The other Ice Bandits came out, one by one, for their practice on this day; Zach Lambert was there, and Dale Wallace, Mike DeBerry, and Kyle MacDonald. The Olympic break was over, and now, it was back to business. And it was bound to get crazy. Late February—he never could remember dates—and all of March, a few days in April, and then the playoffs. The second season. And that’s when things really got interesting.
Zach skated to the end of the rink. “Hey, Sparky! Wanna race?” He called to Brandon, using the nickname he’d picked up as a young phenom.
Brandon took off like a puck out of hell.
He felt a lot better out on the ice. The rink was where he belonged. Brandon loved the feel of skating, and how he became unaware that he was on skates as he played his beloved game. The interaction of the team and all his guys made him forget Terri and the ring and his various aches and pains. No one but his buddy Zach knew what happened at the Olympic Village. Brandon told him, but didn’t go into much detail.
Coach Jacques LeFebvre, known as Coach Jock, watched his players intently. He spotted every little change, every change of speed and puck handling, and wasn’t afraid to speak up and tell his men exactly what needed to be done, what could be better. He expected everyone to do his best, every time out. “Always play your best,” he told the players, “then everyone can see how good you really are.”
Brandon and the others skated off the rink, sweaty and tired, but Coach Jock wasn’t finished yet. He addressed his team.
“We have the rest of the season to go. And it’s a lot of season. Tonight, we play Milwaukee. Yes, an expansion team, but they can beat you. If you slack off, if you assume you are better than they are, you will not win. You can never assume anything in this game.”
“You’re telling me,” said Dale, the big enforcer who had been with the team for five years, through a lot of lean times.
The guys fidgeted as Coach went on. They knew a video of the Milwaukee Thunderbirds was coming. Brandon made up his mind to watch and concentrate. He’d play the game the best he could. If he didn’t, there were half a million guys ready and willing to take his place. Then after the video, there was a long workout ahead of him.
Brandon would put his all into his game. It was all he had, after losing the one he trusted the most. He could trust his game and his team, but not a woman. Never again.
“I tell you, Greta. I was ready to throw that son of a bitch out the window. If I set the place on fire, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“Okay, Ma. Now I know what to get you for your birthday. A new toaster.”
“And I bought that thing on sale. I should know better. You know the toast is done when the big puffs of black smoke rise up. Then you throw away the black toast, and you start all over.”
Greta sighed. Her mother and her housekeeping troubles.
“Hey, Ma. I saw a new kind of toaster. You can see through it, and watch the toast burn.”
“Greta, please don’t be smart. That toaster drives me crazy.” Then she changed the subject abruptly, as she did when she didn’t like the conversation. “How’s work? How’s the jewelry business? I hear gold is out of sight.”
“Yes, it is. We’re pretty busy.”
“You be careful in that store. All kinds of crazies in the world. You could get robbed. Are you ever in the store by yourself?”
“No, Ma.” Greta didn’t want to tell her about the guy who came in and demanded his gold ring. Mom might nag her to quit her job. “We have good security.”
“You be careful, honey. I always worry about you. By the way, how’s your girlfriend April? Did she get married yet?”
“No, Ma. She isn’t even seeing anyone.”
Greta’s mother sighed. “What is it with these girls and their careers? I was married and already had you by the time I was your age. And she’s a nurse. I bet she meets lots of good-looking doctors.”
“Ma, real life isn’t like that. Everyone is so busy.”
Greta finally hung up, after a lecture on why she, and April, should get married.
Ma was right. The world was full of crazies. She wished everyone would leave her alone, to live her own life the way she wanted.
Greta liked her job. She enjoyed jewelry, and creating and selling new styles and pretty things for her customers to wear. There were hassles—there were in any field—but she liked her work, and wanted to keep doing it as long as she could.
She especially liked working with gold. The yellow metal always meant wealth, but that wasn’t her only reason. Gold was malleable, soft, and able to be manipulated and formed and molded into whatever shape she wanted.
