True Love and Other Disasters

Chapter 10

Monday afternoon, as Faith sat in a meeting with the coach, Darby Hogue, and the scouts from the player development department, her nerves twisted her stomach into knots. A television was set up and they watched clip after clip of free agents and minor-league prospects. Even though all trades and acquisitions were put on hold until the end of the season, the player development department still worked at finding new talent, and Jules had thought it important that she attend the meeting. While the men in the room discussed the prospect on the screen, she felt as nervous as a sinner in church, wondering if Ty would breeze through the door, looking hot and cool at the same time. She wondered if any of the men in the room knew that she’d assaulted the captain of the hockey team with her lips. She was fairly certain Ty wasn’t the kind of man to kiss and tell. That he wouldn’t want something like that to get around either, but she didn’t know well enough to be certain he wouldn’t talk about her with one of the guys. Who might in turn tell other people.

Yes, he’d kissed her first, but she was the one who’d grabbed ahold with both hands and hadn’t wanted it to end. Not like that. Not until they were both naked.

“Can I get you anything, Mrs. Duffy?” the coach’s assistant asked as he popped in another tape.

A Xanax. She smiled and shook her head. “No. Thank you.” Her hands lay loosely in her lap, appearing relaxed and composed as her nerves pinged through her veins and zapped her every time someone walked past Coach Nystrom’s door, but Ty never showed and no one mentioned the unfortunate episode in San Jose.

That night, the Chinooks won their second of three against the Sharks. Faith chose to attend a benefit instead and skipped the game. She and Virgil had bought tickets to the thousand-dollar-a-plate event the previous summer. She decided to go by herself and participate in the silent auction to raise money for Doctors Without Borders.

She dressed in her black Donna Karan sheath and hung a string of opera-length pearls around her neck. When she walked into the ballroom at the Four Seasons, she spotted several women she knew from the Gloria Thornwell Society. They turned their faces as if they didn’t know her. The glittering chandeliers shined down on the Seattle elite as she grabbed a glass of Moët from a passing tray. Toward the front of the room, Landon and his wife stood in a circle of Virgil’s close friends congratulating each other for one sort of acquisition or another. She raised the champagne to her lips and her gaze slid to the members of the Seattle Symphony, playing on a raised dais. She knew a lot of these people. Now, as she moved to the table displaying the silent auction items, she caught the gazes of the few trophy wives she’d associated with for five years. In their eyes she saw pity and fear as they turned away, afraid to make eye contact with their fate.

“Hello, Faith.”

She looked across her shoulder at the wife of Bruce Parsons, Jennifer Parsons, a trophy wife only slightly older than herself.

“Hi, Jennifer. You braved the crowd, I see.”

Jennifer smiled tightly. “How are you doing?”

“A little better. I still miss Virgil.”

They talked for a few short minutes, and in the end promised phone calls that would never be placed and lunch that would never happen.

When the dinner bell rang, she found herself at a table with Virgil’s empty seat beside her. Sadness at his absence settled next to her heart. He’d been a strong stabilizing influence in her life and she missed him. Now that he was gone, she had to be strong by herself.

Across the table, Landon and his wife, Ester, ignored her completely while silently transmitting their contempt in venomous waves. If Virgil were alive, he’d have expected her to paste a smile on her face and force them all to be civil. But frankly, she was tired of forcing polite behavior from Landon and Ester when they were in polite society. To some of the people in the room, she would always be a woman who took her clothes off for money. But there’d been some freedom in that life which had nothing to do with being naked and everything to do with not caring what people thought. There were only a few rungs lower on the social scale than a stripper.

While she ate a five-course meal that started with a braised short rib and red cabbage salad, she made small talk with those around her. By the time the fourth course was cleared from the table, she realized that she really just didn’t care anymore. Not about Landon and his wife, and not about people who would never accept her now that Virgil was gone. Since the funeral, her life had been different. In just one short month, it had drastically changed.

“I heard the Chinooks are still in the playoffs,” one of Virgil’s business associates commented from Faith’s left side. She leaned slightly forward and looked into Jerome Robinson’s kind brown eyes. “How’s the team looking?” he asked.

“We’re looking good,” she answered, as a panna cotta with fresh berries was set on the table before her. “Of course there was a huge concern once we lost Bressler, but Savage has stepped in and done a great job of keeping the team focused. Our goal was to give the players a few games before the playoffs to find their legs and adjust before we started shuffling the deck, but they’ve adjusted so well, there hasn’t been much shuffling.” Or so Coach Nystrom had said yesterday. She shrugged and lifted her dessert spoon. “Our front line has a combined twenty-three goals and eighty-nine points so far in the playoffs. I think we have a really good shot at the cup this year.” That, she’d figured out on her own.

Jerome smiled. “Virgil would be proud of you.”

She liked to think so. But more important, for the first time in her life she was proud of herself.

“My father was a senile old man,” Landon said from across the table.

