Hutch
"Hutch, get your ass in here!"
All eyebrows shoot up at Coach's yell. He didn't sound particularly happy. Can't be good.Coach Grimes is a balding man in his late fifties. Used to play in the NHL until he was taken out due to an injury in his third year. We're lucky to have him.
Until he's pissed at one of us.
Then we're not so lucky because he can get particularly creative in his punishments. My first year on the team, I got drunk off my ass and showed up to practice late. By the time he was done making me do ladder drills, I'd puked at least half a dozen times.
And he made the entire team do the same. One person screws up, we all screw up. Team building he said. More like fear of getting your ass beat by your teammates on the daily because you made them puke too.
"What did you do?" Raymond Andrews, one of our right wingers, asks in a hushed voice."No clue." I shrug and stand up, trying to appear unbothered when truthfully I'm shaking inside. This is my last year to impress the pros. I can't get benched, especially at the beginning of the season when scouts are paying attention to up and coming talent.
Coach is sitting behind his desk glaring at whatever paper is in front of him. I hope to God that has nothing to do with me. I haven't done anything recently that I can think of that would put that look on his face. At least I don't think so.
"Coach?"
"Close the door and sit down." He scowls at the paper and I do as he says. This is not good.
"What is this?" He tosses the paper at me.
It's a list of our last three practices stats.
"Uh...stats?"
His lip curls. "I know that, but why do you think I'm pissed?"
When I don't answer right away, he decides to tell me.
"You're four seconds behind the third line and two seconds behind the second line. Do you think that's going to get you attention?"
Shit. I didn't even notice that.
"You're a first line center for a reason, Hutch. We count on you to be faster than everyone else, to get the puck and move it before the other team can catch you. So tell me, what the hell is going on?"
"No one said anything to me about being slower."
"I'm telling you now and I want to know what's going on. What's got you off your game?"
"I don't feel off. Maybe it was just a bad practice. We all have them."
"For the last three in a row?"
My eyes swoop back down to the paper in my hand and sure enough, he's right. My time is off."I don't know."
"You'd better damn well figure it out. We have scouts at Saturday's game. You're the best player I've had in my locker room in years. I don't want you to throw your shot away on booze or women."
"I haven't drunk during the season since I was a freshman."
He purses his lips, not sure if he believes me or not. But it's the truth.
"I'm not dating anyone either."
He snorts. "Its not the steady girlfriend I'm worried about. It's all the one night stands. Partying and whoring, that'll kill your talent faster than anything else."
"So you want me to get a girlfriend?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm trying to find out why you're slowing down."
"I didn't even know that I was slowing down."
To echo Coach, what the hell is going on?
"The Raptors are in a rebuilding year. They're looking for new talent."
Coach looks me straight in the eye and I want to piss my pants. Is he about to say what I think he's about to say?
"I've had several calls from their head coach about you and two other members of the team. I told him you wanted to graduate, but you're willing to talk. He'll be at the game on Saturday. If you're still skating like this, do you think he'll stay to talk?"
Fuck no he won't.
"Shit."
"Exactly, so we need to understand what's slowing you down before then. Go home and think about it, then I want you here at 5 am to run speed drills."
An hour before practice.
If it means getting a spot on the home team here in Minnesota, then I'll run speed drills until I can't walk.
"I'll fix this."
"You better fucking hope so. Now get out and send Mendoza in."
"They want to talk to him too?"
Coach frowns. "They like the dynamic you and he have. If you can get your speed up, they might pick you both up."
"They know he wants to graduate too?"
Coach snarls. "Out boy and go unfuck your head!"
"Yes, sir."
I step out of the office, my head spinning in a million different directions. The Raptors might want to recruit me? I might be able to stay here, close to my mom? That's the dream, but one I didn't think I'd get to realize for years. I don't know what to think.
"Hey, Collin, Coach wants you in his office."
The color drains from his face. "What did we do?"