Gold did what she wanted and expected it to do.
Not like people. Particularly men people. She didn’t want to get married to some guy who told her what to do.
Chapter 3.
“Look at April. Since when do you wear all that eye makeup?”
“Since three Ice Bandits players come to visit.” April walked quickly to the nurses’ station. “When are they coming?”
Karen, the nurse manager of the unit, looked at her clipboard. “They should arrive about twelve noon, but they’ll probably be late. Each one will visit one floor. Brandon Taylor will be on our floor.”
April smiled. “Good! He’s cute. And one of the best defensemen in the game.”
Karen continued, “After seeing some of the kids, the three players will go to the auditorium and talk.”
She went on as Greta entered the area. Greta ran up to her friend, pushing her blond bangs out of her eyes. “Jesus! This place is hard to find. I couldn’t get a parking space. Then I couldn’t find the front entrance. I tried asking directions, but everyone ignored me. Including security.”
April saw Karen, her boss, glaring at them, and she spoke up. “My friend Greta said she’d meet me for lunch today.”
“You picked a good day. Three Ice Bandits hockey players are coming.”
“I wouldn’t know any to see them.” Greta looked for a place to sit down, and hang up her winter coat.
“Put your stuff in the conference room,” April told her. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Greta walked down the long hall, following April. She heard a child cry, then scream. She looked around.
“They’re drawing blood on that patient. Little ones don’t like being stuck. Neither do big people!” April showed Greta the conference room; the room was spacious but nearly every inch was cluttered. There was a row of lockers on one wall, a table covered with papers, pens and alcohol wipes, and shoes scattered all over the floor. “Hang up your coat anywhere you want, wherever there’s room.” There was an area way in the back with wooden pegs on the wall to hang coats, but some of the pegs were missing, and the good ones were all used. One or two coats lay on the floor, among some shoes and cardboard boxes.
“I didn’t know some hockey players were going to come. Maybe this isn’t the best day…”
April looked in the mirror, primping her hair. “It’s all right. We have a good looking one coming here. It’s about time you met someone, Greta.”
“You sound like my mother. I’m not in the market. And I don’t know if I want a hockey player anyway. They’re tough, and always fighting.”
“And lots of them are cute and rich.” The girls heard a commotion from the station. The special guests had arrived.
“They’re here! The three players are here! Let’s go!” April all but ran back to the station.
The three young men, clad in blue home jerseys and jeans, stood out among the female nurses, the nurse manager, and some visitors who had come to see the players. Zach and Brandon wore their newly earned gold medals from the Winter Olympics; the large medals gleamed on their broad chests. “I no have medal,” said Vyto, “but you see me wear the Ice Bandits symbol, with much pride.”
Brandon, six foot two in regular shoes, towered over the petite nurses’ aide who asked for his autograph.
“Brandon Taylor. Look at him. He’s bett
er looking in person.”
Greta took a good look at the Ice Bandit, and recognized him. But not from hockey games.
He was the guy who came into her shop asking for his missing gold ring.
“Come on, Greta. Meet a real live…”
“April. I met him before. Remember I told you about that jerk who came into the store?”
She didn’t pay attention, as she joined the crowd around the players.
Brandon signed his name—his handwriting was worse than a doctor’s-- and chatted with all the hospital workers who wanted to talk to him. Always agreeable with fans, he tried to accommodate all of them.
Then he spotted Greta.
She looks familiar, he thought, then he recalled the day at the jewelry shop, and the girl behind the counter who threw him out the door.
Bold as a hockey player should be, he approached her.
“Ever find that gold ring?” They both said at once.
Greta laughed despite herself. She had to be nice. She was at April’s workplace, and she didn’t want to embarrass her best friend.
Brandon smiled. “I guess this isn’t the time and place to talk about rings.”
