Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
The little chattering that is going on stops automatically. “The Max Horton Foundation has decided to do a casino night for their annual fundraiser.” Everyone looks over at Max. It’s his foundation that Allison started when they first got together, and it is now one of the biggest ones in the hockey community.
“It’s going to be a black-tie event, so if I see any of you in jeans, I will be leaking that you have small equipment and it matches the rest of you,” he says, and the guys all laugh at him. “You will be asked to volunteer an hour or two during the event; just remember it’s for the children when you’re flipping cards over or spinning the ball on the roulette table.”
“Can we bring a date?” one of the rookies, Joe, asks, and Olivier just nods. “Max, think Denise will go with me?” he says, and my head whips around, and I glare at him. He just laughs and looks down. I look over and see that Matthew was watching me, and he now has a smirk on his face.
I don’t bother chatting; instead, I finish getting dressed while Olivier answers questions about the casino night. I grab my helmet, then walk to the ice. I’m the first one on, so I skate around, getting my sharpened skates just the way I like them.
The practice is full throttle with Coach riding our asses hard. I get off the ice, heaving with sweat dripping down my face. “Bus leaves in one hour, boys!” Olivier shouts into the room. Everyone is on the bus before the hour, and we take off earlier than expected.
The plane ride is about fifty minutes. I grab my bag when I walk off the plane and head to the team bus. Chatting is at a low; Matthew sits next to me on the bus, and Max comes in after him, sitting across from me. “Want to hit up the steak place near the hotel?” Matthew says to me, and I look over at him.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say to him, and then Max butts in.
“That works for me too.”
“No one asked you,” Matthew says, and I know he’s joking because he smirks.
“He’s just throwing a hissy fit because we are tied at first place for points, and he knows I’ve been going easy to make him feel better about himself.” Max smiles proudly at him.
“Fuck you,” Matthew says. “You’re lucky I love my niece and nephew.”
Max throws his head back and laughs while Phil comes in and sits next to Max. “What are you two arguing about now?”
“Matthew’s pissed he’s getting old and can’t score,” Max says, and then Phil just shakes his head, laughing to himself.
“Aren’t you two almost the same age?” Phil asks him, and Max smiles at him.
“He’s six months older.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Older,” he emphasizes.
“These two are like the honeymooners. You never know who is going to send who to the moon,” Phil says, adjusting his tie as the bus takes off and heads toward the hotel. Check-in is a breeze, and I grab a key from Olivier. “Meet in twenty minutes,” Max says, going toward the elevator and getting in. “Gotta FaceTime my girls,” he says, and the doors close while he smiles.
“He’s going to have face sex with my sister. Gross,” Matthew says, walking to the elevator with me.
“I don’t even know what that means,” I tell him, “nor do I want to know.”
We get off on the same floor because his room is right next to mine. “Knock when you’re ready to go down,” I tell him, swiping my key card. Dumping my bag on the floor, I take my phone out and FaceTime my mother.
She answers on the first ring, and it looks like she’s in the kitchen. I look over and see it’s almost five.
“Hello,” she says, “you got in safe?”
“I did,” I tell her. “Are you preparing dinner?”
“I am,” she says and turns the phone around to make me see she is making a pasta sauce. “My boy wants spaghetti.” She smiles. “Little does he knows I’m making squash spaghetti.” She laughs.
“Where is he?” I ask, noticing he isn’t jumping for the phone.
“He’s playing mini stickswith a friend,” she says, and my eyebrows pinch together.
“What friend?”
“Let me show you,” she says, and I see her walk down the hall to where he is playing mini stick. She doesn’t have to go much farther before I hear a familiar laugh.
“That was a good shot.” I hear Denise’s voice, and my mother turns the camera around, and I take in the sight.
Denise stands in the middle of the hallway, dressed in jeans and a thick Stingers sweater shirt with Horton on the back, and her hair tied on the top of her head. She’s refereeing the game between Jack and Michael. “Say hi to Dad,” my mother says, and all eyes come to me.