“Your father was many things.” Jerome turned to Landon. “Senile was never one of them.”

Faith smiled and took a drink of her dessert wine. Once the dishes were cleared, she stayed just long enough to make a few silent bids. As she stood at the coat check, she realized that in the short month since Virgil’s death, she’d become more comfortable sitting in an Irish pub with a bunch of hockey players than with the people she’d associated with for the past five years. It wasn’t that all the Seattle elite were supercilious snobs. They weren’t. A lot of them were like Jerome. Nice people who just happened to have more money than God. It was more like Faith was different now; she was becoming someone else. Someone she didn’t know. She wasn’t a stripper or Playmate or a rich man’s wife anymore. The weirdest part about it was that even though she didn’t know the new Faith yet, she liked her.

By the time she got home, Valerie had returned from the hockey game, where she and Pavel had used the box to watch the Chinooks dominate in a 2-0 victory over the Sharks. Wednesday night’s game would be in San Jose, and if the Chinooks won, they would advance to the next round. If not, it was back to Seattle for Game Six.

“Pavel wanted me to thank you for the use of your skybox.”

“When you see him again, tell him he’s welcome,” Faith said and headed to her room. She went straight to bed feeling oddly at peace with her life. She slept like a log until around one, when Pebbles jumped on her bed and curled up against her stomach.

“What are you doing?” she asked the dog, her voice a bit sleep-drugged. “Get out.” Through the darkness Pebbles’s beady eyes looked up at her as a deep moan filtered into the room. Faith recognized that moan and the next one too. Obviously, Valerie and Pavel hadn’t found a hotel.

The next morning Pavel was gone, and Valerie acted as if he’d never been there. When Faith confronted her mother, Valerie promised to “be more quiet.”

“I thought you said something about going to a hotel,” she reminded her mother.

“Every night? That could get expensive.”

Every night? “You could go to his house.”

Valerie shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s living with Ty. Maybe when Ty’s on the road. I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow.” She pulled off her chunky bracelets. “You don’t mind if he comes over Wednesday night and watches the game here with us, do you? I hate to think of him all alone with nothing but his big-screen TV.”

She wondered why her mother couldn’t go there. “I don’t really mind. Just as long as you didn’t make out like teenagers and plug in ‘Sexual Healing.’”

Valerie waved away her concern. “Pavel gets too engrossed in the game and can’t manage to pull himself away,” she said.

But the very next night, the two headed to Valerie’s bedroom during the first intermission.

“What are they doing?” Jules asked as he walked into the kitchen and reached for a section of the three foot-long sandwiches Faith had picked up at a local deli.

There was a large thump on the wall followed by deep laughter and a little giggle. “You don’t want to know.” Faith shook her head and bit into a deli pickle. “My mother and I have adopted the ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.” She took a sip of her margarita and moved back into the living room. “At least I’m trying to make her follow it.” Pebbles lay in Faith’s spot on the couch with her feet sticking straight up in the air. “But like her dog, she doesn’t follow commands very well.”

Jules sat beside Pebbles and scratched the dog’s belly with his free hand. “You missed a good game the other night.”

She sat on the arm of the couch and looked across her shoulder into his green eyes. “I was at a benefit.” She thought of Landon and frowned. “Unfortunately, I won’t be going to many charity events. Landon and his friends have made me persona non grata.”

“If you want to participate in a charity event,” Jules said between bites of his sandwich, “you should play in the Chinooks Foundation charity golf game this summer.”

“I’ve never heard of the Chinooks Foundation.”

“They have a charity golf game every year. I know they’d welcome you and it would be fun.”

Big boobs and golf didn’t go together. “No thanks. I’m better at chairing events and writing checks.”

“I know the foundation does other things to raise money too. I’ll look into it if you want me to.”

She might actually really like that. At least it was something she knew about. “Okay.”

“Has Darby talked to you?”

“No.” Faith glanced at the television and the remaining few minutes of the second intermission. After the first two periods of the game, the Chinooks were ahead by one goal, but they had the third period to go, and anything could happen. “Why?” she asked.

“He wants you to do an interview with a local reporter, Jane Martineau,” he said.

Faith had heard of Jane. Had read her columns in the Life section of the Post Intelligencer. “Doesn’t she write about life in Seattle?”

“Yeah, but she used to be a sports reporter for the Seattle Times. That’s how she met her husband, Luc Martineau. I don’t know if you remember, but Luc was the Chinooks goalie until he retired a few years ago.”

Faith only had one question. “When?”

“As soon as Darby can set it up. Probably sometime next week to coincide with the new billboards of you and Ty.”

“Which photo is going to be used?”

“I’m not sure, but we’ll find out at tomorrow’s PR meeting.”

Pavel and Valerie walked back into the room, and to fill the awkward silence, Jules asked, “What do you think of Dominik Pisani?”