He looked so good, standing right in front of her. She didn’t pay attention to his looks when he came to the store; he was just another customer. But she sure paid attention now.
Yes, he was a good-looking guy. His features were handsome but not perfect; his nose was a bit crooked, and there were traces of stitches on his chin. His long dark hair curled on the back of his neck. His eyes were blue as a clear Canadian sky, fringed by long lashes. His body, his arms and legs, were strong and muscular, from years of working out.
He was something to look at, to stare at, even if he was in regular clothes and not a NHL jersey with a gold Olympic medal.
Greta couldn’t stop looking at him. He didn’t look that good in the store, but that was different. He was upset about losing his ring. Now he was mingling with fans and patients, in a good mood. He had an easy smile, which the female fans loved.
“Are those your real teeth?” A young patient piped up, and everybody laughed.
“They sure are, pal,” Brandon said, picking him up in his big arms. “I paid for them.”
The patient, a little boy about five, looked straight into his eyes. “You play for the Ice Bandits.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I saw you check that fool from New York. Pow! You clobbered him!” He waved his tiny fist.
Brandon blinked at the young fan. Greta had to laugh.
“You are one tough customer,” Brandon told the young patient. “Do you play hockey?”
“I used to, before I got sick.”
The boy told Brandon his story, and he listened, as if he were listening to his coach. He seemed interested, nodding and smiling.
“Okay, sport. I have some other patients to see. Hope to see you again sometime.” He gave the boy to his mother.
“Thank you for being so nice,” she told Brandon.
“It’s all right…”
“He has more surgery coming. I have no idea when he’ll get out of here. But I appreciate your coming here, and being so kind.”
Brandon looked sober. He continued to visit young patients, stopping at each room, making sure everyone who wanted an autograph got one, and answering as many questions as he could. More than one female employee asked Brandon if he was married. He just said, “No.”
Greta all but forgot lunch with April as she watched the hockey player mingle with staff, patients and their parents; many were Ice Bandits fans. Both patients and parents faced long, hard days in the hospital, and the visit by an Ice Bandit meant the world to these people. Brandon realized this, as he continued to mingle with the kids.
He looked different as he spoke to the children. His face looked soft, and he smiled at everyone, not just the youngsters. He didn’t look anything like the angry customer who marched into the store, stepped into the sticky gum, and demanded his gold ring back.
Greta walked with the nurse manager, without thinking, following him. She was never that much of a sports fan—she thought athletes were dumb and overpaid, and too full of themselves—but this Brandon Taylor was a decent guy. She listened to him answer questions, fan questions. She didn’t understand much of it, but she found it interesting, and wanted to learn more about this game.
Especially from a player like Brandon Taylor.
“I’m not that big a fan,” said Karen, “but my husband is. I had to meet this guy. How about you?” She turned and looked directly at Greta, forgetting she had come to eat lunch with April. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Are you Brandon’s wife, or his girlfriend?”
Greta thought, she wouldn’t mind that at all.
“Oh, I bet you came with the PR crew to help out,” Karen answered her own question. You gotta have staff here too. What’s it like to work for a big sports team like the Ice Bandits? It’s a challenge being a nurse manager, let me tell you.”
“Hey, let’s go to lunch before the cafeteria closes.” April rescued her. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Greta would just as soon skip lunch and keep watching Brandon, but she couldn’t blow off her friend. “Yes, I am. What’s for lunch?”
Brandon was making his way back to the station, with a group of kids and parents. “I hate to leave, but I have practice, and a game tonight. We have to make a speech, too.”
“More players are here,” one of the youngsters spoke up. “Zach Lambert and Vyto Snarskis.”
“The best goalie! Snarskis!” A little boy said, repeating the Lithuanian name.
Zach and Vyto came to pick up their teammate, who stopped at a water fountain.
Greta saw her chance, and ran up to him.
“Brandon? Brandon. I’m sorry about that day at the store.”
He wiped his mouth. “I am too. I was so upset about the ring.”
