“Love you, too, Katy. And I am so, so proud of you.”
My heart expands and I pull in a shaky breath. “Thanks, Dad.”
I go up to bed and join Hunter. I close the door of the spare room, hoping Dad won’t look in there and find it empty.
“This is much better,” I murmur, sliding under the covers next to Hunter’s body which produces heat like a blast furnace. I love this, since I’m always cold. My feet are aching, so I push them between Hunter’s calves.
He jerks away. “What the fuck…”
“Sorry. My feet are cold and you don’t like it when I wear socks to bed.”
He sighs. “Go ahead.”
I wiggle my feet between his legs. “I’m absorbing your bountiful heat. You have so much to spare.”
“Maybe socks aren’t so bad,” he mumbles.
I smile against his back, my arms around him. “Okay then.”
18
Kate
It’s time for the draft. It’s an exciting time for anyone involved in hockey. I’ve been following the scouting reports and the discussions (and rumors) about who each team might pick. Van and I have signed paperwork, talked on the phone, and met up a couple of times ahead of the draft to discuss the possibilities. Everyone expects him to go to Philadelphia, who have the first pick this year. He’s okay with that. We’ve also done some mock interviews to get him ready to meet with the folks from Philly as well as other teams.
“Make eye contact,” I coach him. “Shake hands firmly. Act confident.”
“Okay.”
“Sometimes they ask some wild questions in these interviews. So we prepare as much as we can, but who knows if they’ll ask you about a hungry bear in the hallway.”
“What?” His forehead creases.
I shrug and relate the question I heard about there being a hungry grizzly bear in the hallway and of the five people in the room, who should go out there?
Van gives me a deer-in-headlights look. Then he says, “I guess it’s a metaphor for teamwork. Like, there’s five of us on the ice and we’re facing someone…hungry.”
I nod approvingly. “Yes, yes. What do you do?”
“Um…communicate? Take the lead? Sacrifice myself? Get eaten by a grizz?”
I laugh. “Yeah, that’s good. Not the getting eaten by a bear part. The other.”
We talk about other potential questions. “Are you a virgin?”
“Whaaat!”
“Don’t answer that.” I hold up my hand. “I don’t need to know. But they could ask you, just to throw you off. Also be prepared for questions about drugs. Or who your worst teammate was.” We go over some strategies. “And if they comment about your game, engage with them and see what you can learn about what they think about you.”
I’ve also arranged meetings with a bunch of other prospects, giving them my sales pitch on what I can do for them. Usually their parents are with them, which is fine. These are kids, after all, and big decisions are being made. The fact that I just signed Van, and I’m young and interested in them as people seems to kindle their interest.
I’m ecstatic when another prospect expected go in the first round signs with me. Jack Karey is a big, solid defenseman that teams like Santa Monica and Dallas will likely be interested in. I dance into my apartment later that night, excited to call Hunter and tell him about my day.
“That’s great, Kate!”
“Thanks. I’m thrilled.” I smile up at my ceiling, stretched out on my couch. “And tomorrow I’m meeting with the Théo Wynn and Claude Faucher to talk more about your contract while they’re in town. Things are heating up now. There could be trades right up until the last minute, which could change things, but after the draft I expect we’ll get offers.”
“Fucking finally.”
“I know it’s been a long wait.”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve talked about all the moving parts.”
“Right.”
“I’ll be able to tell you more after tomorrow.”
“Okay, that’s great.”
“Are you going to pick me up at the Hargrave Center tomorrow? We can go for dinner. Friday night I’ll want to be at the arena to cheer on Van and Jack.”
We arrange a time and place to meet and end the call. I set my phone on my chest.
After our trip to Chicago, I feel even closer to Hunter. I love how he fit in with my family, and how he was there for me when I was nervous about signing Van and meeting with Jenelle. I loved how good he was with her kids and how they worshipped him. Despite my happiness, I feel a little ache in my chest. I miss him, after being together all the time for a few days. But I have work to do, and I’ll see him Thursday.
I’m not here to do any serious negotiations. That’ll happen later, and these teams are focused on the draft right now. But it’s important to show my face in person. I have several contracts to negotiate, and I want them to remember me.
My first discussion is with Théo Wynn. It’s short and sweet. Then I talk to the GM from Toronto, Claude Faucher.
Let’s just say he’s not my favorite person to deal with. But that doesn’t matter. This is about Hunter.
I don’t trust Claude. I have this weird feeling he’s stringing me along. I have the feeling that he can’t close a deal without team ownership approval and that makes me uneasy. I also feel he doesn’t respect me. It’s nothing specific he says, more how he says it, and the condescending smile he gives me when he mansplains entry level contracts to me. Ugh.
But I am my most professional, charming self.
I say hi to Dean Marlow, GM in Philly, who has the first pick. They’ve already heard Van signed with me and I get a friendly greeting. I’m sure they’re going to select him.
I also talk to a few sports reporters who are eager to ask questions about Van, as well as some with questions about Hunter. I know these guys (and women). I tell them my standard lines that Van will be thrilled to play for whatever team drafts him. I’m not going to tell them anything on the record about Hunter, but I do mention that Hunter’s disappointed about not yet getting a qualifying offer from the Storm. Fans aren’t going to feel sorry for a guy going after a multi-million-dollar contract, but they will feel sorry for a guy who’s basically being given the boot, especially a fan favorite like Hunter. It never hurts to have the fans on your side, and I’ve gotten better at working the media.
When it’s time to meet Hunter, I head to where we agreed to meet. The buzz has died down here in the arena. Tomorrow will be the big day, and Saturday for the other draft rounds. I spot Hunter talking to a man I recognize as the coach of the Storm. They’re laughing about something, Hunter’s smile like a light beaming toward me and guiding me to him. I can’t help but smile too as I walk toward them.
I’m stopped in my tracks by someone else. I stare into the face of Tarek Bennani, who I worked for at Pinnacle.
“Kate.” He gives me an icky smile. “What are you doing here?”
What am I doing here? What the fuck kind of stupid question is that?