On the Surface (In the Zone) (5 page)

The thought of going into the children’s ward and seeing sick little kids made his stomach seize up, but he steeled himself. His emotional discomfort was nothing compared to what they were going through. “No, I’ll be there. I got your email. I just never replied. Street clothes or jersey?”

“Jersey.”

“Also, is there some way I can get some swag for the nurse? She had a hat she wanted me to sign, but it got stolen.”

“Excellent. Sure, just stop by the PR office. Someone there can set you up. Let’s give her whatever she wants. We need her. You need her.”

“I also need a pair of tickets for a cab driver friend of mine.”

“No problem. Same deal. Talk to the PR office.”

After they hung up, Tim ran a Google search on himself and saw the incident had already been broadcast on the internet—Twitter, Facebook, you name it, complete with video.
Hollander scuffles with a fan.
Hollander breaks a guy’s face at Q Burger.
Brutal Barracuda fan encounter.

Shit.

The Q Burger manager approached. “Someone told me what happened. You were right to step in. Guy probably beats on women all the time.”

Tim shrugged. “I probably could have used a little more restraint.”

“Nah. Guys like that? You need to make your point crystal clear. Now, I bet you worked up an appetite.”

“I am pretty hungry,” Tim admitted. The pungent aroma of charbroiled burgers had tantalized him since he’d arrived.

“Come on inside and we’ll make you whatever you want, on the house. Have you tried the Barracuda burger?”

Chapter Six

When Erin returned to the hospital, Dr. O claimed he was behind on paperwork and took his food to his office. His polite but quick thank-you and retreat made her feel like his subordinate, like she was nothing more than a gofer to him. In addition, he didn’t even give her the chance to tell him what had happened with that Tim Hollander guy.

She tried to convince herself it didn’t matter. If Tim came through and delivered the autographed stuff they’d talked about, Erin would have quite a hand to play. She planned to wait patiently for the right moment to give the stuff to him. (Maybe when Jackie the Underwear Flasher was in attendance so she could see Dr. O falling all over himself to thank her.)

Tammy did stick around for the story, and the moment she heard that Erin had encountered not one, but two Barracudas, she went ballistic.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Tammy demanded. “I would have come down too.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it.” They unwrapped their burgers. Tammy had gotten the bacon avocado burger. Erin stuck with a plain but well-seasoned cheeseburger. “I was busy haggling with a twelve-year-old for a hat. And then the guy in front of me got beat up.” She pulled a thick, beer-battered onion ring out of the bag and took a bite.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Erin started to describe what had happened and the moment she mentioned Tim Hollander’s name, Tammy almost spit out the mouthful of soda she had in her mouth.

“That’s the guy who’s coming tomorrow,” Tammy exclaimed. “Tim Hollander.”

“That’s why his name sounded familiar.”

Tammy opened a ketchup packet and squirted it on a napkin. “Well, now I don’t feel so bad. I mean, I’ll get to meet him tomorrow.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “It’s going to be so great.”

“As long as he doesn’t beat anyone up,” Erin commented.

Tammy scoffed. “What are you talking about? Of course he won’t.” But at Erin’s skeptical expression, Tammy said, “What? What am I missing?”

“He bloodied some guy’s nose at Q Burger. That’s what I started to tell you.” Erin went on to describe the whole scene.

Tammy stared at her. “He actually pulled that guy over the table?”

“Like a rag doll. I swear.”

Tammy smiled wryly. “I think I’m getting wet.”

Erin choked on her soda. “Tammy!”

“Tell me you didn’t get the tiniest bit excited watching him defend you.”

Erin thought back and had to admit that, yes, the sight of that big muscly male pounding on a guy who had just pushed her had done a few things to her insides. It galled her to realize that she responded to such a primitive display, but she couldn’t deny it. And when she’d touched his hand afterward, she’d gotten the tingles.

Darla poked her head into the room. “Phone for you, Erin. Line one. Want me to take a message?”

“No, I’ll get it. Thanks.”

“I’ll clean up for you,” Tammy said and Erin smiled her appreciation.

“This is Erin Collier,” she said when she picked up the phone at the nurse’s station.

“Hello, Ms. Collier, my name is James Atwater. I’m a PR rep with the Barracudas hockey club. I understand that you were involved in an altercation at Q Burger today with one of our players, Tim Hollander.”

“Yes, that was me.”

“I hope you’re all right, first of all.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I can’t say as much for the scammer guy though.”

“Right. Tim told me you examined him and his nose was not broken. Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a relief.”

“And like I said before, I’m willing to testify if that jerk tries to sue. Tim was only trying to defend me.”

Tammy came back from the lounge and sat near one of the computers.

