Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I take out my new blue suit, white button-down shirt, and a royal blue tie. I place a white handkerchief in the pocket, grab my brown shoes, and take a final look in the mirror. Not too shabby for someone over thirty. I make my way over to the arena, calling Denise from the car.
“Where are you?” I ask when I hear a shit-ton of noise in the background.
“We just got to the arena. Max, this place is awesome. Holy shit,” she says while I hear kids in the background asking her questions. “Text me when you get here so you can come meet the kids.”
“Okay.” I hang up. Usually we don’t go out front the day of the game, but this year we have been encouraged to be with the fans. I park my car underground and walk in. The camera crews are already here filming, but I have my Ray-Bans on so they can’t see my eyes. I walk in, saying hi to a couple of people while I text Denise and she tells me she’s at the fake locker room. I make my way to the main level and I’m blown away by the amount of people there so early before the game. It’s only three p.m. and it’s already half full. I walk through the arena, shaking hands with some fans and posing for selfies.
There are different stations set up all along the way. There is a kiosk with a big sign that says Which Stinger Player Are You? People are in there answering questions before it tells you who you are more like.
I walk more and see a shooting station. Luka is between the pipes as you try and score on him. The kids are all lining up, bouncing to get their shot. When one of them actually scores, there is a huge light on top, flashing red, and the horn blazing.
I take in Ryder and the other rookie Paul as they sign things and pose for pictures. I see Matthew there with his family and his stepfather, Cooper Stone, who is holding his namesake in his arms.
I walk by the DJ station and see that it is none other than Missy Elliott spinning some tunes. While people stop and take a picture of her wearing Matthew’s jersey.
I finally see Denise and her kids when I turn the corner. They are standing in a fake dressing room, each kid posing for pictures in their favorite player’s stall. Twenty of them all gang up together in my stall with Denise on one side and Allison on the other. I take her in and she looks like she just walked off the catwalk. What the fuck is she wearing? It’s a one-piece pantsuit thing, with silver heels. Who comes to a hockey game with heels? I don’t have much to think about before Denise spots me and yells my name, “Maxie.” She waves her hand in the air and Allison’s face goes from smiling to horror. She is holding on to two kids’ hands as they all walk toward me.
“This is so amazing. The kids are having a blast,” she says, making sure she has everyone with her.
“Hey, guys,” I say, crouching down in front of them. “Are you ready for the big game?”
They all answer at the same time, then they shout out questions and jump up and down when the Stinger mascot walks by, so they run to him and the team photographers start with the pictures.
“They look like they are in good spirits,” I say, standing here in the middle of Denise and Allison, who watch the kids with the mascot.
“It’s been amazing and Allison has been nothing but amazing. She promised the kids they could go backstage right before you guys go on the ice.”
I swallow the lump that is in my throat.
“Is that so?” I ask, putting my hands in my pockets.
“Yes,” she says curtly, “it is. Denise, it was amazing meeting you.” She turns to my sister. “And you can bet I’ll be touching base with you next week with ideas.” She smiles at my sister. “I’ll have Jason find you guys right before and bring you down to the locker room.” I watch her walk away, then turn to my sister, who is glaring at me.
“What did you do? Did you sleep with her and not call her?” She folds her hands in front of her.
“Are you fucking crazy? That is Matthew Grant’s sister.” I don’t have to go on when Denise just mouths an O. “Yeah, so that is why she’s like she is.”
“Well, she was nice to me and so genuine. So…” She looks over at her kids. “She wants to work with me and the hospital.” She smiles at the kids and turns her glare back at me. “Don’t fuck this up. Be nice.”