Slap Shot
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Slap Shot
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Rhonda Laurel
Etopia Press
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed
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Published By
Etopia Press
1643 Warwick Ave., #124
Warwick, RI 02889
Slap Shot
Copyright © 2016 by Rhonda Laurel
ISBN: 978-1-944138-41-7
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this
book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: March 2016
DEDICATION
To Derek and Charisma, thanks for making forgiveness and love possible.
CHAPTER ONE
Derek Popovich threw the towel over his shoulder and headed for his locker. It had been a brutal game today, but despite their best efforts, the Philadelphia Pirates wouldn’t be advancing in the playoffs. Injuries and scattered coaching strategies had plagued his team all season. Playing hard had taken a toll on his body. Being the
goalie was a very demanding job, as every muscle in his body could attest. And he knew just the trick to ease his aching muscles after a grueling loss. The soft, talented hands of a nubile woman. Too bad he’d just ended things with his latest fling, Phoebe.
According to the gossip rags, he and Phoebe were hot and heavy and ready to make a serious commitment to each other. But the whirlwind
romance she’d been alluding to in interviews for months wasn’t even close to the truth. They’d met at a party at a friend’s house in Los Feliz and hooked up in the bathroom that night. He’d had a good time but hadn’t given the encounter a second thought until she began calling him relentlessly looking to get together again. They’d had a few more sporadic dalliances that he’d managed to keep out
of the public eye until his luck ran out when the paparazzi snapped pictures of them exiting a club in L.A. He’d been chained to Phoebe in the media ever since, and the whole situation had taken on a life of its own. The world thought he was on the verge of settling down. He suspected Phoebe tying herself to him was a strategic PR stunt to help catapult her career. Daniel, his publicist, advised
that he let the relationship fade away naturally. After all, the idea that the bad boy hockey player could occasionally commit was good for his image.
The worst part was explaining to his family that none of these claims were true. There had been a number of salacious stories about him over the years. He was lauded for one-night stands and wild sexcapades. The downside to his sexual infamy
was when his exploits did make the media, he had a lot of explaining to do to the women in his life. But none were as embarrassing as the story about his junk.
He’d gotten the talking-to of a lifetime from his mother, who’d scolded him while slipping between English and Russian, when an online tabloid posted an article claiming he was very well-endowed. His babushka, Annika, was upset because
she read a translated version of it and thought they meant he had a deformed penis and it was affecting his hockey playing. He’d called his grandmother and fumbled in Russian, trying to set the record straight. His brothers Alex and Theo had a good time ribbing him about that one.
Maybe it was time to curb some of that behavior. He was living a fun life, but every now and again a pang would
hit him when he thought of what he was missing by not having someone special. Settling down had worked for his friend Seth when he found his wife, Morgan. His friend’s relationship gave him hope he could one day be that happy too with the right person. A comment from a teammate brought him out of his daydream.
“Derek, you still coming to my party next week?” his friend and teammate Ivan
Krakowski yelled from across the room.
Derek grinned. “Not this time. I’m going to Portland to visit my brother and his kids. But let’s play a round of golf and grab lunch when I get back into town.”
“It’s a deal.”
He was no fool. Ivan’s parties were legendary. The team celebrated the end of the season the only way they knew how: with rowdy fun that always led to the cops being
called. He’d timed his visit to his brother to have a good excuse not to attend.
He’d known Ivan for a long time and valued their friendship. The life of a professional athlete was wrought with fake friends and big egos, and he’d been blessed to meet a few people who were genuine, like Ivan and Seth. Seth was down-to-earth and partied just as hard as he did—or at least he had until he’d
traded those wild days for married life.
He finished dressing and checked out his image in the mirror. During the off-season, he’d planned on visiting his family, who were scattered about the world, but he would be spending the bulk of his time at his bar, the Slap Shot. It was a home away from home for his athlete friends, a place to unwind, leave their egos at the door, and enjoy a good
meal. Bravado and grandstanding weren’t allowed and it made for a better atmosphere. But lately business had been sluggish, and he wanted to breathe some new life into the place. He’d done an overhaul on the menu and had considered bringing in a live band.
