Not a Player (Laketown Hockey Book 1)

by A. J. Wynter

  “I’ll take ‘em scrambled then.” I went back to collecting empty cups and beer bottles.

  “That smells good.”

  We both turned to see a disheveled woman emerge from one of the bedrooms.

  “I hope you like scrambled,” Tanner held up the spatula.

  “Mmmm.” The girl stretched her arms above her head. “Have you seen Mike?” she asked.

  I glanced at Tanner. He hadn’t seen Mike pull his escape earlier this morning, but he wasn’t stupid.

  Tanner stirred the eggs in the pan with the spatula. “He said that he had something important to do for the coach this morning.” Tanner gave her his million-megawatt smile, covering for his teammate.

  She blushed and smiled back. “Oh, okay.”

  The toasted popped and Tanner slathered the pieces with butter. “Here.” He handed the still-unnamed girl a plate topped with his surprisingly good-looking breakfast.

  She picked up the piece of toast like it was laced with arsenic and dropped it onto the next plate. “Carbs,” she said.

  Tanner handed her a fork and rolled his eyes at me. “Fitzy, you’re up.”

  I set down the bag and washed my hands in the kitchen sink, the stale beer smell had almost ruined my appetite. The banging sound from the wrought iron door knocker interrupted our conversation.

  “You expecting someone?” Tanner paused with a plate in his hand.

  “Maybe Margie’s here early.” I shook the water off my hands and jogged through the great room to the rear entryway and pulled the door wide open.

  “Hi.”

  It was Jessie. Her eyes looked tired, but her cheeks glowed pink as she handed me the keys to the car.

  “Hi,” I hung the keys on the hooks by the door. “We’re just making breakfast; do you want some?”

  “Sure. Smells great.” Dylan stepped out from behind the stone pillar and stood beside his sister. I don’t know how I missed it, the resemblance between them was uncanny, with their high cheekbones and tall lanky frames, they were practically twins.

  “Oh, hey.” I couldn’t believe that he would show up after the scene he caused. He also had dark circles under his eyes, but his were bruises.

  Jessie put her hand on her brother’s chest, stopping him. “Where’s our car?”

  I leaned against the doorframe. “It’s in the garage. I left it on a charge. You should probably take it to Gary to make sure there isn’t something else wrong with it.”

  “We have a family friend who fixes our car,” Jessie explained.

  I saw her gaze travel up and down my entire shirtless body and it wasn’t my imagination, she flushed from her jawline down the center of her chest. I only glanced at her tits but had to turn away quickly when my cock stirred in my boardshorts. “Let me grab a shirt, come on in.”

  “We’ll wait out here,” Jessie said.

  “Suit yourself,” I said. Her cheeks were still red, and she appeared to be studying the trees between the main cottage and the bunkie.

  AS I LED THE TWO OF them to the garage, I asked as casually as I could, “Did you get a call from Coach today?” I still hadn’t gotten the guts up to call Covington.

  “I did, but I missed it,” Dylan said. “I was a little busy. Did he call you too?”

  “Yeah.” I opened up the garage.

  Dylan whistled as the fluorescent lights lit up the car collection. “I think he’s going to give me shit about last night.”

  “You think?”

  Dylan laughed under his breath. “I’m probably going to get kicked off the team.”

  I wanted to tell Dylan about the two strikes comment that Coach had made after the game, but figured it wasn’t my place.

  “Do you care?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Not really,” Dylan shrugged. “I wonder why he called you though.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call him back later,” I kept my voice even, trying to sound nonchalant.

  I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know why Coach Covington had called, but I had to call him back. Dylan wasn’t a bad guy; he was just going through a tough time. If Coach asked, I was going to tell him to go easy on the poor guy. I kept glancing at Jessie. She looked exhausted, and she had an air of sadness to her. I felt for the two of them, but it looked like Jessie had her hands full with her brother. If helping him, meant helping her, something deep in my heart told me that I needed to do it.

