BREAKAWAY (The Dartmouth Cobras) (12 page)

"No offense, but that's
sooo
not happening." Jami grinned as he dropped her hand, stepping back like she'd slapped him. "
Aww
, babe, you're not going to take offence, are you? You really think a girl can forget you telling her 'That's sick' when she begs you, in the heat of the moment, to call her your nasty little bitch?"

"You caught me off guard."

"Several times." Jami inclined her head. "But your reaction never changed. And that's okay. I've accepted that you and me wanted different things."

"All right, but what about Sebastian? You're not seriously going to tell me you have anything in common with him?" Ford glanced around at the empty hall, as though worried that someone might be listening. "I've heard things about him. Trust me, he's not for you. If anything, he's using you to cover up—"

"Damn it, Ford. Did you have him followed?" Her palm itched to slap him when he looked away. "Why? Because of me?"

"He's using you."

"Not yet he isn't." Jami smirked at Ford's shocked expression. "What would you say if I told you I was planning to use him?"

"I'd say you're full of shit. He's a Dom. You don't like giving up control unless you're drunk or stoned. And even if you did, you're built all wrong to interest him."

"
What?
"

"He's into guys, Jami. He spent two hours in a hotel room with Luke Carter."

"Ford, that's a stretch. All the players share rooms on the road."

"Luke shares a room with Landon Bower."

"So what? If every time the men were alone together, it meant they were fucking each other, they'd all have asses too sore to skate. And either way, even if he's doing guys, why does that mean he's using me?" She smirked. "You fucked other girls while we were together. Were
you
using me?"

"Yes." Ford met her eyes. His face went hard. "I was using you. You're the GM's daughter. I was hoping you'd give me some access. But since I ended up being the owner's son, I didn't need you."

Her stomach lurched. She ran her tongue over her teeth and inhaled. "Really. So how does this confession fit into the part where you want me back?"

"I thought you'd appreciate some honesty. Sebastian won't give it to you."

"That's just awesome, Ford. So what is it, you think I've got to choose between the two of you?" She stepped up to him and glared up into his handsome, hard edged, bad boy face. "I. Don't. Need. Anyone. Got that?"

"I got it. But I could give you—"

"What exactly, hot stuff?" She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she spun on her skate blades. "Did I ever tell you I'm not into reruns?"

"I could treat you right, Jami."

"You had your chance. I wasn't impressed." She gave him one last long look over her shoulder. "Good luck though. I don't hate you, so I really hope you can find someone nice. A clean cut chick who can watch you fuck other woman and still curl up in your arms at night and tell you you're all she needs."

"You
were
all I needed, Jami. I just didn't know it," Ford said, quietly.

"Well, you weren't all
I
needed. Goodbye, Ford."

She rounded the corner quickly as her composure snapped. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she cursed under her breath. She'd loved him. In that young, I-don't-know-better way, but it had been real at the time. And seeing him brought it all back. Her intense attraction to Sebastian hadn't changed that. She'd thought she was over Ford, but with rehab, and living away from everything that had pitched her into a freefall, she hadn't really had a chance to get over him. They'd had some good times. She remembered sitting in her car, out by the pier, her head on his shoulder, talking about how they both wanted more than what their parents wanted for them. Her dad thought as long as she stayed in school, she'd eventually figure it out. If she stayed in school for the rest of her life, he'd write that off as doing
something.
Ford's father wanted him in the family business. And nothing else would be enough.

They'd made love in that car more times than she could count. It had been in storage while she'd stayed with her grandmother, and when she'd gotten it back, she hadn't thought too much about the memories it held. But now, she had the sudden urge to go out and total it in a ditch. Her love for the old, funky thing had died with her love for Ford. Or was dying.

Fuck, it hurt.

She
paced
up and down the hall, and after what seemed like forever, Akira burst through the doors that led to the rink. She squealed, then cut herself off.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Jami went to Akira and hugged her tight. "How did you do? After that reaction, I'd say you did good?"

