Delayed Penalty: A Pilots Hockey Novel (18 page)

“Which one are you?” I asked.

“Which what am I?”

“You said this is where wives and girlfriends sit, so which one are you?” I winked.

Jason laughed, deep and hearty. “I’m Landon Taylor’s brother.” He pointed to the ice. “Number six. I try to see a game whenever I’m in town.”

“Where do you live?”

“Bridgeland.”

“I go to school there. Central State.”

“No way.”

“Way.” I laughed. Then realized I wasn’t talking to Drew.

“
Wayne’s World
was a little before your time, wasn’t it?” Jason’s eyes scanned my face, as if estimating my age.

“You knew that?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s a classic.”

“Party on, Jason.” I held my fist out.

“Party on, Auden.” He grinned, bumping his knuckles with mine.

The pale blue eyes peeking out from under the faded navy Detroit Tigers baseball cap on his head were kind and familiar. It didn’t feel like I was talking to a stranger, more like hanging out with an old friend. I wasn’t looking to ditch Aleksandr for him, but I’d bet Jason Taylor got his fair share of the ladies.

Not that Aleksandr was mine to ditch. A Christmas gift and a drunken make out wouldn’t mean much to a guy like him. We hadn’t spoken since I’d snuck out of his apartment early the following morning. Waking him up at six-thirty just to say goodbye seemed rude, so I left. No big deal. That’s what I kept telling myself. But I’d probably messed everything up by sneaking out. Stupid, ingrained flight mentality.

“Have you ever been to Johnny’s?” I asked. “I’m a server there.”

“I knew you looked familiar. I thought it was because I saw you send Aleks down in flames when he hit on you in Canada.”

“Someone has to put him in his place.” I laughed. “Ask for me next time you’re there. Coffee’s on Johnny.”

“Coffee’s always on Johnny. I’m a cop. She keeps us awake for free.”

That was true. Johnny always let the cops drink coffee for free. She said it was her civic duty to help them stay focused on protecting and serving the community. I thought it was because she had a thing for guys in uniform.

The Pilots and their opponent, the Providence Bruins, skated into their positions for the opening face-off. Aleksandr was the left wing on the first line. When the referee dropped the puck, I scooted to the edge of my seat and stayed there for the first twelve minutes of the period, watching the furious pace of the game.

“Shit!” I slammed back against my seat when the Bruins scored.

“You’re pretty intense,” Jason said.

I jumped, having forgotten Jason was there. And conversing with me.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I get excited. Edgy,” I said, hoping my cheeks weren’t announcing the wave of embarrassment washing over me.

“No, it’s cool. I can see why Varenkov picked you over any of them.” He nodded to the bunnies. “Plus, you can understand what he says.”

“Well, I doubt he does much talking with bunnies anyway.”

“True.” Jason shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “He usually just ignores them.”

“Don’t most guys, after they’ve slept with someone?” I joked, remembering Drew’s warning that Aleksandr was a dick to bunnies he’d slept with. Was I in for the same treatment? When I glanced over, Jason stared at me like I had snakes wriggling from my head. Guess he didn’t like my grouping “most guys” into the jerk category. “Some guys?”

“Aleksandr doesn’t sleep with bunnies. He doesn’t even talk to them,” Jason said.

“Sure.” I winked conspiratorially. “When we met, he told me he could have a different bunny every night of the week.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, he could. But he doesn’t.”

“He’s a total player,” I argued, sliding to the edge of my seat.

“Who told you that?”

“I, he, I don’t know. I just assumed by what an ass he is and how many sexual comments he makes.”

“You assumed he was a player because he acts like a twenty-one-year-old male.”

I opened my mouth and closed it without speaking because Jason was right. I’d assumed Aleksandr was a player because of his stupid pickup line at the bar and his cockiness. He had the similar arrogant air of the guys I’d been burned by in the past.

“Look, I don’t know Varenkov as well as my brother does, but Landon told me he’s never brought a girl back to their place. Especially not one of them.” He nodded to the bunnies again.

“Oh,” I said, though it came out so soft that Jason may not have heard it. I leaned back into my seat and focused on the action on the ice. Ready to stick with what I know.