I shake my head and go to my own locker, grabbing my things and leaving the locker room without a word to anyone. I'd wait on Collin in my truck. I sent him a text to let him know. We'd ridden to practice together and I wasn't about to abandon him here without a ride.
How the fuck did I fall behind in speed? I thought I was skating just fine. It took twenty minutes for Collin to come find him, looking as dazed as he felt.
"What the fuck man?" he whispered when he got in and shut the door. "The fucking Raptors."
"Coach said I'm behind by three seconds in speed on the second and third lines. I don't know how."
"He said I keep letting the wingers on the opposing side sweep past my right. I don't catch it. He's told me this before, but if I want the Raptors to pick me up, I need to fix it."
"I need to get faster and you need to open your eyes. We need to do extra practices. For the next week, we live on the ice."
Collin nodded. "We can stay close to Mama Wanda if they pick us up and I might have the money to bring my mom back legally."
Mama Wanda is what he calls my mother. She smiles every time she hears it. She loves the bloke as much as she does me.
"We gotta fix this."
Collin nods. "We will."
"You hungry?"
"Yeah, I can eat."
When can't he eat?
I start the truck and drive into town, careful to keep my eyes on the road even though I'm distracted. It only takes me a few minutes to find our favorite burger place.
"Yeah man, you're behind on time. Eating burgers and fries is not the best idea."
Fuck, he's right.
"We'll call this our last meal."
He arches a brow. "Look, I need my comfort food right now. Don't give me looks either. We went and had ice cream last week because you needed your comfort food."
"Fine, we'll get burgers and fries and milkshakes today and then start the strict protein, low carb bullshit they want us to eat."
"We always eat like that during the season."
I park the truck and jump out, waving to some guys on the football team that are in the parking lot. They're good guys even though they like to insist football is the only sport worth playing. Until they get slammed up against the boards at high speeds, I call bullshit on that.
"Hey Hutch." Molly, our favorite server smiles as we come in. She's older, maybe in her thirties, but she's as nice as can be. "Tim put a special grilled chicken on the menu for the athletes."
"Good to know, Molly, but we need burgers and fries. Lots and lots of fries."
"And milkshakes," Collin pipes in.
"Are we eating our feelings today?"
We both nod and slide into a booth.
"You want milkshakes or sodas too?"
Should I really intake that much sugar?
Three freaking seconds.
"Coke and Strawberry for me."
"Chocolate and Mountain Dew for me," Collin says.
"Bacon cheeseburgers or just cheeseburgers?"
"Double bacon cheeseburgers." Mind made up, I might as well go all in.
"You're really eating your feelings."
"We'll need to hit the treadmill after this, but it's going to be worth it."
"You sure about that, rookie?"
My head turns and standing there to the left is someone I've followed for a long time. Shaw freaking Chandler. It feels like someone just sucker punched me.
"Uh..."
He shakes his head.
"Daddy?"
He looks down at a little boy who is his spitting image.
"You want a chocolate or vanilla shake?" he asks, keeping his voice soft and even.
"Mmmmmm....chocolate for me and vanilla for Mommie."
"You got it." He glances at our waitress. "Molly, can you sit him at the counter and keep an eye on him for a minute until I talk to these as...guys."
"Sure thing, Shaw." She holds her hand out. "You want to sit on the stools, little man?"
He grins, a dimple showing in his cheek, and takes her hand.
Once he's out of earshot, Shaw motions for Collin to scoot and he does it without hesitation, just as awed as me.
"You guys are being stupid right now. Your season just started and you're eating crap. That'll slow you down on the ice. If your body isn't in the best shape, you'll be shit on the ice."
"Coach said we need to shape up for the game on Saturday." I barely got the words out of my mouth and my hands started pouring rivers of sweat with my nervousness.
"Coach had me come to a couple of your games last season. The two of you work together and we're looking to replace the second line. All of our second line."
"All of them?" Collin gaped at him.
Shaw shrugged. "The owner decided that all the expensive contracts he had that weren't puling their weight had to go. We've pulled players up from the farm team, but we're watching a lot of college players as well. The two of you have a chemistry on the ice it takes some players years to build. You're good, but if you're eating like this, then that won't last."