"If them standing up and cheering is anything to go by? Yes!" Akira giggled. "One of the judges said 'I would come to see the game just for that performance. You can do better than being an Ice Girl and I really shouldn't be telling you that!'"

"Wow! Oh, sweetie! You're a sure bet!" The dejection that had seized her like a cold iron fist around her heart loosened its grip. She kept hugging Akira and decided, then and there, that she would make the team. She would do this with Akira.

The door opened and a baby faced blond waved to her. "Jami? Come on. You're the last one up."

Last?
Damn, how had she not noticed that no one else was out here waiting? Going last meant all the judges had probably chosen their favorites. Yeah, she was good on the ice, but was she good enough to make an impression? Getting in had been easy, but Silver couldn't help her any more than she already had. From this point on, it was all on Jami to prove herself.

Akira must have caught the uncertainty in her expression, because she squeezed her arm and said firmly, "You can do this."

"I'm just one out of a hundred girls, Akira. And they're going to want to show they're not taking it easy on me because of who my dad is. How can I make them forget that and give me a chance?"

"Make an impression, Jami. Go out there and put on a performance they won't be able to pass over."

 
Jami nodded and followed the blond through the long hallway that led to the rink. The woman gestured to some shovels and trash cans, set up beside a rack of hockey sticks and asked Jami if she wanted to use them in her performance. Scraping snow off the ice was a big part of the Ice Girl's job.

The sticks drew her attention as she shook her head. She hadn't played hockey in years, but she remembered going to the outdoor rink near their old house with her dad, where he taught her how to skate, how to hold a stick, how to control the puck. She suddenly had an idea. A crazy idea.

Looking over the sticks, she paused by the ones in the #11 slot. Sebastian's sticks. She grinned and grabbed one. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind if she borrowed it.

Nice weight. A little long for her, but dad's sticks had always been too big and they were all she'd ever played with. She looked over at the blond who stood with the door to the rink open, waiting for her.

"Can you get me a few pucks?"

"Sure . . . ." The blond went into the equipment room and came out with a small stack. Her plump red lips twisted slightly. "You do know that the Ice Girls don't play hockey, right?"

Really? Damn, and I thought I'd get a chance to put my name on The Cup!
Jami resisted the urge to roll her eyes and smiled sweetly. "I know. But the cameras will be rolling for clips for the show, right? I was
kinda
hoping to put on a performance worth the reel, you know?"

"All right, but . . . ." The woman laughed and shook her head. "I usually tell the girls to just smile and make it clear they can captivate the crowd. I have a feeling I should tell you not to miss whatever you're shooting at."

"Good advice." Jami took a step forward, then paused and glanced back at the blond. "Are you one of the judges?"

"Not for this, no. I'm a veteran Ice Girl for the Islanders. A bunch of us signed up to judge the next round. You'll be heading off against us in the final showdown." She held out her hand. "The name's Sahara. I hear you're the GM's daughter?"

Jami shook Sahara's hand and cringed as she nodded. "Yeah. Me getting into the top hundred wasn't really fair."

"No, maybe it wasn't. But you've got to work twice as hard prove you deserve this as much as the rest. They're looking to cut you, to tell you the truth. A few of them are worried that your dad won't like seeing you out there." Sahara jutted her chin towards the stick in Jami's hand. "Give them a reason to keep you around."

"Will do." Jami sucked in all the air she could fit in her lungs and strode out to the ice. She set the pucks on top of the boards by the benches. The music she'd requested,
I
Wanna
Be Bad by Willa Ford,
started up. She slid out, stretching her legs as she sped up, holding the stick like any hockey player would. Then she spun and skated backwards, letting her hair sweep over her face as she smiled provocatively at the judges. Skidding to a stop, skates spitting up snow from the ice, she held the stick between her thighs and twirled around it like a stripper pole dancing. Down low, she dipped back, bracing one hand on the ice as she thrust her hips up, once, twice, before spreading her thighs into the splits even as she slid forward. Her hair whipped over her face as she leapt up.