How the hell had the hot Russian hockey god never hooked up with a bouncing-breasted bunny?

When the game ended, Jason and I both stood and cheered with the rest of the arena at the final score. Pilots 4, Bruins 3. Aleksandr scored one goal and assisted on two others. My heart filled with pride for him.

I waited to watch Aleksandr skate off the ice with his team before tapping Jason’s shoulder.

“Thanks for the chat,” I told him, as he stuffed his arms into his coat.

“Yeah, you, too. I’m sure I’ll see you at Johnny’s.” Jason winked.

Translating for Aleksandr during interviews after the games was getting easier and easier. Not just because I was getting more comfortable with it, but also because Aleksandr was answering parts of the questions. Though it had been three games since my grandpa had called him out on knowing English, he had taken the reins on speaking to the media himself. I was there as backup when he had to pretend he didn’t understand something they asked or didn’t know the English words to respond.

Obviously, Aleksandr couldn’t go from not speaking any English at all to being fluent. During practice he spoke in broken English and clipped sentences, because he had that skill mastered. Still, learning English was a slow process. I was more than happy to go along with his act, because I had two and a half weeks before I went back to school, and I liked having an excuse to spend time with him.

Just when I started to think that way, my brain reminded me that he hadn’t called since our intimate night together.

I felt like an old cartoon character carrying a fictional little angel and devil on each shoulder. The little white liar, so ecstatic I’d met my match, jingled wedding bells. The red realist reminded me how good an actor Aleksandr was, as demonstrated by his ability to fool the media into thinking he barely knew English. Why did I always think the worst?

As if he’d heard my internal monologue, Aleksandr stood up, reaching over me to grab something off the top shelf of his locker.

“Thank you for being with me on Christmas,” he whispered in my ear, as he retrieved a towel.

Though I tried to contain my outward emotion, my insides were flipping like a gymnast during an uneven-bars routine. He didn’t regret our night together.

“It was my pleasure.” The words slipped out in English, as I was too flustered to come up with a response in Russian. At least I’d remembered to keep my tone professional, though I doubted anyone believed we were talking about the game, with his mouth so close to my ear.

Someone beside me snickered. When I turned to see who it was, Landon’s shoulders shook while he rubbed a towel over his wet blond waves.

Nice word choice, Auden.

Aleksandr leaned into me, ignoring Landon. “Come over tomorrow. I’ll cook you dinner. We’ll watch a movie. I’ll kiss your beautiful lips again.”

“Sure, I can tutor you tomorrow.” I adjusted the strap of my messenger bag on my shoulder. Guys always talk about mentally reciting baseball rosters or picturing their fat aunt Edna to keep from getting too excited. Talking about tutoring was my fat aunt Edna equivalent.

“See you tomorrow.” He skimmed my hip with his fingers as he edged past me to the shower.

I shivered. Of course I shivered, it was cold in the basement dungeon locker room. It had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to hook up again. Or the fact that he remembered it though he’d been drunk. Nothing to do with wanting to feel his lips on every part of my body.

Nope. Nothing to do with any of that.

Chapter 15

“You’re on math duty,” I told Aleksandr as he pulled his Jeep to the curb in front of a small church that housed the after-school program I’d started. It was only ten-thirty a.m., but Detroit’s public schools had a day off for a teacher workday.

“My English isn’t good enough to tutor children?” Aleksandr asked, shifting the Jeep into park and sliding out of his seat.

“It’s not supposed to be,” I reminded him as he opened the door for me. “Numbers are numbers. I’m not good at math.”

“Not good at elementary school math?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a puff of his clove.

“Dude, stomp the cigarette. We’re supposed to be good influences, remember?” I nuzzled my face in his neck, inhaling deeply to get a good whiff of him as he mashed his cigarette into the sidewalk with one of his black-and-white checkered Vans.

One of Aleksandr’s unwritten off-ice duties as a Pilots player was to participate in community-service projects in the area. Since he’d been in Detroit for only two months, he hadn’t found a specific charity he wanted to get behind yet. So I invited him to join me.

