as hundreds of people tossed various hats onto the rink, including baseball caps, fedoras, and flat caps that normally adorned the heads of golfers. However, the majority of them were Gulls hats, some looking to be brand new, bought solely for the purpose of being thrown on the ice. It seemed like a waste of fifteen dollars to buy an already too- expensive hat just to throw it away because a player happened to score three goals in one game.

  “You’re not appreciating the fact that for a player to score three games in one game is amazing,” Jeremy said. “It’s phenomenal. It’s cause to celebrate.”

  “What happens when the player scores six goals in one game?” Emma asked. “Do they get credited with two hat tricks or is it called something else?”

  “You know, stuff like that never happens anymore. The Phantom – Joe Malone – played for a team called the Quebec Bulldogs way back in 1920 and he scored seven, count them seven, goals in one game. Can you believe that?”

  Emma would have responded had someone not bumped into her. She had never seen the stadium this crowded before. Even with a win, fans filed out of the rink before the top three players were announced in order to get out of the parking lot before heavy congestion occurred. But now, fans seemed to hang around, discussing the game, the respective teams, and even Ken Brown’s murder and Brandon Thorpe’s absence. People claimed he was arrested, others claimed he was just brought in for questioning. Some people claimed the goalie was innocent while others claimed he definitely did it.

  Just off to the side, Emma caught sight of two men shoving each other, and by the looks on their faces, she had a feeling the shoving match would only escalate. Along with the increased numbers of people in attendance, Emma did notice there was an increase in security, and not just any type of security, but security guards who probably moonlighted as bouncers at popular nightclubs that lined Pacific Coast Highway.

  “Dad, is it just me or is the atmosphere tonight... different?” Despite the noise, Emma tried to ensure that her voice was quiet. She didn’t want the wrong person to overhear and cause any trouble with her and her father.

  “Yeah, there’s definitely more tension than there normally would be, even with the Gulls playing the Prisoners,” Jeremy said with a nod. “The fans are pretty nasty when we play them, but what with the whole murder thing and Thorpe being taken in for questioning, they’ve only gotten worse. And as much as I like to say that we have classy fans – which we do in most circumstances – even our fans seem to be turning against the team.”

  “But what more do they want?” Emma asked. “When are they just going to be happy? Brandon Thorpe was just brought in for questioning even though the uncle is the main suspect. Do you think the police just gave in to pressure? I thought they didn’t really have anything on Thorpe.”

  “I have no idea what they have on him,” Jeremy said, shrugging his shoulders. “They could have something; they may have nothing. It sounds like the latter since they only brought him in for questioning. But I wouldn’t put it past the cops to take him in because of that pressure from the residents of Newport Beach. They can be quite affluent, you know.” He gave his daughter a look and Emma rolled her eyes. Her father constantly told her how influential people from Newport Beach could be since, for the most part, everybody had or came from money.

  “But it’s not even that,” Emma protested. “Not only is Thorpe down at the station but the Gulls won. Without him. Why are people still mad?”

  “People are never going to be satisfied,” Jeremy said. “You give them what they want, they’re just going to find something wrong with it or ask for something else. If the police really don’t have anything on Thorpe, then they basically gave into these people who have no idea what’s really going on which means they did this because they wanted everybody to shut up. But people aren’t going to. They’re just going to want more or criticize what they did receive.”

  As they walked out the doors of the stadium, Emma nearly toppled over because another group of people ran into her. No one from the group had apologized or helped steady her. They kept talking as though they hadn’t even noticed her, hadn’t noticed bumping into another human being. Luckily, Jeremy reached over and helped his daughter regain her balance. Emma noticed the warm brown of her father’s eyes darken, which usually happened when he was upset with something.

  “Watch it!” he called after the group. It was the first time in a while that Emma felt herself get embarrassed by something her father did. “Dad,” she hissed in a quiet voice. “Come on. It’s not a big deal.”

  “They didn’t even apologize,” he muttered.