In reality, a full-scale renovation was what the place really needed after Seth’s epic fight with his teammate Lamont at Seth’s retirement
party. Years of pent-up anger and jealousy had resulted in broken furniture, fixtures, and a couple of holes in the walls. Sure, Lamont deserved the comeuppance, but all that damage still cost money and downtime for the restaurant.
Derek waved good-bye to a few more teammates and exited the locker room. He took the escalator by the equipment room in an effort to avoid the reporters lurking
around on the main floor. The post-game press conference had already been held, but there were always a few hanging back hoping to get more in-depth sound bites. It was part of his job to engage with reporters, but it wasn’t always possible to give a succinct two-sentence answer to sum up the culmination of several weeks of playing.
Besides, he was tired.
The side door was a safe bet.
Players rarely used it, and he’d escaped through it on several occasions in the past. He stuck his head out; there was no one in sight. As soon as the door closed behind him, a mob of reporters turned the corner and started firing off questions. The door didn’t have a handle, so there was no way to get back inside. And to his surprise, they were all asking about his love life.
“Derek!” A
brunette-haired woman thrust a microphone into his face. “Is it true you and Phoebe Palentz are over?”
“Did your tough season bring tension in the relationship?”
“Rumor has it she caught you cheating. Who is this new mystery woman?”
“Is it true you’ve already moved on?”
“No comment.” He slid on his sunglasses to shield his eyes from the blinding camera lights.
Still
in hockey mode, he seriously considered body checking the reporters to make a path to the parking lot. Thankfully, stadium security came rushing over and put some distance between him and the crowd, allowing him to bolt to his car. He slid behind the wheel of his cobalt blue Aston Martin Rapide S and peeled out, looking forward to some down time. But he wasn’t going to get any peace and quiet until
the rumor mill tired of his fake relationship with Phoebe.
* * *
Charisma Reed fished in her rose-colored Hermes Birkin bag for the keys to the office door. Morning was always so quiet inside the elegant office building that housed her cousin Jared’s architectural firm. She was never one for being an early riser, but she liked getting to the office before the rest of
the staff to set up things for the day. She’d been working here for five months now and she had to admit she liked it. Reed Designs was a bustling world filled with creativity and high-concept ideas. It was about building things and creating new foundations. Something she was trying to do herself. Jared had given her a chance when her world was falling apart, and she was grateful to him for that.
It hadn’t been easy figuring out her next move after the hellish year she’d had, but it had been her family who’d stepped in and offered their support. She was beginning to feel like she belonged again, and it felt good.
She took the blame for the series of bad choices that led her to Lamont Brayer, her now ex-boyfriend. She’d been determined to land herself a rich athlete like her cousin
Morgan, who’d married Seth Blake, quarterback for the Philadelphia Titans. But what she got instead was a tumultuous relationship with the team’s flamboyant wide receiver. Lamont was the antithesis of Seth. He was egotistical, manic, and craved the limelight and glory that came with a winning team like a plant needed sun. Too bad he didn’t handle it well. In the beginning, she found those volatile
qualities intoxicating. Who wouldn’t want to be the wife of a famous football player? But as time wore on, she began to see his true colors. He was controlling and aggressive and he treated her badly in private. Then it spilled over into their public lives as well. Fights at nightclubs, restaurants, and parties became the norm and made great tabloid fodder.
He’d mistreated her countless
times, but she hung in there hoping he would eventually tire of it and settle down. She didn’t know if she were stubborn or determined, but she stayed with him longer than any woman should have. But the fight with Seth at the Slap Shot the night of Seth’s retirement party was the final straw. He’d hurt and humiliated her for the last time. It took Seth pummeling Lamont to make her realize that she
deserved a better life than what she had. She broke up with him and filed a restraining order. He’d tried to win her back with a lame marriage proposal, but she’d refused his apologies. His image had taken a severe beating after the incident at the Slap Shot, and he’d even come under scrutiny with the team and the media about his domestic violence issues.