“Pittsburgh defenseman? He’s fast and can feed the puck.” Pavel and Valerie sat in the love seat and Pavel laid his hand across the back of the small sofa and stroked Valerie’s hair. “Why do you ask?”

“If we play Pittsburgh in the final round, he’s going to go hard after our offense.”

“True. How do you feel, Faith?” he asked as he looked at her through blue eyes so much like Ty’s.

“About Pisani?”

Pavel shook his head. “The last time I saw you, you had just returned home early from San Jose because you weren’t feeling well.”

Oh yeah. The day she’d seen him naked. The morning after she’d made out with his son at the Marriott. “I’m better. Thank you.”

“Who Let the Dogs Out” blasted from the sound system on the jumbo tran, and Faith turned her attention to the players lumbering out from the tunnel. Their awkward gaits became smooth and gracefully athletic the second their skates hit the ice.

Ty was one of the last players to step onto the ice. This was the first time she’d seen him since he’d kissed her, and she felt a strange little pinch in her chest and a restless tumble in her stomach. On the sports screen, the camera zoomed in on Ty as he and the Sharks captain faced off at center ice.

The two men glared at each other from beneath their helmets and got into position with their sticks across knees. Their mouths moved as they spoke to each other. Each smiled and nodded, but somehow Faith doubted they were discussing the weather.

She raised her glass to her lips. “What do you think they’re saying?”

“Just exchanging pleasantries,” Pavel answered, and Jules laughed.

“What’s the matter?” Ty asked the Sharks captain as he stared into his eyes. “Got period cramps?”

The other man laughed. “Shut up and eat me, Savage.”

“Funny. That’s exactly what your sister said the last time I saw her.”

The ref skated to the circle and Ty turned his attention to the puck the man held in his hand.

“I hear your new owner has turned you all into pussies,” the other captain taunted.

Now it was Ty’s turn to laugh as the ref dropped the puck. The two captains battled for it and the third frame started with a sprint to the Sharks goal.

Ty played a three-minute shift before he skated to the bench and grabbed his water bottle, and his gaze lifted to the owner boxes inside the HP Pavilion. Faith hadn’t traveled with them. Thank God.

He wiped off his face with a towel, then hung it around his neck. It had been four days since he’d kissed Faith and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop remembering every detail. He remembered the pressure of her soft lips and the taste of her in his mouth. She’d tasted good, like beer and hot passion and sweet sex. He’d pulled her body against his, pressed her breasts into his chest, and about lost his damn mind. She must have lost hers, too, because she hadn’t exactly protested. She’d kissed his neck and asked him to touch her all over, and God, he’d wanted to. Everything inside him had urged him to take that card key from her hand and push her inside her room. To shove her onto her bed and bury his face in her cleavage. “I want to lick your tattoo,” she’d whispered, all hot and sexy, and damn if he hadn’t wanted to let her run her warm mouth across his skin.

She was beautiful and he’d wanted her. He was honest with himself enough to admit that he still wanted her, and walking away had been one of the toughest things he’d ever done.

A whistle blew and Ty turned his attention to the game and the icing call. He took his captaincy of the Chinooks seriously. The twenty-four guys on the team looked to him. He was an example and a leader, both on and off the ice, and he didn’t even want to think of the guys’ reaction if they ever found out that Faith had given him that sucker bite on his neck. He hadn’t even known it was there until Sam had pointed it out during practice Sunday morning. He’d made up some bullshit lie about hooking up with a waitress in San Jose, for the love of Christ. Not that that had never happened before, just not when he’d been captain and had just lectured the guys about hooking up.

Walker Brookes skated to the face-off circle in the Chinooks defensive zone and waited for the puck to drop.

The guys had harassed him about getting drunk and picking up a waitress, but they’d believed him. Of course they’d believed him. It never would have even occurred to any of them to suspect the owner of the team had put her hot mouth on his throat and left a mark. He was still having a hard time believing it himself.

Kissing the owner of the team could seriously impact his chances of winning the Stanley Cup, and he still couldn’t believe he’d been such a colossal dumb-ass over a woman. Especially over that woman. No matter how much he wanted to kiss her and touch her and let her kiss him.

The puck dropped and Walker fought it out until the puck shot behind him and into the waiting blade of the Sharks’ offense. San Jose moved the puck across ice, and Coach Nystrom signaled for Ty to change up on the fly. He stuck his rubber guard into his mouth and shoved his hands into his gloves.

Pavel Savage had been notorious for thinking with his dick and making mistakes. He’d ruined families and his chance to put his name on the cup.

Ty grabbed his stick and hopped over the boards. He kept his head up and skated to center ice as Walker took the bench. Ty was not his father. Kissing Mrs. Duffy had been a big fuckup, but a fuckup that would not happen again.

Nothing was going to come between him and his run at the cup. Not the other teams competing for the same prize. Not a defense that needed a little more size and speed, and especially not a former Playmate with big breasts and soft lips.