Page 9 of He Has Game (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 3
Finn
Slipping past the locker room, I follow, dripping sweat and needing a shower. I’m smelly as shit coming from the weight room wearing shorts and a half shirt soaked through with sweat, but I notice Mary doesn’t flinch when I waltz into coach’s office and shut the door. Then she lays it on me.
“Here’s the background material for your relationship with your fake fiancée. Memorize every word. Tomorrow after the game you can either meet with her in private—chaperoned by me—or if you’re comfortable with it, you can take her out with you.”
While Coach listens with his usual unperturbed expression. Until Mary used the wordsfakeandfiancéein the same sentence. Then his eyes flicker and his mouth twitches.
“It’s not a fucking joke,” I say, living on the edge. Saying anything except yes, ma’am is iffy.
“No one’s laughing,” Mary says and glares at Coach to make sure.
“This is serious, and it’s top secret.”
“Don’t get all melodramatic,” I say. “No one got killed.” I snatch up the papers. “I’ll meet with her in private.”
“Good choice,” she says. “And you’re right. The only thing at risk here is your fucking career.”
Ouch. That brings the need for the fiasco home. Even though I did nothing to Mrs. Boylston—except insult her, evidently causing a major blow to her fragile ego—this is my fault because I’ve been less than discreet with women. Vowing to do better after this is all over, I keep my mouth closed.
“Don’t worry,” Coach says, “Finn will behave regardless of the false window dressing of a fiancée. You can have her as your watchdog since you seem to think Boylston needs the reassurance, but I predict with no uncertainty that Finn will be on his best behavior.” Coach stands, joining Mary and me since I never bothered sitting.
“So no going out after games,” I say, trying to wrap my mind around that.
“Not unless Vivian is with you,” Mary says. “And not unless you’re prepared to treat her like she’s made of gold.”
I nod, aware that Coach is watching me closely, whatever amusement he had is now gone.Treat her like gold?Conjuring up my image of Vivian, I realize this will be an effort, may even require some acting skills in spite of the fact that I’m enamored of women in general, all shapes and sizes. She’s the one type I avoid. The innocent mouse. Fuck. It’s not like I need to feel it, I only need to act like she’s my type. Fuck again.
“I think you’re right, Coach.” Mary sounds too smug. “He’ll do fine in his role. My only concern is that he keep the pretense a pretense. No touching. No intimacy. Of any kind. When you’re not in public, Vivian is like a nun to you. Got it?”
“Sure. No problem at all.” I’m pretty sure that’s true.
Without asking to be dismissed, because I don’t want to be lectured to like I’m in junior high for another second, I open the door and walk out.
Walking past the short opening to the rink, I see a group of kids. Stick boys and girls working after school. They’re good kids. I’ve gotten to know them. Waving them over, they’re eager to join me and we shoot the crap.
“Hey Finn,” one of the older kids, Nicky, says, looking embarrassed, “Can you sign this stick for my cousin? I wouldn’t ask, but he’s in the hospital.”
“Sure, no prob.” I take the stick from him and another kid fishes a Sharpie from his pocket and gives it to me, telling me his cousin’s name. I sign the stick and ask, “What’s wrong with him?” He hesitates before speaking, and I see the distress on his face.
“Cancer,” he mutters.Fuck.
“Shit. Sorry, man. He in the hospital?” The kid nods. All the boys and girls look somber, the carefree joking around gone. Handing the stick back, I’m still dripping with sweat, dying for a shower and a good meal but I don’t hurry away because I was one of those kids not too long ago, who hero worshipped pro hockey players. The one time I’d gone to a game—as a guest with one of my friend’s families—my friend and I waited around outside the locker room afterward. I still have the autograph I got that day.
“Tell you what,” I say. “Let the PR office know your cousin’s name and the hospital he’s at so they can set up a time for a visit. I’ll be there and I’ll see if I can drag a few of the guys with me.” Mary will get me all kinds of team gear to bring.
The kid’s faces lights up and I pat his shoulder, saying goodbye to them all. It gives me a small thrill to leave Nicky with a smile, dispels the disturbance caused by my fake engagement. Puts things into perspective.
* * *
When I boughtmy condo in the North End three years ago it was an extravagance. The spacious penthouse unit sports a view of the harbor and the Zakim Bridge, which is spectacular when it’s lit up at night. Now the place feels like home, especially since I took in Aiden as my roommate. He was only supposed to stay a few months until he got a place of his own when he joined the team, but hell, plans change.
We’re chowing down on takeout pappardelle Bolognese, a classic with meat and pork and tomato ragu from Pellino’s on Prince Street, because I can get it delivered—the best thing about living in the North End. The second-best thing is that it’s walking distance to the Garden. Not that I’ve ever walked. But in case of a blizzard, I can get there.
Aiden foregoes the napkin and swipes his arm across his mouth. He doesn’t even have a fucking sleeve on said arm. I shake my head.
“You taking a date to the St. Jude’s Gala Saturday night?” He looks worried.
