Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (17 page)

“So we’re going to skate and have a good time this afternoon. And then we’re going to go home, change and be on our best behavior because we’re going to see
my sister
play. Not the New York Philharmonia. My sister. Which means you need to give
my baby sister
, and the rest of the ensemble she plays with, the proper respect. “

Baby. Sister.

Merde.

“Lucky Seven? You got a problem?”

Max shook his head. “
Non capitane
,” he replied, the French instinctively tripping off of his tongue as he sat up at attention. “No problem. Just thinking about how…amazing this is going to be.”

“Better starstruck than lovestruck,” his defense partner muttered.

Lovestruck?

Merde.

That would be horrible.

Kayleigh

By the time she’d finally made it out of the changing room and onto the Bryant Park ice rink, tons of people were already skating. She could see happy faces, and every facet of New York’s population represented; it looked like a veritable United Nations, and made her delirious with excitement. And, she thought, it was only the first event in this city wide lead-up to the Winter Classic.

She began to skate, taking very easy laps around the edge of the ice, neither too close to the railing nor too close to the center, where some of the hockey players were making idiots of themselves in front of a few small children. Both her brothers were in a corner with Melanie and Emily. From what she could tell, the small group was either in an intense conversation or playing a stupid game.

And as she wanted to involve herself with neither, she continued to skate around the rink by herself. As she did, she caught random glimpses of other hockey players she recognized as they skated around with family members and other random people.

“Can I have this lap?”

“Of all the ice rinks in the world,” she answered as she looked up to see Max standing beside her.

The clueless expression on his face made it clear he hadn’t caught the reference. So she shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and reached out her hand. “Why not?” she said.

He nodded and took her hand in his. They began to skate side by side. And it was wonderful. He didn’t force her to speed up or slow down. It felt comfortable.

“I love this,” she confessed. “It’s crazy but…”

Suddenly, he’d moved them both to the left, then the right.

“There was,” he managed “someone who…would fall on the ice. I did not…want you to
sois blesse
.”

“Hurt? Me?” She laughed, then stopped when she saw the serious expression on his face. “I appreciate it,” she said. “But I’m fine. I’ve been doing this for a while.”

Once again, she was forced to acknowledge how pretty his eyes were when he smiled. “But they have not,” he answered, worry in his voice. “They…do not have control, and you would end up in their fall.”

“Thanks,” she answered, understanding what he meant despite how awkward his phrasing was. “I appreciate it. In fact. I liked it.”

Max

She liked it.

The strange, happy warmth that came from spending time with her stayed with him as he went back to the apartment to change for the evening. He took a quick shower and changed into the blazer and dress pants he’d brought with him from Stratford. Maman would never have forgiven him if he hadn’t brought proper dress clothing.

Finally he arrived at the concert hall, comfortable in his blazer and dress pants. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to find his teammates.

“Glad you all made it,” said the captain. “Quiet, and we sit together. Enjoy the performance.”

He sat down next to Evans and stared up at the stage. According to the program, there would be a few different selections. Different pieces, different composers. Some he’d heard before, and some he hadn’t. He was looking forward to it all the same.

As the lights dimmed, he sat straighter in his seat and focused his attention on the orchestra. Not the muddle of feelings he was getting around him, but the lowering of the conductor’s baton and the beginning of the concert. He let himself get lost in the motion and the music that followed.

Of course, he couldn’t help the way his gaze followed Kayleigh as she stood for her solos, and how wonderfully she played. She was magical…

The snicker and the elbow from the other side forced him to remember he was in public. With his teammates. And that he needed to keep his guard up.

“He’ll kick your ass,” Evans said.

Max blinked, confused. “Eh?”

“Emerson. You’re mentally undressing his sister. Take it down fifty notches in public, mm?”

He huffed out a breath and hoped he wasn’t pink with the blush. “She’s amazing with…
le violon
. She is…”

“Chris Emerson’s baby sister.”

The tone was quiet enough, and final enough, that Max forced himself to focus on the music, and hopefully not so obviously on the violin player.

Kayleigh

Kayleigh came out of the side entrance, ready to join the excited group of people who’d come to see her play. It had been a beautiful night.

“You were wonderful,” Chris enthused, his bright eyes and proud-brother expression making her smile.

“Goddess,” Chris’s girlfriend gushed. Melanie always gushed after a performance.

“You’re amazing,” Bryce added. She liked when her oldest brother smiled. “So proud of you. I think you sparkle…”

“No sparkling!” she joked. “We’re from an area too close to Washington state that people are already talking.”

Bryce rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad.” He patted her on the head as only he would. “Seriously, Kay. You can’t be so pop-culture obsessed anyway. Aren’t you a classical musician?”

Once again she sighed at the artist who was her brother. “It’s hard to play classical music in the modern world without having one foot in it.” She leaned in to her brother’s ear. “And if you insult those books in front of Arun, he’ll hurt you.”

Her brother shook his head. “Kayleigh. I love you,” he said as he walked away, exasperated in a way she didn’t care. Yep. Bryce as she knew him was back. And she loved every annoying minute of him.

“This does not stop getting good, Kay,” a familiar voice chimed.

“Ohmigosh,” she gushed as Sousanna, her best friend from high school, caught her up in a huge hug. She must have left her boyfriend to watch the over the Elk, the bar they owned not far from the Poutinerie. “So glad you’re here, Sousa.”

“Course, girlie,” Sousa replied. “You know I’ll always come when I can.” Then she paused, staring at the cluster of hockey players who stood about twenty feet away. “What’s up with that?”

“Chris probably gave them the ‘stay away, she’s my sister’ speech.”

“Oh boo, that sucks.”

