Forever Pucked(10)

Now, I get that Violet has had some embarrassing things happen to her  over the years. Something about a serious wardrobe malfunction at her  mother's wedding is all I know. But I understand her concerns.

Violet says it like it is most of the time, and whatever pops into her  head usually comes right out of her mouth. It's cute and funny when it's  just us, or our friends, but in highly public situations, it can be  mortifying for her-and sometimes other people. I've told her several  times that we can keep our wedding small, but she's still reluctant to  set a date.

"Not making progress there, huh?" Darren asks.

"Nope." I tap the steering wheel in agitation.

"I'm sorry, man. I know you want this to happen." His phone buzzes in his pocket. "You mind if I take this?"

I wave him off. "No. Go ahead."

"Hey, sexy. What's up?"

It's Charlene. Darren's been seeing her for a long while, now. He's  always been a low-profile guy, but since they started dating, he's  gotten a lot more media attention. He doesn't really like it, but he  seems to like Charlene, so he deals.

"You didn't get enough of me last night or this morning, is that it?" he asks quietly.

I try not to eavesdrop, but he's sitting right beside me and we're in my car, so it's impossible.

"Oh, really?" Darren makes a clicking sound with his tongue. "That  sounds like a lot of fun, but I'm on my way to the gym with Alex, so  you'll have to put that thought on hold …  Uh-huh … Yeah, you can come to my  place. That'll work better anyway. Mmm … I think the red one." He shifts  around in his seat. "That's entirely up to you."

When I glance at him, he raises his eyebrows. There's a long pause, during which his smile grows even wider.

"You know what I like, Charlene. Okay. I'll see you around six …  Looking  forward to it." He ends the call and tucks his phone back in his pocket.

"Things getting serious there?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I like her, and we have a good time together."

It's not an answer, but then that's kind of how Darren is.

"So what happened this morning?" he asks.

"Everything was fine until I joked around about Vi quitting her job."

"Why would you do that?" He sounds incredulous.

"I don't know. I just … the away games aren't my favorite. I don't like  the long spans of time away from her, and she doesn't have to work. I  make more than enough, right?" I'm looking for some kind of affirmation.  Darren is probably the wrong person to ask, though, considering his  relationship with Charlene isn't anything like my relationship with  Violet.

"Does this have anything to do with the Darcy account?" Darren asks.

"What?"

"The Darcy account. Are you worried about that?"

"What are you talking about?"

Darren gives me a look. "Mitch Darcy. You know, our teammate?"

"Did he say something to you? He's got his own damn wife. He needs to stay the fuck away from mine."

"Settle down, Waters. Didn't Violet tell you last night?"

Anxiety makes every muscle in my body tighten. "Tell me what?"

"Jesus, you're edgy today."

"Yeah, well, my fiancée, who won't set a damn wedding date, denied me  sex this morning after I'd been away for a week, and now you have  information I don't, so there's something she's keeping from me."                       
       
           



       

"I don't think she's keeping it from you. Apparently Violet drew up a  proposal for his account, and she's presenting it next week."

"Oh. That's it?" When Darcy's wife, Bunny, found out Violet manages  finances for sports professionals, she got her contact information. I  vaguely remember Violet telling me about creating a proposal a few weeks  ago. She's had to stay late a bunch of times over the past few months.

"What do you mean, that's it? It's a big fucking deal."

"It is? How do you know?"

"Charlene told me. Junior accountants don't present on multimillion-dollar accounts."

"She already manages Miller's accounts."

"Yeah, but this is different. Darcy isn't family, and Bunny specifically requested her. Charlene said this is atypical."

"Oh. I didn't realize that. Well, I guess that explains her reaction this morning. I wish she would've said something."

"I'm surprised she didn't."

"We were kind of busy last night, with other things."

"Apparently."

I like Darcy well enough. He's a good guy, and Bunny's always pleasant.  She seems like the one in charge in that relationship. I tap the  steering wheel, considering my options and how things could have gone  differently had I known this information.

"I should do something nice for her tonight. Plan a dinner or something."

"Good idea. Then maybe you'll get some action and you won't be so bitchy  on the ice tomorrow night. We could really use a home win."

"Yeah, don't I know it."

While we managed to win the first two away games-just barely-on this  last trip, we lost the second two. It's been like that this season: a  lot of up and down, and not a lot of consistency.

My scoring average is also down, and Randy Ballistic, who's new to the  team, has been responsible for more goals than I have lately. It's good  for him, but not so good for me.

I'm silent for the rest of the trip to the gym. Darren doesn't push for  conversation, which is good because I'm mulling. As much as I'm  disappointed that I didn't hear this news from Violet, I'm also a little  relieved it's Darren who told me. It gives me time to process.

As exciting as this is for Violet, it also means she's going to be busy  planning for the presentation this week. Which means we'll have even  less time together. I'm happy for her, because she works hard at her  job, and she's amazing at it, but this isn't just about this week. The  better she gets, the higher she'll climb, and the more time it will take  away from us.

As a kid, my mom was always there: taking me to skating or hockey,  making breakfast, working on homework with Sunny. I've always kind of  imagined it'd be the same for my kids. I want that for my family, and I  have the ability to provide it. Maybe Violet isn't ready to look at it  that way.

As soon as we get to the gym, I jam in my earbuds so I don't have to  talk to anyone and hit the treadmill. Darren leaves me alone. He knows  better than anyone that sometimes I need time to think.

Lance Romero, one of my teammates and a good friend of Miller's, steps  onto the treadmill beside me and nods. I've gotten to know him a bit  better in the last few months. He's a notorious partier, and a while  back he had a fling with the team trainer, Tash, which resulted in us  getting a new trainer. It sucked for everyone, but since then he seems  to have calmed down a bit.

I pull out an earbud. "How's it going, Romero?"

"Yeah, all right."

He looks tired, like maybe he was up late last night, probably with a bunny.

"You gonna be on for tomorrow's game?" I ask.

"Damn right. We're not letting Toronto near the net." A hint of Scot  creeps in, telling me he's as fired up as I am about the losses we've  been taking lately.

We spend the better part of three hours working out, though it's not all  heavy training. An hour of it is stretching for me, working out the  kinks in my right shoulder. I need to schedule a massage for later in  the week so I can stay on top of things. Not only is this my shooting  arm, it's my fingering-Violet hand as well. I can't have anything  interfering with my career, or my ability to get her off.

I decide to order takeout from her favorite restaurant, as well as a  bottle of champagne, her favorite flowers, and some chocolates. That  should cover all the bases and win back some of my lost points from this  morning. I also recognize that this opportunity is a big deal for her,  and I do want to celebrate her accomplishments. I get that right now  this is what she wants, so I'll support her. Her work ethic is  honorable, if not always easy for me to handle.                       
       
           



       

After training I spend a few hours at Darren's watching Toronto games  and planning our strategy for tomorrow. I get home around four-thirty,  which gives me plenty of time to get things set up for the romantic  dinner. First I remove the cardboard effigies of myself from the front  hall. The giant stuffed beaver finds a new home in the sitting room,  which is where I discover a picnic-like set up in front of the  fireplace.

My workout mats, covered with fluffy blankets and pillows, are laid out  close to the fireplace-it's gas so there's no worry about burning down  the house. Pink paper litters the surrounding area. I crouch and pick  one up; it's dick-shaped, with balls and everything. Some have little  red capes glued to them in honor of Super MC.