Murmurs from the judges. She didn't know what to make of them. But she didn't stop as she danced over to the boards, jutting out her chest and grinding down without slowing. As she rose again she struck out with her hand so the pucks waiting for her went flying. She did another quick spin and took a shot. The puck hit the goal post with a loud
clang.
She giggled and shrugged, dancing some more before taking another shot. Right down the middle. She pantomimed using her stick as a bow and shot an invisible arrow at the judges.

Two more goal posts, just because she liked the sound, then a smooth shot in the top corner. She lifted the stick over her head and dropped to one knee as the music stopped.

Silence.

She held her breath.

Finally, someone spoke up. "Thank you, Miss Richter. That was very nice."

Very nice.
She headed off the ice, blinded by the stinging tears filling her eyes.
Very nice.

They weren't impressed.

Very nice.

"Jami?" Akira caught her by the shoulder. "Oh no. What's wrong?"

"They hated it." Jami swallowed a sob. Damn it, why had she fooled herself into believing she could do this? Why had she put herself out there? They must think she was some kind of joke, flaunting herself like that, after they'd already decided they didn't want her. "Ugh, it wouldn't be so bad if I'd just gone out and skated around a bit. But I tried. I tried so hard to make them see that I have what it takes."

"Stop it! Right now." Akira pushed her against the wall and put her hands on her hips. "This isn't over. You still have the dance tryouts."

"But I can't dance!"

"Oh, yes you can. And I won't let you sleep until you can do the routine."

"Have mercy, girl! I need to sleep!"

"Jami . . . ." Akira glanced down the hall and cursed under her breath. "They want me to do an interview for the show. I hate being in front of the cameras!"

Jami swallowed back her own insecurities, feeling much better dealing with Akira's. At least the girl would make it. And
she
deserved to make it. "You'll do fine. Just be your adorable self. Pretend you're talking to me when you answer their questions."

"I can do that." Akira took a step forward, then paused. "Are you going to be okay? Do you still want me to come over tonight?"

"Hell yeah! I'm planning to drown my sorrows in a bowl of ice cream with chocolate sauce. You in?"

"Absolutely." Akira took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. "You going to hang around or should I catch the bus?"

"No, I'll wait for you." Jami forced a smile to her lips. "I'll go see if my dad's around, chill with him until you're done. I'll be on the fourth floor."

"I'll meet you there."

The air seemed tar thick as Jami made her way to the elevator. She went to her father's office, but it was locked. He was probably with Silver and Landon. Good thing. She wasn't really ready to tell him about the Ice Girl thing. Especially since it seemed like she wasn't doing anything with it. Because she was his daughter.

In the elevator, she realized, for the first time, that she was still carrying around Sebastian's stick. It was about time she took it back, but for some reason, just holding it made her feel better. The weight in her hands was nice. Familiar. She held the stick against her chest as the elevator went down. Maybe she should think about doing something like what Akira planned to do. Teach kids. She had no idea where to start, but she knew the game good enough to show young girls how to play. And there were girls who wanted to learn. Of course, she had nothing to recommend her, other than being the daughter of a pro team's GM, but rather than let it hold her back, maybe she could use it to her advantage.

Being 'Miss Richter' doesn't have to be a bad thing.
Maybe it was now, but for girls with dreams of making the pro women's league, they'd figure she—or her dad—had connections. She wanted nothing more than to show her father that his team meant something to her, but she still had to look to her own future. And she didn’t have a goal of her own. Maybe this could be it.

She got off the elevator at the basement level, stopped by the equipment room to drop off Sebastian's stick, then headed towards the parking garage. Akira knew where she parked. She could wait for her there, listening to music and drinking one of the cans of Dr. Pepper she kept in a case in her trunk. No need to get all depressed. She'd figure things out.

As she pushed on the bar handle for the garage door, a thick arm crossed her chest. She let out a shocked scream. A hand covered her mouth.

"You did well, mi cielo." His hot breath stirred her hair and she shivered. "I do not understand why you looked so sad before you left the ice."