“Thank you. We appreciate that. It’s nice to know someone’s willing to go the extra mile. These days, you don’t see that as often as you should. In fact, that’s the reason for my call. Do you think you might agree to a press conference?”

“A press conference?” Erin immediately pictured flashbulbs blinding her, people shouting questions at her a mile a minute. Tammy was suddenly paying close attention.

“I think it could help Tim. He’s going to take a beating—no pun intended—in the press. I’ve already seen some of the video people took. I didn’t see any that showed the guy pushing you. It seems like no one started filming until after that had already happened. Tim looked pissed off and the fact that there was blood...they’re going to crucify him.” He sighed audibly. “Tim could really use your help.”

“Wow. You are so totally playing the guilt card.”

He chuckled. “Is it working?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she admitted. “The whole thing is probably my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth in the first place.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“When?”

“Can you be at the Mesa Arena at seven?”

“Will Tim be there?”

“If I have to drag him.”

Erin thought about it. “Okay, but make it eight.”

“You’re a doll. I thank you. Tim thanks you. The entire Barracuda organization thanks you. I’ll have someone meet you at the east entrance. Oh, and can you wear your nurse’s uniform? I’m sure they’ll ask questions about your qualifications since you examined him, and it’ll play better.”

“Sure.”

She hung up.

“Wow,” Tammy said. “You’re a celebrity.”

Erin laughed. “I am not.”

“You’re giving a press conference. That means you’re a celebrity. What are you going to wear?”

“He told me to wear my scrubs.”

Tammy pursed her lips in thought. “Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard. Better put on fresh underwear though.”

Erin threw a pen at her.

* * *

Near the end of her shift, Erin heard a deep male voice near the elevators ask which way pediatrics was. She leaned out to wave whoever it was over and almost choked on her gum when she recognized Tim Hollander, all six foot and more of him, walking down the pale yellow corridor of pediatrics.

“Tammy,” she whispered urgently, finger-coming her hair and tossing her gum in the trash. Tim was fifteen feet away.

Tammy was entering data into the computer. “What?” she answered, without looking up.

“You might want to make sure you’ve got lipstick on.”

“Why?” Tammy looked over and her jaw dropped.

Tim stood, his hands flat on the counter. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt with some sort of hockey logo on it and the letters NHLPA. Erin felt a flutter in her stomach.

“Oh my God,” Tammy squeaked, walking toward them in slow motion, as if afraid to scare him away by moving too fast.

Tim nodded at her.

“You’re—you’re...”

“Tim.”

“
Tim
.” Tammy repeated the name reverently. Erin half expected her to curtsey or genuflect.

He nodded again, his smile strangely tight, his forehead wrinkled as if he had a bad headache. He took a deep breath through his mouth. “Are you a hockey fan? What’s your name?”

Erin just cocked her hip, crossed her arms and watched the show.

“Tammy. Tammy Butler. I’m, ah, I’ll be the one taking you around tomorrow. It is tomorrow, you know. Not today,” she said, regaining some of her composure.

“Right. I know. It’s just that Erin and I have a press conference in a few minutes, and I thought I’d give her a ride over to the arena. The press room can be tricky to find.”

Tammy glanced over at Erin. Her expression said,
Oh my God.
I
love this guy.
You should marry him right now.

Erin shot a look back that said,
Don’t be ridiculous.
You know darn well I’m marrying Dr.
O.

“So, we’d better get going or we’re going to be late,” Tim said.

“I just need to wrap up a few things here and we can go.”

“Do you think you can scare up an antacid somewhere? I think something at lunch didn’t agree with me.”

Erin raised her eyebrows. “Oh, sure. Give me a sec.”

* * *

As they exited Good Sam, Tim relaxed visibly. The color returned to his face. She thought he must be one of those people who were scared of hospitals. Funny. A big, strong guy like that afraid of a building.

They headed to Tim’s SUV, an extremely plush, extremely large Escalade. She’d lived in apartments smaller than this.

“Overcompensate much?” she asked. Immediately afterward, she winced. Her and her big mouth. Still, she wanted to know what he’d say. Would he get all defensive like she expected?

No. He shrugged. “You know, you got a small dick, you do what you gotta do.”

Unable to help herself, she quickly glanced down at his crotch. Was he serious? She brought her eyes back up to his, which were twinkling. Nah. She didn’t think so. If he did, he probably wouldn’t be joking about it. He’d be buying penis pumps.

“Good one,” she said, giving him a thumbs-up for the comeback. Now he seemed more like the Tim she remembered from Q Burger.

She climbed inside and she inhaled deeply. “Oh, new car smell.”