“Hey, guys!” I called to the dozen or so kids seated in folding chairs at a long table. My heart melted when their eyes brightened and their lips curled into smiles upon seeing me. All of them started speaking at once; yelling hello, calling my name, talking a mile a minute about whatever it was they had on their mind. It was the best greeting ever, but I put my finger to my lips. “Shh. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Sorry, I got them all riled up, Case.” I pulled Casey Johnson into a hug, before taking a step back. “I brought our first celebrity volunteer. Aleksandr Varenkov, from the Detroit Pilots.”

“First celebrity? What about me?” Casey’s lips spread into a large smile, revealing bright but slightly crooked teeth. Upon first glance, the former Central State football player’s six-foot-five, 245-pound frame and bald head looked intimidating, but his smile was effortless and genuine. Watching him interact with the kids reinforced my decision in recruiting the gentle giant to run the Detroit program while I finished my degree at Central State.

“That’s right. I forgot,” I said, snapping my fingers. Casey just rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for coming, man. It’s great to meet you.” Casey shook Aleksandr’s hand. “I’m sure Auden told you all about the program.”

“No. The only thing she tells me is I cannot teach English to these kids,” Aleksandr said in his fake broken English.

“Well, I guess she has a good point.” Casey laughed, deep and loud. “What we do here is provide year-round, free activities for children who can’t afford to pay for programs in the community. We have volunteers to tutor, to play, or just to talk with them. We try to make the environment fun. We want the kids to enjoy coming here, so they stick with it and don’t turn to the streets. During the school year, it’s homework first, and they know that, so don’t let them sweet-talk you into going into the gym and shooting balls around until they’re finished. Right, Jessie?”

“I’m working, Casey. I’m working.” Jessie, a nine-year-old boy who’d been part of the program since we’d started it, held up a halfway-completed math worksheet as proof.

Casey winked at Aleksandr. “They’re all good kids. Some of them come from messed-up situations. Unfathomable situations. A few of them eat breakfast and dinner here. It’s something we didn’t offer at first until we saw a need for it. There were kids who were eating one meal a day, the lunch they got at school, because their parents aren’t around.”

Aleksandr’s face went from amused interest to concern and sadness within seconds. Though I knew the situations of most of the kids who utilized the club, every time Casey or I told someone new, it upset me all over. I couldn’t imagine not knowing when I would eat next. I couldn’t imagine my grandparents not coming home for days on end. I couldn’t imagine going to school through it, laughing through it, and playing through it.

The kids attending the Central Club amazed me with their resilience and tenacity in the midst of their everyday struggles. It was a good feeling knowing that the club gave them a place they could get help with homework, have fun, and be safe. And, judging by the record number of people who’d signed up to volunteer, these kids finally had people who cared.

Aleksandr and I took seats across from each other, in the middle of the table where the kids were working on homework. Within seconds, we were both bombarded. Aleksandr might have gotten more attention than I did because he was fresh meat. The kids loved to show off for new people. All at once, boys and girls came up to us, shoving drawings, math problems, and stories in front of us.

Sean, one of my favorite little boys, climbed into my lap and put his arms around my neck, giving me a tight squeeze. I smiled and hugged him back.

“I’m glad you’re here, Miss Auden,” he told me. “I missed you a lot.”

Come on, how could anyone not melt from that?

After Aleksandr and I helped with homework, we walked into the gym that was attached to the church. For over an hour, we played every game imaginable, from basketball, dodgeball, and kickball to jump rope and hand-clapping songs. It was past noon when we said our goodbyes to the kids and to Casey.

“How did you get involved in this?” Aleksandr asked. He stopped to light a cigarette before he got into the Jeep.

“I did a study about after-school activities for kids in my community for one of my first classes. The findings gave me the idea to start the Central Club. The attention and positive reinforcement they get here is something some of them may never have at home.”

“Wait. You started this group?” he asked.

I nodded.

“How did you pay for the building and all the equipment?” Aleksandr asked.

“I applied for a grant. I did fundraisers. It was an insane time, especially with soccer and all my other classes,” I said, shaking my head in remembrance of how stressed and stretched I’d been. “But I wouldn’t change a thing. I learned so much, and since I’ve done everything as part of my major, it’s been really beneficial. My advisor said I probably won’t have to take my capstone class next year. All the work I’ve done on this program would take its place.”