My intent is to watch video of our three goalie prospects, so I can start cataloging strengths and weaknesses. As I’m waiting for the laptop to start, my phone rings.
It’s Jenna.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Settling in nicely. Scared shitless, though.”
Jenna is one of only a handful of people I would admit that to, and only because she understands exactly how I feel because of her own demons. Sophie’s also on that short list, and I think Sophie might become someone I would share everything with, given the chance.
“I sent my résumé to Ms. Norcross,” Jenna says, her voice vibrating with excitement. “And we’re doing a Zoom interview tomorrow.”
“Wow.” That was fast. I’ll need to make sure to thank Brienne for giving Jenna the chance and moving so quickly. Obviously no clue if she’ll get a job, but I’m still grateful. I’d called Jenna last night and told her about my talk with Brienne, about any positions available that Jenna might be suited for.
“Emory’s not so sure I should do this,” Jenna says hesitantly. “What do you think?”
I wince internally because I don’t know Jenna the way her sister does. All I know is that I recognize myself within her. I’d tell her to take the chance, but I don’t want to push her in the wrong direction.
“I think you two need to discuss it carefully. Emory knows you best.”
“That’s not helpful,” she chastises.
“I know… but I can’t tell you what to do. All I can do is assure you that you have a friend here who will support you. So if you do get a job offer from Brienne, you have me here.”
“Now that is helpful,” she murmurs.
We chat a little longer, and she promises to call me after the interview to let me know what happens.
♦
Drake McGinn is a big son of a bitch, one of the tallest goalies in the league at six foot six. He’s escorted to my office by one of the administrative assistants, and my jaw drops slightly when I see him.
“Holy shit, dude.” My eyes roam over his frame. “You’ve gone all hippie, haven’t you?”
The man snorts, walks into my office, and we clasp hands. “I hardly think you could call me a hippie.”
“Biker chic, then?” I suggest. “The long hair, beard, and tattoos could mean the only things you’re riding these days is a Harley.”
Drake laughs. “I do own a Harley, but the hair and beard are mainly because who has time for haircuts and shaving with three boys to raise? And the tattoos are nothing more than a continuation of what I started years ago.”
It’s true. Drake had a shit ton of tattoos before, but now I can see them peeking out of the collar of his white T-shirt and at the wrists under his leather jacket. His dark-blond hair had always been a bit on the longer side, but it’s easily down to his shoulders now, and his beard is full-on playoff mode. At least it’s well groomed.
“Let’s go on a tour of the facility. Then we’ll head up to the executive suite,” I suggest, motioning for him to precede me out the door. Drake is here to talk. Nothing more. Like I told Sophie, we’re more on tryout than he is.
As we’re walking down the corridor, I ask, “How old are the boys now?”
Drake’s expression lights up, his blue eyes twinkling. “Jake is six, and Colby and Tanner just turned four.”
Three boys, including a set of twins. I can’t imagine raising three kids on my own, especially at that age.
“And Crystal?”
“Don’t even get me started.” We’re, of course, talking about his ex-wife. “Nothing’s changed for the better is the best I can say.”
“Sorry, man” I commiserate.
“It is what it is,” he replies, fatigue heavy in his tone. “But I’ll admit you piqued my interest. Never thought I’d consider coming back, and the only reason I’m here is because I trust you.”
“I appreciate it—”
“But I need to know that management believes in me, not just my abilities, but my integrity.”
“Don’t blame you a bit,” I reply, not at all surprised he’s setting out expectations that I’m not sure the Titans can meet. Matt Keller felt Drake being on this team was a smear by reputation alone.
I give Drake the ten-cent tour, but even that’s impressive. As one of the newer arenas in the league, the amenities are all first class. While Drake and I stayed in touch during my recovery, he hadn’t known about my decision to take this coaching position. We spend some time talking about that as well as the good old days when we played on the Wolves.
On our way up to the executive suite, we talk about the Titans. Specifically, he wants my honest opinion on whether the current management group has the ability to put this team back together.
My answer pulls no punches. “I don’t know, man. But I know the people here are dedicated to doing the right thing.”
“That starts at the top usually,” he replies.
“Brienne Norcross wants what’s best for this team. But she’s learning as she goes.”
I lead Drake to the conference room where I first met the other coaches, and I pray that Matt Keller keeps his opinions to himself. When I open the door, I’m surprised to see Brienne Norcross in attendance. She’d already signed off on the offer, as had Callum Derringer. This was just supposed to be a “getting to know you” meeting between Drake and the coaches.
Brienne and Matt are discussing something, but they swivel our way as we enter.
Everyone stands, but it’s Callum Derringer who moves forward to welcome Drake into the room. They shake, and Callum claps him on the shoulder. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Drake.”
“Of course,” Drake replies, and then lets Callum finish the introductions. Drake shakes each coach’s hand and then finally, Brienne’s.
She motions to the chair to her right. “Please, have a seat, Mr. McGinn.”
Drake sits as indicated, and I take the chair to his right.
“You’ve been out of league play for almost a year,” Callum says, clasping his hands on the table. “What kind of physical shape are you in?”
“Excellent,” Drake replies confidently. “Physically, I’m in the best shape of my life. I play in a rec league, so I haven’t lost my ice legs.”
This leads to questions about injuries, workout regimens, and time on ice. On paper, he seems perfect, but he’ll have to be tested in action. However, I know Drake wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think himself capable of stepping back into this level of play, so I’m not worried.
Brienne, who’s been quiet up until now, eases into the conversation. “I understand you have three young boys.”
“Correct,” Drake says but doesn’t elaborate.
“Do you have any concerns about being a solo parent as a professional hockey player?”
Drake leans his forearm on the table, giving me his back to face Brienne fully. “That’s a sexist question. I’m curious if you ask any potential employees who are single mothers if they’re concerned about their ability to work and solo parent as well?”