Maverick (Sin City Saints Hockey 1)

“Fuck this practice, man,” Dane says as he laces up his skates.

We got in from a road trip yesterday evening, and I assumed Coach would give us today off. But here we are, putting in both a practice and a weight-lifting session.

Dane’s face is drawn and he has purple circles under his eyes. He looks exhausted, and I don’t think it’s from our road trip.

“Hey, you good?” I ask him.

“Yep.”

He meets my eyes and nods. Dane is secretive. I don’t think anyone but Alexei knows anything about his personal life, and Alexei has never said anything beyond telling me a few months ago that Dane has some personal issues going on. I don’t pry, but I try to let Dane know I’m here if he ever needs a friend.

“I need some pussy,” Pike says as we make our way to the ice. “Anybody want to go out tonight?”

“I might,” says one of our defenders, Kingston Bryant. “If I can get a nap first.”

“Yeah, get your rest, princess,” Pike says. “Anyone else?”

No one speaks up, and Pike scoffs.

“Boys, we’re in the city of sin. Quit acting like a bunch of grandmas.”

Everyone ignores him. Playing hockey at this level is physically demanding. We all work our asses off to stay strong and focused, and a lot of us are past the partying phase in life. I like going out occasionally, but not all the time like Pike does.

After skating a few laps, we start doing drills. Coach hasn’t let up since we started winning more games; if anything, he’s working us even harder. We’re now on the receiving end of national news media attention and PR has me doing more interviews than I’ve ever had to do. I don’t really mind it, though, because things have finally come together for our team.

“Pike Morgan!” an intern who works in the front office calls out. “I need to see Pike Morgan, Coach.”

The intern’s name is Shawn, I think. He’s a college senior hoping to graduate with a degree in sports management. We all met him on his first day, and he seems like a nice guy. He’s standing on the concrete area at the end of the rink with a woman who doesn’t look much older than he is.

“During practice?” Coach calls out to Shawn, throwing his arms in the air.

“Sorry, Coach,” Shawn says.

“Morgan, get your ass over there!” Coach yells. “The rest of you, you can either put more effort into this drill or we can keep doing it all goddamn day. The choice is yours.”

Coach is extra surly today. The rest of the time, he’s a pretty good guy. Especially now that we’re not the worst team in the league and he’s no longer worried about getting fired right after relocating his family to Vegas.

Pax is behind me in line for the drill, and he leans in and says, “Looks like maybe Alexei’s not the only one with a kid on the way. Bet you a hundred bucks he’s about to find out that chick’s his baby mama.”

I scowl at him. “Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m serious. You can’t screw as many women as he does and never get anyone pregnant.”

I shake my head and say, “Don’t start any shit,” and then turn back to pay attention to the drill. It was the right reaction for the captain of the team to have, but the part of me that is just Pike’s friend is a little bit worried that Pax might be right. I can’t make out the woman’s words, but her tone isn’t happy and her arms are crossed. Pike’s back is facing me, so I can’t see his facial expression.

“Might be a double baby shower,” Alexei jokes as he skates past me.

What the hell? The woman looks like she’s about to burst into tears, and I’m afraid Pax and Alexei might be right. What a fucking way to tell a guy news like that—in the middle of practice.

Shawn is trying to mediate, his palms in the air, but the woman won’t have it. She’s pointing at Pike now, clearly arguing with him.

“Should we do something?” Pax asks me. “Try to save him?”

“No, he can take care of himself.”

The conversation between Pike and the woman has grown so heated that all of us are paying attention and trying to eavesdrop while pretending not to. Even our coach looks curious at this point.

The woman turns to leave, then whips back around to face Pike, screaming.

“You are a pus-filled sore on the asshole of humanity, do you know that? Eat shit, Pike Morgan!”

There’s a second of stunned silence, and then titters break out among the guys on the ice.

“I love her,” Pax says softly from beside me.

Pike returns to practice, his expression weary.

“You good to finish, Morgan?” Coach asks him.

“Yeah, Coach.”

“Get in the goal then. Let’s get this show on the road!”