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Lynn wasn’t sure how or why, but with the Canyon Cats on the road, the arena had a completely different feel. It was as if the team took all vitality with them, leaving the huge building hollow and lifeless.
During the two-week home stand that had started the Tuesday after Benjamin took Oscar skating, her schedule had been erratic and inconsistent as she’d adjusted her days to accommodate the need to be at the rink during games. Now the team was out of town for a short stint, she should be happy to have a few days of nine to five and the weekend free. Instead, she fidgeted restlessly and found it hard to settle into her usual efficient mode.
It had nothing to do with missing Benjamin. It couldn’t. How could you miss someone you only said hi to when you passed in the hall or waved to from the stands while he guided his young players through drills and exercises?
Though it was a little more than that, if she were honest with herself. They never just said hello. Benjamin always asked about Oscar and she would commiserate or congratulate on the most recent game. And her visits during practices had become less stealthy. Now she took a seat near the glass and while she didn’t intentionally interrupt his concentration on the task at hand, Benjamin never failed to acknowledge her presence with a nod or a smile.
She forced her attention back to the online calendar filling her screen. The Canyon Cats might be taking up the majority of her time these days, but she had other clients to deal with. Like the music promoter bringing two concerts to the arena in the next month, and the comic con organizer who had booked the facility for next spring.
As she plotted and planned, part of her brain remained consumed with the Canyon Cats conundrum. It was ridiculous that Brewster hadn’t yet found a replacement for the marketing coordinator and she had to assume it was part of his strategy to get out of his lease. That assumption made her work harder to bring people into the stands. So far, things had been hovering around the breakeven point. She needed to come up with something big to get more momentum going.
“Lynn?” Cynthie called. “Do you have a minute?”
“Be right there.” Saving a draft of the email she was writing, she grabbed a spiral notebook and pen and headed to Cynthie’s inner office. “What do you need?”
Her boss waved her to a seat. “I wanted to update you on the Canyon Cats marketing coordinator position.”
“Funny you should mention it. I was just wondering about that.”
“I’m sure you can’t wait to pass on those duties and get back to normal.”
“I suppose.” She took the offered chair, oddly disconcerted by Cynthie’s comment. While it would be a relief to have a reprieve from the odd hours and lost weekends working with the Canyon Cats required, she would miss the excitement of game nights. And the excuse to talk with Benjamin. “I’m not sure I want Brewster to have more influence over the marketing than he does now. I suspect he asked us because he thought we’d do a lousy job, if only because we wouldn’t have the time.” She bit the end of her pen thoughtfully. “Do you think he’s stalling in the hopes we’ll get irritated enough to revoke our help?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. When I talked with him today, his excuse was they hadn’t received any acceptable resumes yet.” Her sarcastic tone made it clear what she thought of that excuse.
Lynn snorted in agreement. “The last person was fresh out of college and had no experience at all. What is he waiting for?”
Cynthie smiled with tight lips. “Personally, I think you’re right on the mark, and he’s hoping we drop the ball or give up entirely. I know these additional duties are complicating your life, but I’m glad you agree we shouldn’t be in a hurry to return them to someone on Brewster’s team. Since you don’t work for him, he can’t exactly badger you into weaker promotions or cutting back on fan contests. Anyone he hires will be limited by what he allows them to do.”
“He’s not making things easy.” She frowned, recalling the roadblocks he’d placed in her path. “I’ve been trying to arrange community appearances for the players and coaches, and he’s put his foot down on most of them, saying it would be disruptive to the team.”
“A team needs to be connected to the community and its fanbase. What have you pitched him?”
“I wanted to duplicate a few things from last year, like a celebrity chili cook off and a charity dunk tank.”
“What we need are events that would make the team look bad if they didn’t attend. Hospital visits to sick kids, appearances at long-term care homes, that sort of thing.”
Lynn nodded. “I like it. When I present to him, I can hint at the negative publicity should he reject the ideas. He may not want too many people in the stands, but he certainly doesn’t want a grassroots revolt that would make the team unwelcome in another city.”
“Exactly.” Cynthie rubbed her palms together as if readying for battle. “Let’s get Sarah in here and see what else we can come up with. Brewster won’t know what hit him.”
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IT WASN’T UNCOMMON for an owner to attend his team’s away games. After all, most of them were well-heeled and had the money necessary to travel when and where they wanted. But Benjamin was still surprised to see Peterson Brewster striding down the hotel hallway just as the team was boarding the bus on their way to their opponent’s arena for the last game of the road trip.
Brewster didn’t have to clear his schedule with Benjamin, of course, and the owner’s presence wouldn’t influence his actions or decisions in any way. But a little warning would have been nice.
“Benny, I’m glad I caught you.” Brewster slapped him on the shoulder in his usual bluff and hearty manner. “Where’s Simpson?”