“An understatement to be sure.” Kayleigh sighed. “I don’t even know why he’s so protective. Damn it. I’ve been in New York long enough to warrant a reunion! At Julliard!”

“Because you’re his baby sister,” Sousa replied. “And hockey is so fucking tribal.”

Team was team, and family was family, and hockey was both. But at least she wasn’t the only sibling who had to deal with Chris’s overprotectiveness. Bryce also got the Emerson sibling babysitting treatment. Of course in his case, she’d always thought it was warranted…

“Uh, oh. Upset hockey player at twelve o’clock…”

Once again, Sousanna’s voice broke into her thoughts. Kayleigh turned in the direction her friend indicated, meeting Max’s bright blue eyes. He grinned; she hoped he was grinning back at her.

“You think blue eyes is going to cross the border?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Rookie,” she informed her friend. “Totally not going to happen.”

“So why not send him a something?”

“What do you mean?”

The look on her friend’s face was the ‘you’ve lost your mind, and I need to fix it’ look she’d known since they were kids. “Give me something
to give
him.”

Understanding hit her, so she took the program, the pen Sousa gave her, and gave Max
something
.

Max

Both Emily from the PR office and Emerson had each cornered him during intermission and told him he needed to avoid the first chair viola player.

Emily had said some random collection of words, too quickly and too close together. He didn’t really get it, only her insistence and her concern. So he nodded. Thankfully his captain had seen him coming back from the bathroom.

“Dude doesn’t think it’s possible that a hockey player can speak more than one language,” Emerson had said. “Avoid him like the motherfucking plague.” Max understood that. So when he got back to his seat, Max took another look through the program, made a note of the first chair viola player, and resolved to avoid him.

Except it was hard to avoid someone while they were heading toward him like a cannonball. And he couldn’t get away.

Merde.

He needed help, a diversion, and he wasn’t sure how to get one. And then he remembered he wasn’t alone. He turned toward Evans.

“What’s wrong?”

Putting this situation into English would be difficult, but he’d manage it. “This man…the viola player. I have been told to…avoid him. He is…not believing that an athlete that is…can speak two languages.”

“Ah. He looks pretty intent on talking to you.” Brody patted him on the shoulder, confirming he understood. “Leave it to me. Duck and hide. I’ll take care of him.”

Max nodded and headed off, grateful for the assist.

“Thank god you stepped away from him,” said the tall woman who had moved next to him. “I did not want to deal with that guy.”

“Any particular reason?”

“He’s an asshole,” she replied without a pause. “I genuinely find him as interesting as a piece of rubber. You, however, I find fascinating. As does one of my dearest friends.”

He blinked. “I don’t…I…”

She grinned back at him. “It’s fine. You’re adorable. She likes you.” She took something from her pocket and passed it over to him. “She expects you to use it.”

And without any other word, she left him alone to figure out what to do.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Thank you for this. I enjoyed the concert. Wonderful choices of music, and the ensemble plays beautifully.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Max

From : [email protected]

To [email protected]

Hey. It was great to see you at the concert. Yes, you had to be there, but still…

Chris is a dork. Ignore him if you have to.

K

From: [email protected]

To [email protected]

Thanks. You play well. It’s hard to get that sound out of a violin. My mother used to take me to the symphony. I tried to play when I was younger. It did not work. I admire you.

Max

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Like the dodge on the comment about my brother. But it’s OK. I’m his sister. I’m allowed to call my brother names, even if you don’t think you can. And thanks.

K

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Can you wear gloves? Even without fingers? Or does that make playing difficult?

Max

While the team was in the middle of a bizarre schedule which had them free during the week and playing back to back game on weekends, Max got an email from Emily Gould in the team’s PR office. The email demanded his presence at the premiere party for the commercial he’d shot a few weeks earlier. Since he was looking for something to do that wouldn’t get him into trouble, it was easy for him to comply.

“So this is the story,” Emily began as they arrived at the venue, a hall on 36th and Broadway. “Mingle, talk with everybody, have a drink, make nice with everybody. But not too much because someone from the mayor’s office will come and get you when it’s your turn to run the press junket. I’ll go find out who’s there, and I’ll take you through. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Thank you,” he managed as he waded into the party itself. High ceilings, waiters in black tie, tons of mixed up emotions, to the point where he took refuge in a glass of seltzer, not wanting to risk anything further.

But within two minutes of leaving the bar, he’d began to talk to people. The most fascinating was Pedro Dominguez, the center fielder for the for the baseball team whose stadium was going to be used for the Winter Classic. With the help of two different sports reporters—a Spanish reporter whose name he couldn’t understand, and Pierre LeBlanc, a reporter from one of the Quebec based sports networks—acting as translators, he and Pedro were having a really good conversation.

“It’s your turn, Mr. St. Laurent,” said a representative from the mayor’s office.

After saying his good-byes to everybody, he followed Emily to where the press was set up. First were the reporters from print and online publications, some of which he kept up with; he got a kick out of telling them that he liked their sites

Next were the TV reporters: the hockey network, followed by the network devoted to covering the Empires. He also managed to tell them how much he appreciated their time. Then came the other networks that wanted what Anglos called “sound bites.”

Those were easy, and even though it took a while to get through it all, he was proud of himself. No major mistakes under the bright lights of the cameras. He took his time, breathed, and listened. He also made sure that Emily Gould remained in his line of sight.

“Good job,” she said as they headed into a small room just off the end of the long junket. She grabbed a bottle of water from the counter and passed it to him. He smiled in thanks, opened the bottle and drank down about half of it.

“Thanks,” he managed once he’d drunk enough to soothe his throat. “I think…”

“You’re doing fine, Max,” she assured him, clapping him on the shoulder. Even though his
percée
told him she was terrified, he took the assurance as it was given. “One more to go.”