Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“How’s Simone doing?” I ask.
Van’s smile softens, his voice filled with such tenderness, it almost makes my chest ache. “She’s doing great. So proud of my girl.”
“Bea’s adorable,” Atlas says, leaning over Van’s shoulder to look at his phone. “Congrats again, man. You’re a lucky guy.”
“Thanks.” Van radiates pride and an almost palpable happiness. “It’s been amazing. This little girl has me wrapped around her pinky finger already.”
After we run through the gamut of photos on Van’s phone, we all pick up our bags and head out of the locker room with him. When we reach the door, I look back one more time to the cubbies and the handful of players still here. Penn is buttoning up his dress shirt, his gear bag still empty on the floor.
“You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up,” I say as I turn away from them.
When I approach Penn, he has that wary look on his face that I’ve come to recognize when someone dares try to have a normal conversation with the dude.
I ignore it and ask, “Want to come to Jerry’s with us? I’ve got room in my car.”
“Appreciate it, but I’ll pass,” he replies, gaze dropping to the buttons on his chest.
“Come on, Penn. Come hang out with us tonight. You should celebrate with a few beers.”
“Not a partier,” he mutters, tucking his shirt into his pants.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m the designated driver. You can drink water with me.”
“Not much into socializing.” His eyes cut to mine for a moment as if to punctuate that statement and he turns to grab his belt.
“Yeah, we’ve noticed. Maybe you should give it a try.”
Penn faces me again, a slight tinge of irritation in his voice. “Look… I appreciate what you’re trying to do. It’s not lost on me the importance of camaraderie. But I don’t do that shit. It’s not something I like or need. And before you argue that it will make us better and stronger as a line or as a team, save it. We’re doing great as is.”
I can’t argue with that. Penn is dominating the points, our team has the highest plus/minus rating in the league and Drake is on fire with the best goals against average. On top of that, we’ve made the power play our bitch by capitalizing on nearly every man advantage we get and my favorite stat, as a defenseman, is that we have the best penalty kill percentage in the league.
Christ, I wish I could figure the guy out. Maybe he’s just a social introvert but that doesn’t vibe with the fact that he’ll talk to you all day long as long as it’s about hockey and nothing personal. He’s not shy with reporters or the cameras. And he’s great with his fans. It seems to only be his teammates he has a problem hanging out with and it doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve been in the league over three years now and your teammates are your brothers.
But not Penn.
I refuse to give up though. “Any interest in just going out for a single beer with me? We can grab some wings. We can talk about the game.”
It’s a bold offer and if he accepts, the guys will be pissed since I promised to be their DD tonight, but I’ll pay for their Uber.
For the briefest moment, I think I see something shuttering in Penn’s eyes. Is that yearning I see? I can’t be sure, but whatever it is dies a swift death and his eyes go flat. “Thanks, but I’m tired and just want to get home.”
“All right,” I say, and hold my fist out for him to bump. He doesn’t hesitate to give it to me. “It’s a standing invite if you ever want to take me up on it.”
“Good game,” is all he replies before giving me his back to rummage around in his cubby. I’ve been effectively dismissed.
“King… you coming?” Rafferty calls from the door.
“I’m coming.”
“You better be since you’re our DD!” he replies, jerking his head for me to step it up.
With a sigh, I turn away from Penn and my futile attempts to get him to be an actual part of this team.
♦
I push open the heavy glass door of Jerry’s Lounge and step inside, instantly greeted by a handful of bikers sitting at the bar. Back thumps and fist bumps accompany our entrance as North, Rafferty, Atlas and I push through the throng.
To my right, the long, polished wooden bar stretches nearly the entire length of the wall. A row of gleaming beer taps lines the bar, each one unique, showcasing different craft beers, local brews and classic favorites. Behind the bar, shelves made of the same dark wood are stocked with an impressive array of liquor bottles. Neon beer signs dot the wall and the bartenders move skillfully, mixing drinks and chatting with regulars. Their practiced movements add to the lounge’s lively yet relaxed energy.