Goddamn it. That was the last thing you wanted to hear from your agent. Emmitt wished he’d grabbed a bottle of water from the hotel fridge before coming outside. It was so humid that a light sheen of moisture was beading on his skin. “What is it?”
“You’ve been traded.”
“What the fuck.” Emmitt swung his feet over the lounger and braced them on the tile of the balcony. The sharp tang of sea air and the roar of the waves faded into the background as he tried to wrap his brain around what he was hearing. “The Raiders fucking traded me? I won them a goddamn Calder Cup!”
Emmitt wasn’t exaggerating either. His team had played well, but he’d led the AHL the previous season in shutouts. His stellar season in net had been the primary factor in the Raiders winning the championship.
“Yes, and you proved yourself a valuable asset. Sometimes teams need to trade their valuable assets.”
Scott kept talking, but Emmitt was barely listening. Instead, he braced his elbows on his knees and stared down at the patterned tile. He’d been so sure that after the season he’d had—the shutouts, the Cup win—the Marauders would want him up on their roster full-time. He’d worked his ass off to impress them, and apparently he’d done it. He’d impressed them so much, they’d traded his ass somewhere else.
Here he thought the worst thing that could happen would be spending another season with the Raiders, the Marauders’ AHL team. It had never occurred to him the Marauders would think he was more valuable on the trade market than between the pipes.
“...good deal from Atlanta, it really is.”
Blinking, Emmitt snapped his head up. Which was a mistake, thanks to his hangover and the heat, but...what? “What? Atlanta?”
“The Venom,” Scott repeated. He sounded amused. “In the National Hockey League. That’s your new team.”
“Are you fucking with me?” Emmitt didn’t even know how to process this, because he’d been dreaming about this moment since he’d first given serious thought to playing hockey professionally. He was dizzy and the sun was too bright, and the headache throbbed and he didn’t even care. “If you’re fucking with me, dude—”
“I’m totally not,” Scott said, chuckling. “And, I’m allowed to tell you that you’ll most likely have a spot on the Venom’s roster.”
“What happened to Norell?” Emmitt asked, referring to the Venom’s starting goalie.
“Traded,” said Scott. “To the Admirals, for a couple of draft picks. It was an interesting deal.”
“So they’re going with Mori?” Emmitt stood up, staring off at the bright, turquoise gleam of the sea beyond the glittering pale blue of the infinity pool. The swim-up bar was deserted, a far cry from the raucous party it had been the night before. Everyone was probably sleeping it off like sensible vacationers.
Was it too early for a celebratory cocktail? No, his enthusiasm assured him.
Yes, his dehydrated and tequila-soaked veins protested.
“It seems like it,” Scott agreed. “But you’re both young enough, you know, if you put up a good showing in camp...”
Emmitt knew Scott was trying to imply—without promising—he might have a shot at the starting spot on the Venom if he brought his A-game to practice. Which, of course he would. Emmitt didn’t have any other game. He grinned. “I did it. I made it to the fucking NHL, man!”
His head throbbed, protesting his sudden shout. But Emmitt didn’t care. He was going to be playing the entire season against the best the league had to offer, under the lights and in stadiums full of excited and loud fans. The Venom were a good, solid team and Atlanta was a cool town. Emmitt couldn’t wait to call his mom.
Of course, that also meant he had to get dressed, go downstairs, and tell his teammates he’d been traded. A little bittersweet, given he was here to celebrate the team’s Calder Cup victory...but this was a part of hockey, and they all knew it. Besides, they’d be happy for him. They were good guys, and they, too, were hoping for the day they got that phone call.
* * *
“I still can’t believe it, Army. I mean, it’s awesome, but I’m gonna miss you next season.”
It was three thirty, and Emmitt and his teammate Seth were back by the pool, drinks in hand. Seth, who played forward, was one of Emmitt’s closest friends on the Raiders.
“Yeah, that part is hard. You know I love playing with you guys.” Emmitt leaned back in his chair, sunglasses shielding him from the bright midday sun. He turned his head and regarded Seth. Seth was a redhead, and after three days his skin was starting to match his hair. “Your white boy skin isn’t looking so good, dude.”
“Yeah. I’m made for more Northern European climates.” Seth winced, glancing down at himself. Then he grabbed his spray sunscreen and liberally applied it, though Emmitt wondered if it would do any good at this point. What he needed to do was put on a T-shirt, but he was probably hoping his six-pack abs and tats would get him some attention from the ladies.
It’d worked the last few days, but that was before Seth burned the tip of his nose and his skin turned lobster red. Still, there were a couple of ladies at the bar who seemed to be checking Seth out, though it could be they were concerned he was going to burn into a pile of ashes on his chair.
“Still, I can’t believe the Marauders didn’t call you up. Especially since Brisbois hasn’t been playing that great,” Seth said, sipping his margarita. He was referring to the Marauders’ goalie, whose play the last two seasons had drawn some considerable criticism. Seth moved his arms, making elaborate creaking sounds. “He looked like a reincarnated mummy monster at the end of the season.”
“Hey, quit it. It’s bad luck to make fun of goalies, even if they’re not me.”
“You don’t have to be superstitious anymore,” Seth pointed out. “We won.”
“We did.” Emmitt took a drink of his beer. It was some kind of light beer, and it had already warmed in the sunlight. He shook his head. “Crazy that I’m gonna play for the Marauders’ archrivals, though. You think they’ll try and jump me when I walk in the locker room, ’cause I was with the Raiders?”
“Nah. If they had that kind of spirit, they might have beat the Marauders in the playoffs.” Seth grinned, resting his hands over his stomach. “I’ll miss you, though, Army. Especially your save percentage.”
Emmitt snorted. They all knew trades were part of hockey, and no one really had expected Emmitt to spend another season in the AHL. But he’d miss Seth, who was one of the few people on his team who knew Emmitt was bisexual. “Hopefully I haven’t ruined the celebratory trip by announcing my imminent departure.”