“In his seat.” It was one of the reasons Benjamin liked the young man. He was usually the first on the bus and the last off the ice, and his work ethic and leadership made him valuable for more than his goal-scoring ability. He and Benjamin had developed a strong connection that was going to be the bedrock of the team’s success.
“I need to talk with him. Go get him, will you?”
A stone formed in Benjamin’s gut. “Why?” The single word echoed eerily in his head.
Brewster’s jovial expression hardened and the wily businessman masked behind the good old boy stared out. “Just get him.”
Heart thumping, stomach roiling, Benjamin followed Levi Ghostkeeper up the stairs of the rumbling motorcoach. Young men in suits and ties filled the rows. Simpson sat in his usual place, about midway down the bus. “Garret? Can I see you for a minute?”
“Sure, Coach.” The lanky youth strode down the narrow aisle. His draft year was coming up, and barring disasters it was expected he’d go fairly high. Maybe not first round, but second was a definite possibility. That would make him the highest drafted Canyon Cat in several years.
“What do you need him for?” Levi moved into his seat to allow Simpson by. His tone skirted the edge of disrespect, as it usually did. Despite—or maybe because of—the fact the team had bettered their record from this time last year, he still hadn’t warmed up to Benjamin.
Hoping against hope he was reading Brewster’s request wrong, Benjamin shrugged a wordless response and led Simpson to where the owner waited. Dread dogged his heels at every step.
Brewster wasted no time. “Simpson, I have good news. You’ve been traded to the Red Devils.”
The cloud of apprehension hovering above Benjamin’s head thundered down. The worst of his suspicions had been confirmed.
“What?” The teenager looked as stunned as Benjamin felt.
“Pack your bags. You’re now a member of the number one team in the league. Congratulations.” Brewster beamed, apparently oblivious to the devastation he was wreaking.
Benjamin couldn’t believe he was losing his best player. Couldn’t believe an owner would make a decision so disastrous to his own team. Couldn’t believe he, as head coach, hadn’t been given any warning.
Couldn’t say a word, as he watched Brewster guide Simpson away, while the future he’d been sweating over crashed down around him.
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LYNN TAPPED HER WAY to the radio app on her phone and placed it on the low coffee table in front of her. Few regular season junior hockey games were broadcast on television, but every team had arrangements with local radio stations, and she’d fallen into the habit of listening to the Canyon Cats, especially when they were out of town. Oscar had been fussy tonight, taking longer to get to sleep than usual, so she was tuning in several minutes past the start of the game.
Stephanie came into the living room, a glass of wine in each hand. Even in the security and comfort of their shared house, Lynn rarely saw her with an unmade face or messy hair or in grubby clothing. Her concession to an in-home Friday evening was to wear silky suit-style pajamas, clear lip gloss and only a single swipe of mascara.
“How are they doing?” She handed Lynn a glass, sat in the plushly upholstered chair set at angles to the couch, and picked up the magazine she’d been reading.
“Down two goals already, with more than half the first period to go.” Lynn sipped her drink and frowned. “The announcer mentioned something unexpected happened before the game started, but I don’t know what he was talking about.” She put down her glass and picked up her crochet project. She’d recently started doing needlework again, as it gave her something to do as she listened.
The period wound down and nothing more was said about the pre-game incident, but she realized she hadn’t heard Garrett Simpson’s name in the play-by-play. “I think something happened to their top player. I hope he didn’t get injured.” She looped the yarn over the hook and stabbed it into the stitches with nervous fingers, anxious for Benjamin’s sake.
The buzzer sounded and the announcer did his recap. “At the end of the first frame, it’s the Rapids three, the Canyon Cats zero. Obviously learning that Garrett Simpson had been traded just hours before the game has caused some chaos in the Cats’ lineup. We’ll take a closer look at the situation during the intermission. Stick around.”
Her jaw dropped. “They traded Simpson? Why on earth—” Her teeth clacked together as understanding flooded through her. “That son of a bitch.”
Stephanie’s neatly plucked eyebrows rose and she waggled her wineglass in a questioning gesture. “Who’s a son of a bitch?”
“Peterson Brewster.” Lynn tossed her work to the side, sprang to her feet, and prowled the room, too agitated to concentrate.
“Why? Isn’t he allowed to make trades?”
“Usually it’s up to the general manager, but Brewster’s a hands-on owner. His GM does what he’s told without question.” She couldn’t imagine what Benjamin was feeling right now. He’d pinned his hopes on Simpson, built plays around him, worked one on one with him. All that effort, wasted.
All because Brewster was willing to sabotage his own team in order to get out of his contract.
“Doesn’t this sort of thing happen all the time?” Stephanie flipped a page of her magazine, unperturbed. Lynn wished she could view the situation with the same equanimity.
“Not like this it doesn’t.” She was this close to blurting out what Brewster was really up to and ground her teeth together to keep the words bottled up inside. Not that she didn’t trust Stephanie—Lynn knew she had kept more difficult secrets. But if she was going to break her promise to Cynthie it was going to be to the person most affected, no one else.
Benjamin.