“Only when they become a liability to the team.”
“Felix has his ways.”
“And Rhett Marlow?” she asked. “Sources say he’s been drinking himself blackout drunk every night since the draft.”
“What sources.”
“Would you believe me if I said they came from inside the building?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t know how else to warn you, Adrian.” Her voice turned cold. “Maybe you could point me in the direction of another captain who might be willing to protect his teammates?”
“Wait…” I prevented Adrian from saying something he’d regret. “Are you telling us that the team’s management is the one leaking player drama to the press? Why would they do that?”
Magnolia clutched her iPad to her chest. “That’s my question, and I think Adrian already knows the answer. He knew it the instant he was handed this roster.”
“Means nothing,” Adrian said. “There aren’t many players in this league without skeletons in their closet or past mistakes shadowing their game.”
I nibbled my lip. “What’s the team said about Adrian?”
Magnolia smirked. “Oh, the great Adrian Alaric? I’ve only heard praise for his exemplary behavior. He’s the gentleman of the league, with not even a whisper of scandal following him.”
“Good.”
“There is, however…” She hummed. “The injury.”
He tensed. “I’m not injured anymore.”
“So it would appear…if the networks weren’t informed that the coaching staff was watching your every workout. We’re told they’re assessing how much damage the injury caused. They’re not expecting you back at one hundred percent.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Are you as fast as you once were? Can you take a hit? Win a game?” Magnolia softened her voice. “I’m sorry, Adrian, but these are the stories that will be airing on Sports Nation in the coming weeks. And I can guarantee, my bosses will be eagerly awaiting the team’s next humiliating mistake—be it an out-of-control rookie partying with the wrong people or a down-on-his-luck defensemen who spends the night in a jailcell.”
“Why would they try to destroy an expansion team before they even play a game?”
“Because sometimes losing is more exciting than the win.” Magnolia’s cell rang, and she sighed as she read the screen. “That’s the office. Gotta take this. Adrian, I can’t stop these stories, but I can give you a heads-up before they’re run. It’s not much, but hopefully you can get control of this team and limit the amount of drama. Someone’s gotta help these guys—and I don’t think it’ll be the Forge’s management.”
Magnolia answered her call and jogged to the ice, waving at the Sports Nation crew as they readied for another round of photo shoots.
Adrian’s expression creased with worry. Dark. Skeptical.
Pained.
I hated it.
I reached for him, though his arms were protected by thick and bulky pads. He didn’t react to my touch.
“It’s nothing,” I insisted.
“Yeah.”
“The media always wants a juicy story. I’m sure Magnolia is overreacting.”
“Maybe.”
Wasn’t like him to answer in one-word grunts. My stomach turned.
“Was she right about the roster?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He spat a profanity and apologized for being crass. His heavy breath even weighed me down. “The guys on this team have issues. They’re in bad standing with the law or the league. Most have piss-poor sportsmanship, cause fights in the locker room, or have no sense of teamwork or comradery. The rest? Substance abuse records or problems at home.”
My stomach churned. “What does that mean?”
Adrian quieted. His grip on the stick tightened, and he studied the frost blue brilliance of his jersey with a grimace.
“It means coming to the Forge might’ve been a mistake.”
11
Adrian
Clover’s pregnancy test came back negative.
And my day only got worse from there.
Ten players straight-up refused to participate in the unofficial workouts. They wouldn’t arrive until training camp began or they were mandated to appear through arbitration between their agents and the team.
Two of my teammates arrived to practice drunk. Rhett Marlow drank to conceal his problems. Orion Orlav drank to cause them. Neither were permitted to stay, though the coaches took their time admonishing them while in the middle of the ice and in full view of the cameras in attendance.
Leo Telane and Felix Ferraro began their argument in the locker room, and it followed them to the ice. So far, no one had thrown any fists, but the insults levied were harsh, biting, and instantly tweeted by the reporters.
And Beau Beckett was the first on the ice only to be the first off, packing his equipment after the showers and making a break for the exit before the team meeting.
“Where the hell are you going?” I blocked his path, trading my skates and sticks for a suit and tie—the new mandatory dress-code for the upcoming training camp. “Practice isn’t over.”
Beau took pride in aggravating those around him. Instead of earning our respect, he chased our animosity. Not sure why the Superstar possessed such a caustic attitude, but his arrogance would burn through the team.
“I got better things to do than circle-jerk with the coaches,” Beau said.
“Think you know better than them?”
“Yeah, I do.”
The locker room was too crowded a space for this conversation. The last of the showers had turned off, and a handful of teammates slowed their dressing just to see where this was going. I ignored the exchange of money between Oz and Cash. Betting against me was betting against the team.
Even if it seemed the more reckless wager.
“You’ve got no idea what it’s like playing in the professional league, kid,” I said. “You should spend some time watching film with the coaches. You might learn something.”
“Spare me. You’re the only one doubting my talent, and a pretty boy like you doesn’t look as good when he’s green with envy.” Beau didn’t break his stare. Like we needed an invitation to toss down the gloves. “Was my stickwork bad? Did I skate sloppy? Did I miss any shots?”
“You play like you’re the only one on the ice.”
“Yeah—because to the opposing goalies and the television crews—I’m the only one worth a damn out there.”
I’d heard it from wanna-be superstars before, and it always ended in disaster.
“You’re not gonna get anywhere without the team,” I said.
He flashed the keys to his brand-new Porsche. “Looks like I can go anywhere I want, zero to sixty in three seconds.”
“Hope it’s got a good ride to the unemployment office.”
“Look, I’m got my payday. I’ve got my skates. I’ve got my stick. You let me worry about the rest, Captain.”
I pointed around the locker room, the unfamiliar electric blue accenting the benches, the rugs, and the line of brick in the white wall. “See all this? This is mine. My team. My reputation. My life. And I won’t tolerate anyone or anything jeopardizing it.”