His Game, Her Rules

by Charlene Groome

  Eileen nods slightly, giving him her full attention.

  Steve straightens up and folds his hands together. He’s the youngest of the men sitting at the table. His dirty-blond hair is feathery as though it has just been washed and left to dry. When he jots notes on his notepad, he looks sideways at Eileen and his hair slides forward, covering his forehead. “We had a horrible season last year, one we don’t ever want to repeat. We have some exceptional players, but we need to practice playing together and build chemistry with some of our new players. That’s my job, to shuffle lines, but we have a lot to do this season and we’re looking to make changes. I need to make sure we coach these guys with the full ability and dedication.”

  “No offense, Eileen, but you are a woman,” Rick says, his voice husky. He stares her down with squinted brown eyes, the same color as his tailored suit.

  “And obviously you’ve never played in the NHL,” Joe says, his mouth twitching into a smirk. He places one hand behind his head, feeling the short strands of his brown hair. He smirks again, releasing his hand to the table.

  She relaxes her shoulders. Eileen isn’t going to let him make her feel incapable. Joe’s cold stare makes his brown eyes seem black. Her body quivers and she has to look away from him before he gets the best of her.

  “You’re right. I haven’t played in the NHL,” she says with a devious smile. “But I have equal talent as the men on your team. I’ve played in the 2010 Olympics in Whistler and 2014 Olympics in Sochi—”

  “Congratulations on winning gold,” Steve interjects. “That was a huge accomplishment.”

  “Thank you. It’s one of my most prized possessions,” she admits.

  “And it should be.”

  “Did you see her on the cover of Maclean’s magazine?” Gary asks. He turns in her direction and smiles.

  “She was also on a cereal box,” Rick snaps. “I want to see the skills, not hear about them.” He taps his pen on his notepad.

  “I’ve also played for the women’s national hockey team,” she emphasizes. “And currently I run my own hockey school. I teach all ages how to skate and the fundamentals of hockey.”

  “But can you teach professional hockey players new skills?” Rick asks with a sarcastic laugh. He runs his fingers through his thinning, coffee-colored hair and stops at the crown of his head. He narrows his eyes, studying her like he’s judging her looks.

  A professional player is as good as it gets. Isn’t she considered a professional?

  Eileen steels her gaze at Rick. “Yes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe I could do the job.”

  “She can skate circles around them,” Gary interrupts and then bows his head when all eyes are on him.

  “I’m sure she can,” Rick says.

  “It doesn’t mean she can teach,” Joe snarls, puffing out his chest to make his small frame bigger. “It takes a certain attitude and skill to be able to get through to the guys.”

  “I’m not an intimidating person, is that it?” Eileen asks jokingly. She notices his stubby nose twitch.

  “Look, the boys need coaching while they practice,” Gary says. “I know you would much rather have a male teach them, but this girl’s got what it takes.” He lifts his hand up and motions it toward her as though she’s on display at an auction. “Just wait until you see her skate and see what she can do. I’ll bet my house she can show the boys some new skills.”

  Eileen takes a breath. No pressure, no pressure, she thinks, trying to calm herself.

  “We believe you, Gary,” Steve says. “But let’s face it, the guys are going to take one look at her and laugh. Sorry, Eileen, but I just don’t think this is going to work.”

  She shakes her head. Maybe they have someone else in mind for the job. Didn’t Gary tell them she was female before she arrived? What was the point of her coming here today if she didn’t have a chance? She would be at the top of her career if she got the job. Just when she is about to say that they should give her a trial run, Gary interrupts with a sales pitch.

  “Look, Ritchie is gone for approximately eight to twelve weeks—we know that. There’s no obligation to have Eileen fill in.”

  The men study Eileen as if she were some foreign object.

  Gary breaks the silence. “Who will you find in a short time that has this much experience and will be willing to take the job not knowing how long it will be for?”

  Rick bites his lower lip.

  “I brought some lesson plans.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a folder. “Obviously nothing can compare to being on the ice, but this will give you an idea of what I teach.”

  The men pass around the handouts. Their eyes skim the stapled pages.

  She would just have to fight back without words. That is, if they gave her the opportunity.

  Rick ignores the question and turns his attention on Eileen in a sharp but direct tone. “Do you honestly believe you have what it takes to teach these men performance skating?”

  Eileen is so tired of men making her feel like she is not worthy of the game.

  “Why can’t I?” Eileen snaps. She isn’t going to let these men make her feel incapable. She doesn’t need this job; she wants it. For the accomplishment, for the bragging rights, to top her resume.

  Rick pushes in his face as though caught off guard. “You may think that you can—”

  “Oh, I can,” she retorts, knowing she has nothing to lose. “I’m sure you think because I’m female I can’t do the job.”

  “I didn’t think that at all,” Rick defends. “What I’m getting at is, can you handle it? It has nothing to do with you being a woman.” He moves his chest in closer to the table and folds his hands on his notepad. “Some players may have a hard time accepting a woman instructing them,” he says, lowering his voice and making eye contact with a cold stare. “Especially when it comes to hockey. Are you going to take it personally? Or are you going to give up after a week? It won’t be easy.”