  Chapter 11 – Jessie

  Not going to make it today.

  I stared at the text from Paige - sent twenty minutes after her shift was supposed to start. The line at the Chip truck snaked around the side of the truck down to the shoreline and I cursed Paige every time I dropped a basket of fries into the grease.

  The good part about being run off your feet is that the day goes by fast – the bad part is – well, angry customers. I had packed my lunch but hadn’t had a chance to eat any of it. As I locked up the truck for the day, I pried open the lid of my Tupperware and crunched on a piece of celery, thankful for the hydration.

  I ran up to the marina, waved at Ralph, and beelined it for the bathroom.

  “Hey Jessie,” Ralph shouted and waved me over. He had removed a propeller and was examining its curved edges.

  “Whoa, did someone run over Secret Island again?” Secret Island was actually a pile of rocks that, for most of the season sat just below the waterline and claimed its fair share of propellers over the summer.

  “I think that this one was a log.” He turned the heavy piece of metal in his hand. “Dylan told me about your car.”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t know what else there was to say.

  “I’ll be able to fix it for you, but you two will just have to find the money for the parts.”

  Relief washed over me. “Thanks, Ralph.”

  He turned to unscrew a bolt. “Anything for you guys.” He was back to work but kept talking, “I know things are tight right now, kid. Don’t worry, I’m sure that insurance money isn’t too far from coming through.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling us.” I waved and left.

  Boat engines whined in the distance as I walked away from the marina. Even though I’d had a rough day, I found a renewed spring in my step. Ralph was going to fix our car for free, and as soon as the insurance money came through, I’d be able to go back to the Skating Academy.

  Dylan and I were not going to get rich from my mom’s life insurance policy, but it would give us some breathing room – and pay the Academy’s tuition. I didn’t know what Dylan planned to do with his half, but he was right, I wasn’t the mom – I would have to trust that he wasn’t going to blow it all.

  I KICKED OFF MY BIRKENSTOCKS and tossed my grease-stained baseball cap on the folding chair on the porch. I made a beeline for the basement. If I didn’t strip and throw my clothes directly into the washing machine, the whole house would reek of deep-fried fish for days. Crosby wound around my feet and then scurried out the door behind me.

  Dylan was sitting at the kitchen table in silence.

  Something was wrong.

  “Everything okay?”

  Dylan had a piece of paper in his hand and when he realized I was there he hid it behind his back.

  “What’s that?” I lunged to grab it from him.

  He stopped and held the paper high above my head. At six foot five, there was no way I’d be able to jump and grab it.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.” I put my hands on my hips.

  Dylan exhaled heavily, then relented and handed the paper to me. He took a seat at the table, turning the empty envelope in his hands while I read the letter.

  “No. They can’t do this.”

  Dylan leaned back against the chair. His eyes were ringed in dark circles, the lids were red like he had been crying. “I talked to Frank. They can and they are.”

  I glanced at the piece of paper, hoping that I had misread it. The Insurance Company’s logo,
a yellow sun peeking out from behind a line drawing of clouds mocked me. “Are you sure?” I whispered.

  “It’s bullshit.” Dylan rested his forehead in his hands.

  I sat and flattened the letter out on the table. Apparently, mom’s policy was null and void.

  “We have to talk to someone about this.” My voice quivered.

  “Who?” Dylan looked at me. “Frank is the best lawyer in town, and we can’t afford a second opinion.”

  “There has to be something we can do.”

  “I don’t think there is, Jess.” He stood, his thighs ramming against the wooden table hard enough that the salt and pepper shakers wobbled. He started pacing.

  “We will figure this out.” I heard myself say the words, but I didn’t believe them.

  “I appreciate your optimism, Jess. But we just got royally fucked.”

  The room started to tilt, and I gripped the edge of the table and took a breath. My vision narrowed and the dated wooden cabinets of the kitchen came in and out of focus. I remembered thinking that I was lucky I was sitting down, and then everything went black.