“Yeah.” He flashed her a grin that got more devastating every time she saw it. He had a solid five o’clock shadow now and looked even more ruggedly handsome for it.

“So, how’s your hand?” she asked.

“It’s fine. This is nothing. Now, ask me after I’ve connected with someone’s helmet? Different story.”

She nodded. “See? I knew it. You fight all the time. On the ice. Off the ice. Fight, fight, fight all the time.”

“I do not.” His chuckle was deep. “Seriously, I don’t. But when I do, it’s necessary.”

“Didn’t we go over this before? I don’t see how it’s necessary, especially in a game. In combat, sure. You’re cornered by thugs? Of course. But in a game...?”

Tim exited the hospital parking lot. His car rode smooth and the leather upholstery was buttery soft. The center dash looked as if he could probably program a course for the planet Vulcan.

“Okay, it’s like this. One of your teammates recently tore the ligaments in his ankle. He’s only just now healed enough to play again. But some fuck—” He caught himself a second too late. “Sorry. Some bastard from the other team deliberately slashes him with his stick. Where?” He glanced at her.

“In the ankles?”

“Bingo. The ref doesn’t see it, of course, because Slasher’s too sly for that. But
I
see it. In fact, I see the son of a bitch going back to his bench with a smirk on his face.”

She frowned, seeing his point now. “Okay, you know what that is? That’s sweep the leg!” she said indignantly.

The Karate Kid
was one of her favorite movies, mainly because it was one of her big brother’s favorite movies and he’d made her watch it more times than she could count. At the climax of the movie, the coach of the evil karate kids ordered someone to “sweep the leg” of the good karate kid, Daniel, even though, or maybe especially because Daniel almost withdrew from the tournament because of a leg injury earlier in the day. It had always made her furious to see such underhandedness, even if it was fictional.

“Exactly,” Tim agreed. “Sweep the leg. That’s what happens sometimes. No way we can let guys get away with that. So next shift, someone goes out and checks the guy.” Tim made a horizontal pushing motion with his forearm.

“I’m sorry, checking is like a hit, right?”

“Yeah, a body hit.”

“Because I know what hits are. Friends of mine told me.” She rested her elbow on the armrest. “Well, I hate to admit it, but I can see a primitive justice in that kind of situation.”

“If a team knows you won’t put up with shit, they won’t try as much, especially against smaller players.”

Tim pulled into a driveway on the side of the arena and flashed an ID pass at the guard. They parked near a nondescript door that looked like a dozen other nondescript doors. A man with perfect hair strode toward them. He wore a nicely tailored suit and was tapping the screen of his phone and slipping it into his pocket as she and Tim got out of the car.

“Tim. Erin. James Atwater. Thanks for coming.” They all shook hands. “Erin, have you done this type of thing before? For the hospital?”

“No, never. I’m really nervous.”

Atwater smiled as he opened a door for them. He led them through a maze of industrial midnight-blue corridors. “You’re going to be fine. This is nothing more than a conversation. That’s all it is, and I’ll be right there to crack the whip if the media beast starts rattling the cage too much. Just be yourself, you know? Or...” He snapped his fingers. “Who’s your favorite actress?”

She blinked. “I don’t know. Anne Hathaway?”

“Great. Pretend you’re Anne.”

“I don’t have that good of an imagination,” she muttered.

Atwater chuckled as he turned to Tim. “Tim, you know the drill, but I’m going to remind you anyway. You’re sorry that all of this happened, but you saw it as your duty to defend Erin. You were afraid he was going to really hurt her.”

Tim didn’t look happy about being given a script, but he nodded.

“And if they bring up Bottlegate—”

Erin interrupted. “What
is
that? Bottlegate. That guy today mentioned it too, but I have no idea what that is.”

They paused outside glass doors that said Press Room A. One whole side of the room was glass. Erin saw a large backdrop with the Barracuda and NHL logos all over it. Directly before that were two tables that looked exactly like the ones at Q Burger earlier except for the intimidating microphones. Scarier than the microphones were the twenty-odd reporters.

Atwater shook his head. “You know, it’s probably better that she doesn’t know about Bottlegate, that way her viewpoint isn’t biased one way or the other. Yeah. I think that’s the way to go. So, Erin? Just be yourself. Or Anne,” he added with a laugh.

Atwater pushed open the doors.

Lights blazed to life. Cameras zeroed in on them. Adrenaline zinged through Erin as the three of them took their seats at the table, Atwater off to the side. She wished she hadn’t said yes to this. What had she been thinking?

Atwater ran the show. Several hands went up and he acknowledged a television newscaster she recognized, Sam Harris from KSDN TV.