  She wouldn’t let anyone push her around and tell her she can’t do this job. No one’s stood in her way before.

  “When I’m on the ice, I give a hundred and ten percent. It’s a job that I’m passionate about.” She pauses. “I won’t be easy on them.”

  “I appreciate your effort,” Rick says with a chuckle. “But I can tell you there are at least five guys on the team who will give you a hard time. How will you handle it? I mean if you’re giving an instruction and a guy heckles you because he says he was taught the exercise when he played Bantam, how will you respond? Will you give up?”

  “Of course not!” Eileen says, resting her arms on the arm rests, trying to appear calm in front of the panel of judges. “First off, I respect—”

  “Respect is earned.” Ted lingers on the word as though giving valuable advice.

  “Yes,” Eileen agrees. “I know at first it will be hard for the guys to take, but I can assure you that once I show them how they will benefit from my instruction, I’ll earn respect.”

  “You think so?” Ted says. “It won’t be easy.”

  “I don’t expect it to be,” she answers.

  The men are once again silent, scribbling notes and staring at Eileen until the owner pipes up, “Can we see you skate? Show us what you’ve got?”

  “I brought my skates!”

  Ted glances at his watch. “We practice in an hour. It should give us enough time to see you skate, and for you to show us a few lessons.”

  “Let’s go to the rink,” Rick says. “See what you can do.” He slaps his hands down on the table before standing up.

  Eileen is determined to nail this. “I’ll get ready.” She picks up her purse.

  “We’ll be right down,” Steve says.

  Chapter 2

  Eileen opens the bench door, breathes in the cool air, and steps onto the clean, smooth ice surface. A surge of adrenaline rushes through her body as she glides on her skates, warming up before launching into instruction with Steve and Joe.

 
; She stretches out one leg at a time, making sure every joint feels flexed and every muscle is limber. She doesn’t want to disappoint her male judges or her worst critic: herself. She came prepared to show the Warriors she can do the job as well as any man.

  Steve, the head coach, joins her on the ice. “Hockey must run in the family,” he says as he strides alongside her.

  “It does,” Eileen replies, focusing on stretching out her quadriceps and hamstrings. She had time to run to her car to grab her hockey stick.

  “How long have you been playing?”

  “For as long as I can remember. My cousin Keaton Williams plays for L.A. and my dad and brother played hockey, too—not professionally, although they both always dreamed of it. And, of course, my uncle Gary.”

  “Very good,” he says. “You’ve had a lot of exposure.”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, good luck today,” Steve says, making a turn for the bench to grab a bag of pucks.

  Joe skates up to her. “Let’s get started, shall we? Show us what’s on the agenda, Ms. Francis. The guys will be on the ice in under an hour.”

  Steve dumps the pucks on the ice.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Eileen says, skating with her stick in hand and scooping up a puck as the two men trail behind, watching her every move. She stops at the goal line.

  “One exercise I teach in many of my classes is a simple passing drill called ‘follow the leader,’ ” she says.

  “They’re not amateurs.” Joe smirks.

  She ignores him and continues explaining. “This drill works for every skill level. The trick to this practice involves more than two players, making you keep your eye on where the man with the puck is,” she explains. “Wherever the player with the puck is, you need to make sure they can receive the pass as you skate toward the net. I’ll show you. Joe, follow me,” she tells him and he watches her carefully. “I’ll pass the puck to you and you do a drop pass so that Steve picks it up and skates along the boards.

  “When we have more players on the ice, they will act as the opposing team and will try to intercept the pass. Got it?”

  She skates hard and pushes Joe to make a mistake. With a few fumbles of his stick, they make it through the first drill. Eileen runs through some of her most challenging drills, hoping to win them over. When her instruction is over, she skates to the bench and grabs her water bottle for a quick drink. The two men follow.

  “Where did you learn to skate like that?” Steve asks. His grin gives her a boost of confidence.

  She gulps down some more water before replying. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re good.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles. “I’m a professional, remember?” she tells them modestly, but can’t help the grin that creeps on her lips. She eyes Joe and he gives her a cold stare.

  “And the drills? I don’t think I’ve seen those before.”

  She keeps her attention on Steve. “They’re my own.” She swallows some water. “I’ve tried something similar in one of my skating classes, but it’s less complicated, of course.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Steve says. “You run a hockey school. Well, I think your strong skills may have an impact on our team.”

  “I hope so,” she agrees. “Or I wouldn’t be here.”

  Joe pipes up, “The job will probably only be for a few weeks. Hardly worth your time.”

  “Oh, it’s worth it. Are you kidding?” She meets his dark stare again, and a shiver runs down her spine.

  “Before we make a decision, it’s up to Ted and Rick. They’re watching from the box seat.” He looks up to the near corner of the arena.

  Eileen doesn’t want to follow his eyes, afraid to find the men peering down.

  “What’s there to think about?” Eileen asks. “Either I have the job or I don’t.”

  There is a brief moment of silence, and she relaxes her stick to her side. “I can’t see what there is to think about except the fact that I’m female and that it could cause conflict for the team,” she says. “Once the guys see what I can do, I’m sure they’ll change their minds.”