  It wasn’t long before they managed to get to their car, but both knew it would be at least fifteen more minutes before they got out of the lot due to the number of pedestrians and other cars trying to get out as well. Emma rested her forehead on the cool window, her eyes sculpting the remaining crowd. The press was still there, hoping to get a comment from someone important – like Seraphina Hanson or a player or even a coach – but probably settled from a fan’s point of view on the current situation the Gulls’ were in.

  “Honey, you know how people are,” Jeremy said. His tone was filled with annoyance but Emma knew it wasn’t because of her. Jeremy looked tired; whatever case he was working on was really getting to him.

  “The fans want the Gulls to win and at the same time, they want Thorpe to take responsibility for Ken’s death. They need to blame someone for the death and it’s easy to target Thorpe because of the fact that he wanted more money in exchange for remaining on team. Fans were already turning against him.”

  Emma nodded but there was something she didn’t quite understand. “But I don’t get it,” she murmured. “One day, the cops are all gung-ho about it being the uncle and now they’re questioning Thorpe.”

  “Well, The Orange County Register’s website has this video up where Alan basically takes a stand not only against Thorpe, but against Seraphina as well,” Jeremy continued. “I’m certain he’ll be all over the news tonight and in the papers tomorrow morning. Apparently, the police have officially cleared him as a suspect.”

  Emma rolled her eyes, too frustrated to speak.

  “It’s the Miller kid I’m worried about,” Jeremy went on. He had pulled out of his parking spot and was now in a long line of cars waiting to exit the lot. “He’s twenty years old, brought up from the AHL. The kid’s got some confidence issues he needs to deal with. You saw how shaky he was, and yeah, we might have won and everything, but I think that’s more in thanks to our defense rather than Miller. He did let in four goals after all. And all the pressure to step into Thorpe’s shoes, so to speak, is getting to him. I think he needs to practice more and build up his confidence. The fans have no problem being vocal and” –

  Emma decided to tune her father out now that he was obviously going on a tangent. It normally happened when he got tired and was frustrated about something. He just went on and on and on. Which Emma had no problem pretending to listen to his rumblings. Jeremy needed someone to vent to, and he barely asked any questions or her opinion, so her attention wasn’t totally required.

  Instead, Emma let her mind focus on the dance, going over the moves in her head. She would probably get home and practice the routine some more even though she’d be up in the morning, practicing it again. There was one part of the dance – the breakdown in the middle of the song where things slowed down even more – that she wanted to tighten up. Especially since this Friday, she would start teaching her team the da
nce. She wanted to make sure she had perfected it before she started teaching it because if she couldn’t get it perfect, then she had no right to expect her team to get the moves down perfect. And she wanted them to get it right – as high-strung and anal as it sounded, she would accept nothing less than perfection. To be fair, though, she was the best choreographer on campus – possibly in Newport Beach and Irvine – and she told those that auditioned for her team that her expectations would be high and they would stay high throughout the fall quarter. If they couldn’t handle it, they needed to leave. If Emma thought they couldn’t handle it throughout the quarter, she would ask them to leave. Once she did that, there would be no return for the dancers.

  As of yet, Emma couldn’t tell how the team would do with this particular group. The auditions she held were rigorous and she chose the best twelve people – six girls and six guys – but that didn’t mean this particular routine would sit well with them. It was fun. It was complicated, but if executed correctly, it would be brilliant. She hoped that was enough to inspire enthusiasm in her team.

  “-the fighting is just getting completely out of hand. If Henry Wayne doesn’t get a hold of the team, I wouldn’t be surprised to see an increase in injuries at the start of the season, and that’s not going to go over well with the team. There’s already a chance that Thorpe might not be back for the season – even if he isn’t arrested or is found not guilty, there’s his reputation to take into account, and not only that, but he might decide not to resign with the Gulls and get traded to another team – and if Alec Schumacher keeps fighting – you saw that cut on his forehead. I have no idea why he didn’t bandage that up, even if it was received a few minutes before the game ended – he might get some serious damage done, and if we lose him, our first line takes a hit. Plus, Kyle Underwood – he’s a beast on the ice – but he’s also an instigator, ready to get into the heads of the other team. Which is fine, a good tactic. But he’s that type of guy – like Alec – who can say the wrong thing at the wrong time and piss people off. And the crazy part is that the refs are actually letting them fight which” –