"It was a last supper sort of thing."
"Has training started?" His tone said you better not fucking lie to me because I already know the answer.
"Yes," we both whisper.
"Get the fucking chicken and water. Sugar and carbs are not your friend. Stick to the meal plan the school dietition gave you. Or the scouts that show up to watch you won't be back because you'll be washed."
Part of me wanted to fight back, to tell him I'd never be washed, but the fan boy in me was screaming that Shaw Freaking Chandler knew who I was.
"Yes, sir," Collin said and they both looked at me.
"Chicken it is."
Shaw nodded and got up. "Hutch, Mendoza, I expect to see you both soon. Don't screw this up."
We waited until he was gone before we started to breathe again.
"Fucking hell," Collin whispered. "He knows our name."
"Molly," I holler over the din of noise and she looks up from behind the counter. "Change our to the chicken."
She laughs and before too long she's brought us water with a lemon wedge. "He freak you out?"
We nod.
"He's a good guy. Brings his kid in every week for milkshakes and our chicken fingers. He loves them. His wife is a fan of the burgers."
"Why have we never seen him?"
She shrugs. "He's good at not being seen unless he wants to be seen." Her hand waves toward the restaurant. "Not hard to do in a place this busy."
The Raptors were loved icons in the city. How did no one bother him when he was here?
"Tim might have threatened bodily harm to people bothering him while he was here with his little boy."
Tim, AKA the owner, was a big man who we all were a little wary of. He looked like he could kick your ass and laugh while he did it. It kept most of the jocks in line, especially the ones who thought they were the shit and could do no wrong.
I hate people like that. My mom always says karma will eventually bite their asses in the end even if it takes decades to do so.
"What are we going to do?" Collin says, his voice low and frustrated.
"Coach said they were interested in three guys on the team. Did he ask to speak with anyone else?"
Collin shakes his head. "Unless he talked to whoever it was privately or didn't say anything because they don't need to work on shit."
"Shaw Freaking Chandler." I sit back and stare out the window. "He's one of the best centers in the NHL and he knows our name."
"Dude, I'm freaked out enough as it is, stop saying his name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're six and getting your first autograph."
"Like you're not acting the same way."
"Hey man!"
Noah Wilson rolls to a stop by our table. He's our goalie. "Coach talk to you two?"
"About the Raptors?"
He nods, his grin so wide, I have a feeling his face would break if it got wider. "He told me I needed to work on blocking my left. I thought I had gotten better, but he doesn't think so."
"I need to work on my speed. I'm off by a couple of seconds and Mendoza is letting the offense in on the right side. We have a lot of work to do by Saturday's game."
"Fuck yeah. I was hoping you guys might help me out."
"Sure man. We can all practice together, but we're going to be living on the ice this week. You good with that?"
"I live on the ice already."
That was true. If he wasn't in class, he was on the ice with someone shooting pucks at his head.
"You hungry?"
"Nah, I'll go find something a little healthier. Burgers sit in my stomach and just weigh me down."
"They put a chicken dish on the menu for the athletes."
"Yeah?"
And just then Molly put a steaming plate of chicken, rice, and veggies down in front of us that smelled divine.
"Shit, that looks hella good."
"You want one?" she asked.
"Yeah, Molls, I want an order and some water if you can, please."
"Coming right up."
"You'll never guess who you just missed." Collin rubbed his hands together gleefully.
"Who?"
"Shaw Chandler and he sat down and talked to us!"
"No fucking way!"
"This is apparently his go to place for ice cream for his kid."
I sat back and listened to Collin and Noah talk, but my mind was on the ice. I needed to get my speed back up if I wanted to make it.
And I'd do everything in my power to get to the NHL.
It was my end goal.
Green eyes flash in my mind and push them away.
I have to focus on hockey and Daisy is a distraction I can't afford.
Sighing, I dig into my food and start planning my new routine for the next few months.
I will make it to the NHL.