Greta watched him wipe his mouth, lick his lips.
She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
“What’s your name?” He looked down at her with those clear blue eyes.
“Greta. Greta Patton.”
“Hey, Sparky!” Zach punched Brandon’s shoulder. “Let’s get moving! Duty calls.”
Brandon liked what he saw. He didn’t want to look away from the blonde with the pretty smile. “Well…see you around.” He left with his teammates.
Greta didn’t know when or where she could ever see him again, and she didn’t like that thought. Where would she ever run into a pro hockey player? She knew he’d never return to her store, looking for that ring.
“For lunch today,” April recited, “we have a choice of spaghetti with meatballs, a grilled chicken sandwich, or the Chef’s Surprise.”
“Surprise me,” said Greta.
“Probably what they served last Friday. Whatever’s left over. But sometimes it’s good, and that’s a real surprise.”
Greta was surprised enough that day. She found herself attracted to this hockey player, rich and successful, good-looking to a fault, and kind to children. But she tried to put Brandon Taylor out of her mind. She’d never see him again, and besides, she was never a hockey fan to begin with.
Chapter 4.
“Now I want this pizza well done. Sausage needs to be cooked, and I mean cooked. I don’t want to get sick. Sausage should be a nice dark brown color.”
Greta rolled her eyes, listening to her mother order a pizza. She was at her mother’s condo, helping her to move her couch so she could vacuum behind it. Mother said she’d buy lunch.
“And make sure the crust is well done too. I want it crispy, and not light brown. And cut it all the way through.”
Mother paused, listening to the phone girl read back her order.
“No, I didn’t say pie cut. Did I say that? I said cut all the way through. What do you mean, you don’t know what I mean? What word don’t you understand? Cut…all…the…way…through!”
Greta would have
hung up on that customer, mother or no.
“Last name is Patton. No, Pat-ton, not Patterson. I said delivery, not pick up. How much is the total? Geez Louise, that’s a lot for a small pizza. Okay, thank you. And please be on time. We’re hungry.” Mother hung up. “What a dumb broad.”
“Ma. She’s trying to help.”
“She didn’t know what I meant by cut all the way through.” Mother opened her purse, taking out her wallet.
“I can pay for it, Ma.”
Mother sat on a kitchen chair. “Let me, honey. I know you work hard. Do you eat lunch? Some people work through lunch. I hope you don’t do that.”
Greta slapped her hips and rear. “Look, Ma. I gained five pounds. I eat too much.”
“Go on, you’re a healthy young lady. You don’t want to be like those skinny models. They look like skeletons.”
No arguing with Mother.
“Say, how’s your girlfriend April? Is she doing all right?”
“She’s fine. We had lunch the other day. I met her at work. A couple of Ice Bandits players were there, too. One was kind of cute.”
“Ice Bandits? The basketball team?”
“No, Ma. Ice. Hockey.” Greta opened a cabinet and took out two paper plates.
Mother reached for a pile of napkins. “Hockey players. They’re rough. Always fighting, getting beat up, having their teeth knocked out. I can’t see you with one of them, Greta.”
“Don’t tempt me, Ma.” Greta had to smile at the thought of being with a guy like Brandon, big and strong. God, was he built. And his dark hair, curling on the back of his neck. Deep blue eyes.
But then again, she knew she’d never see Brandon, except maybe at a game. And when did she ever attend a sporting event?
The phone rang. Mother jumped ten feet. “Why the hell is your phone so loud?”
Greta thought it was the pizza delivery guy. “Yes?”
“Hey, Greta. April. You didn’t answer your phone, so I guessed you were at your mother’s.”
“Ma was just asking about you.”
“Do you want to go to a White Sox game? Next Friday night. A bunch of us from work got half price tickets. It’s hospital night. I thought you might want to go with. Even if you don’t like baseball, it’s a night out. We could people watch. And eat. And drink.”
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