She opened the office door and punched
in the alarm code. Craving her morning pick- me-up, she made her way into the kitchen and dropped a mocha latte pod into the fancy coffee brewer and within a matter of minutes it was ready. Cup in hand, she grabbed her purse and turned too quickly, almost getting coffee on her handbag. She let out a sigh of relief; the droplets had spilled onto the floor and narrowly missed the purse.
It
was one of the few remnants she had left of her luxurious life with Lamont. Sure it was more of a status symbol. She liked that look of envy she got when women noticed her bag. It was lovely, but in hindsight still not worth all the angst she went through with him.
Jared walked into the break room. “Good morning, Charisma. Early as usual.”
“Good morning, Jared. I wasn’t expecting you
so soon. I thought you’d be at home cuddling with Autumn.”
“She kicked me out.” He laughed and turned on the espresso machine. “She’s having lunch with Sydney and Grandma this afternoon. She’s nervous and wanted some time to prep.”
“Did you tell her we have the sweetest grandmother in the world? Grandma’s going to eat her up with a spoon.” She set her cup down and wiped up the latte
droplets with a paper towel.
“I did. How is Grandma doing?”
“Fine and feisty as ever,” she replied with a smile.
Once Lamont had finally got it through his thick head that she wasn’t coming back, he demanded she vacate his condo she’d been living in and return all the expensive trinkets he’d bought her. She was left with only her matador red mica Lexus LS, which she’d purchased
herself. Suddenly homeless, she’d been relieved when her grandmother had invited her to come live with her.
The Reed homestead had always been a safe haven for her. She shuddered at the thought of living with her parents again. Her mother, Debra, had always had grand plans for her daughter and had been a consummate stage mother all her life. The molding started early. She was always pushing
Charisma into activities like acting, gymnastics, dance, and singing. Any activity that could yield a multimillion-dollar career someday. When Debra finally conceded that her daughter wasn’t talented enough to pursue those potentially high-profile careers, she’d encouraged her to use her physical attributes to land an athlete.
Charisma had concealed a lot of Lamont’s bad behavior partly
because she knew how much her mother wanted a rich, celebrity son-in-law like Seth Blake. Debra had been unrelenting about Lamont being a great guy until Aunt Sydney intervened and finally opened her eyes to what was really going on with her daughter’s relationship. But what saddened Charisma the most was that she really just wanted her mom to be on her side for once.
It was times like this
she missed having her brother Trevor around. She blamed his frequent absence on the nature of his job. The photojournalist traveled extensively, covering the beauty and atrocities happening all over the globe. It was always hard to keep up with his whereabouts. He’d e-mail to check in on her, but she never had the heart to tell him about her antics. Trevor was the one person in her life who’d
always been in her corner because he understood the tyranny of their mother Debra. She had tried to mold her son the same way she’d tried to mold Charisma, but Trevor had rebelled. Debra had her heart set on a doctor son, not a photographic correspondent putting himself in danger for the sake of a snapshot. The disagreement over his choice of major in college created a big divide in their family,
and by the time he’d graduated, too many things had been said. Trevor hadn’t been home in years.
Jared interrupted her train of thought. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”
“I have you slotted for a block of design time in the morning, so you won’t be getting any calls unless they’re urgent. And I made sure there were no late afternoon conferences so you can get home at a decent hour.”
“Nice. I may get to design a building today,” he said.
“That’s the plan.”
“Autumn is cooking a Moroccan dish tonight. Care to join us?”
Charisma smiled at the look of love on her cousin’s face. “Thanks, but I don’t want to infringe on your last night together before she heads back to Texas.”
“Good point. But I’ll bring in leftovers.” He sipped his espresso. “I reviewed
your notes on the Slap Shot and they’re great. It’s always a good idea to do periodic wellness checkups with the project manager. You asked Ian all the right questions, and he thinks you’re great. He’s keeping to the schedule. I think you’re really getting the hang of things, and we’re ready to talk interior design with the client. Think you’re up to a face-to-face with Derek?”
A lump rose
in Charisma’s throat. She’d been trying to avoid meeting Derek since this project began and with his hockey schedule, it had been a non-issue. Until now. She knew it was foolish, but she felt responsible for the remodeling. If Seth hadn’t had to defend her that night, the fight wouldn’t have occurred.