  “I’ll be honest with you, Eileen,” Joe says with a straight face. “You’re right. I’m not sexist, but the competition here—”

  “There’s no competition, Joe. I’m all you have right now,” Eileen shoots back. She isn’t sure if they interviewed other people for the job, but why not be overconfident rather than mousy? All she has to do is demonstrate she has what it takes. “Give me a chance and I will prove to you that by the time this team plays their exhibition games, they will have developed new skills and—”

  Joe cuts her off. “That’s a big promise.”

  “I am confident I can do my job.”

  Steve grins and says, “Ultimately, the decision is up to Rick and Ted, but if I can give you some advice. When and if you get the job, at the next couple of practices, work the guys hard and use your skills to show them new practice drills. It will only increase your chances of keeping this job.”

  “Okay, but I hope your boys are used to hard work,” she says.

  “They know what hard work is,” Joe snaps. “They’re professional athletes.”

  “Good! So do I! We’ll work perfectly together then,” she says, driven by his lack of interest in her.

  “Hey, Coach!” a man calls out to Steve as he walks closer to the bench.

  “Caldwell!” Steve answers with a lift of his chin. His parted dirty-blond hair slides along his temples.

  Ty approaches the group; he smiles at Eileen and announces to his coaches, “Lenny phoned me, says he’s sick, maybe food poisoning? Says he couldn’t get a hold of you but would call you later.”

  “Thanks,” Steve says. “I got the message already.” He looks up at the box and gives a thumbs-up.

  “Oh, okay,” Ty says, and his blue eyes meet Eileen’s gaze before leaving. “I see you‘re back for more.”

  “You two have met?” Steve asks.

  “I let her into the building,” Ty answers. “Good to see you again.” His eyes are sucking her in like a sponge, and she can’t seem to free herself from his magnetic gaze. “Well, I’ve got to get ready. See ya!” Ty disappears down the hall, leaving her feeling warm like melted butter.

  “He’ll be one of your hardest critics,” Joe warns.

  Steve hollers, “Tell the guys I want them on the ice right away. I want to introduce Eileen to the team.” He gives her a nod and wink. “I can’t see why you don’t have the job.”

  “Seriously?” she asks.

  “Ted’s not usually this quiet. If he objects hiring you, he would have said something by now.”

  Eileen smiles. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t forget, work the guys hard during practice if you want to keep the job.”

  Ty walks into the locker room, where his teammates are tying up their skates and taping their chin guards, talking amongst themselves. “Steve wants us on the ice! Right away!” His sounds both cool and irritated.

  “What’s the rush?” Bret Thompson asks, looking up from securing his laces.

  “I don’t know,” one player says. “Probably the new skating coach.”

  “I don’t know if they hired her yet,” Ty says.

  “Her?” Bret asks.

  Ty grabs his helmet from his cubbyhole. “Yeah. Eileen Francis.”

  “What’s this organization coming to?” Bret asks, rolling clear tape around his socks.

  “I know. It blows.”

  “How do you know her name?”

  “I ran into her.”

  “Oh, yeah, she must be a killer if you talked to her,” Bret says. “What’s she like?”

  “Are you sure you talked to the right woman?” Mark Buckley asks.

  “Yeah, is she butchy and talks like a guy?” Another player mimicked a deep female voice.

  The team joins in, laughing.

  Ty snaps on his helmet. “You would think so, but not what you’d expect.”

 
; “What do you mean?”

  “She’s good looking!” Ty says. “I’m not kidding. She’s hot! I don’t know how she plans to teach us anything—we’ll be too distracted.”

  “Looks don’t mean anything,” Mark yells out from across the room.

  “Just wait until you meet her,” Ty urges. All he needs is to have the guys tease him about sleeping with the coach, but judging by her professionalism, it will take more than a simple request to make her want to have sex with him. “You’ll know what I mean.”

  “I’m sure they hired her based on her performance,” Mark yells out. “How couldn’t they?”

  “I wonder how good she can perform.” Bret smirks, as he laces up his hockey shorts. “Does anyone want to bet how long it will take before Caldwell gets her into bed? You’ve probably made the moves on her already, haven’t you, Slick?”

  Ty concentrates on lacing his skate. “I don’t know. . . . She’s cute, no doubt about that, but who knows if she’ll be able to keep up.”

  “How did she get the job anyways? You can’t tell me that there wasn’t a guy that had experience!” Bret asks.

  “I don’t know,” Ty says, walking to the door with his stick. “I was just watching her skate and she’s pretty good.”

  “She’s got to know someone in the league. How else does a woman get hired or know about the position?” Bret asks, throwing his roll of tape into his bag and walks toward the door.

  “That’s all we need, a woman telling us what to do,” Bret added.

  Another player called, “She won’t last long—one or two shifts and she’ll call it quits.”

  “It depends on her attitude. If she has one, she may stick around for a while, just like you, Slick,” says a player. “Just like you.”

  “Hey, what does having an attitude have to do with it?” Ty asks.

  “It means a lot. If she doesn’t take crap from anyone, she’ll stick around,” Mark says. “But I haven’t yet met a woman like that.”