  The darkness fizzled away, and I squeezed my eyes together tightly as the kitchen came back into focus. It took me a minute to figure out where I was, the perspective from the floor was confusing.

  “Oh, thank god. I was just about to call nine one one.” I felt Dylan’s deep voice through my back and realized that my brother was behind me, holding me upright.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “You fell out of the chair and almost clocked your forehead on the table.”

  I pushed against the floor in an effort to stand.

  “Why don’t you just give yourself a minute.” Dylan held me down.

  “I’m fine,” I swatted at him and stood. My legs shook but did their job. He bounced up behind me and grabbed a banana from the hanging holder beside the fridge.

  “When was the last time that you ate?” he asked.

  I honestly couldn’t remember. “Lunch at the truck,” I lied.

  He peeled the banana, handed it to me, and then poured me a glass of water, adding in one of his electrolyte tablets. I took a sip and a bite, and the room became a little clearer. Dylan pulled out a chair. “Sit. Let’s figure this out.”

  I CAN’T REMEMBER WANTING to be anything but a figure skater. And it had been so close, one more podium finish and I would’ve made it to Nationals. Now, I looked at the piece of paper that Dylan and I had been scribbling on for the past three hours and there was no way I could afford to go back to the Academy. I held my phone in my hand. The number had been on the screen for almost an hour, but I couldn’t bring myself to push send.

  Now Dylan was on the sofa, the light from the tv flickering on his face while he slept.

  I jabbed the ‘send’ button on my phone and swallowed the lump down in my throat as far it would go.

  “Jessica”

  “Hi, Veronica.” I tried to put on a chipper tone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I paused. “I’m not coming back.”

  This time it was her turn to pause. “What do you mean you’re not coming back. I thought we agreed that you were going to come back as soon as your parents’ estate was settled. We have so much work to do – especially on your short program.”

  Veronica was high strung, and her sentences sped along like she was in warp speed.

  I sighed. “The insurance money. We’re not getting it.”

  “What, what do you—”

  “Veronica, I don’t want to get into it right now.” I was glad I wasn’t in front of her so she couldn’t see my lip tremble. “I can’t come back. I can’t afford the Academy, or...”

  “Me.” This she said quietly. Veronica Hunter was one of the most sought-after coaches in the country. She had sent at least one skater to every World Championship or Olympics for the past fifteen years.

  “Right.” My voice wavered. I wanted to get off the phone before the waterworks started. Veronica was tough as nails and as harsh as she could be, had never made me cry.

  “My dear. You need to fight for that money. You are a warrior, a survivor. I know that you will come up with something.”

  I wanted to believe her, but short of winning the lottery, or selling my body, I was done. “Promise me you won’t give up.” She didn’t give me time to think of an excuse. “Jessica Moss. You will figure this out.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” I said without conviction. My voice cracked on the last word. “Bye,” I said without waiting for her response and hung up the phone. She said exactly what I expected her to say.

  “Was that Veronica?” Dylan asked from the living room.

  “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “Just resting my eyes.” He clasped his hands on his chest and kept his eyes shut. “What did she say?”

  “Nothing much. Just told me to figure it out.”

  Dylan sat and slunk into the back of the sofa. “She didn’t offer her protégé any help? No scholarships? Nothing?”

  “It doesn’t work like that.” Part of me had hoped that Veronica might come through with some kind of a plan, even though I knew it wasn’t likely.

  “Fuck.” Dylan shook his head. “I’ll find the money, Jess. You just keep sneaking into the arena at night. And maybe you can join the Laketown Figure Skating Club. I think we can swing that.”

  The Laketown Figure skating club was where I cut my teeth. It was run from the original arena in town, an old school rink where little kids took lessons – the coaches there had probably never even seen someone do a triple jump – let alone coach someone who was doing them.

  “Pfft.” I shook my head and headed up the stairs to bed.

  “Don’t scoff. Right now, it’s your only option.” Dylan shouted.

  “I’m going to bed.”

  I barrel-rolled onto my bed, cocooning myself like a burrito. I didn’t have tears; I didn’t have anger. I didn’t have anything.

  It was pitch black when Dylan knocked on the door.

  “What?” I grumbled.

  “It’s your phone. It’s Veronica.”

  I struggled to pull my arms out of my swaddle and sat up. Dylan cracked the door open. “Here.” He handed me the phone. My hands shook as I took it from him.

  “Veronica?”

  “My dear. Have you figured it out yet?”

  Did she think I was a fricking miracle worker? “Still working on it,” I mumbled. I raised my shoulders and eyebrows at my brother, who was standing in the doorway straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

  “You can stop working on it. I will tell you what you’re going to do.”

  The air sucked out of my lungs and I bolted upright. “What is it? I’ll do anything.”

  Chapter 12 – Kane

  Margie’s car was in the driveway, along with a red jeep. “Shit,” I muttered to myself as I parked the car in the garage.

  “Hello,” I shouted as the screen door slammed behind me. I could hear clanking in the kitchen and the sound of the dishwasher running.

  Margie stepped out of the kitchen and shook her head at me with a smirk on her face. A tea towel was balled up in her fist. “Quite the party the other night, Mr. Fitzgerald?”

  “You aren’t going to tell my parents, are you?” I couldn’t believe that I was twenty-one and still worried about this stuff.

  “Your secret is safe with me. You’re giving me an extra day of work.” She winked at me. “Or two.” She bent down to pick up a bottle cap off the floor. “Your coach is down at the dock.”

  I looked around the great room, “Did he come in?” What I was really asking was, did he see the mess?

  “I poured him a coffee and sent him to the boathouse to wait for you. I told him that he was going to have to stay out of my way, or else.” She slapped the tea towel on her hand and laughed.

  “Thanks again, Margie,” I
said. I walked through the cottage and leaned over the railing of the main house. The royal blue of Coach Covington’s Otters hat was visible over the back of one of the Adirondack chairs.

  The lake had calmed down significantly, and the sun sparkled on the ripples as the water lapped at the shore. The dock jostled as I stepped on it and Coach turned. “Hi, Coach.” I waved and threw an extra hustle into my step.

  “Have a seat, son.” Coach gestured to the empty white chair beside him.

  I obeyed and perched on the edge of the wooden seat. “I was about to call you.” It had taken me almost a full day to get up the nerve to call him back and he beat me to it with this surprise visit.

  Even though Coach’s eyes were shaded behind his aviator sunglasses, I could see his eyes crinkle as he smiled at me. “I have good news for you.”

  “You do?” I was always a glass half full kind of guy, but for some reason, I had been dreading calling him. I cursed myself for not calling earlier. I could’ve saved myself hours of agony. “There’s something I want to talk to you about too.”

  Coach sighed. “Ok.”

  “I think you should go easy on Dylan.”

  “Really?” Coach took off his sunglasses. “After the stunt he pulled?”

  “He’s going through a lot, Coach. I think that hockey is the only thing that’s stopping him from spiraling out of control.”

  Coach squinted and then slid his glasses back on. “I’m not going to kick him off the team – yet. But he has to have some consequences, and I’m going to suspend him from the rest of the exhibition games. After that, we’ll see.”

  “That seems fair.” It was more than fair and a hell of a lot better than kicking him off.

  Coach took a sip of his coffee. “Listen, Fitzgerald. You’re one of the strongest players out there.”

  “I feel like there’s a but coming,” I flattened my lips and crossed my arms.

  “Not exactly.” He held up a hand as if to stop me, “And let me finish, please.”

  I gulped and took a seat in the chair. “Yes, sir.”

  “I heard that someone let it slip that there was a scout at the last game.”