Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
And people always say you shouldn’t meet your heroes.
Right now, it sounds like good advice.
Chapter
Five
GRAMMERCY
Walking into the courtyard of Maison Monteleone feels like stepping onto the set of one of those HBO dramas where everyone’s rich and plotting each other’s downfall over champagne.
But in this case, they’re plotting how they can be a part of the Voodoo’s inaugural season.
They’re here because of my team, because of me…
Even with a big brother who made his NHL dreams come true long before I did, and coming off a Stanley Cup-winning season of my own, it still feels surreal. Three years ago, I was eating ramen for dinner and wondering if I’d ever make it out of the AHL. Now I’m at a hotel I would have been kicked out of as a kid, primed to charm the pants off potential sponsors while wearing a suit that costs more than my new mortgage.
On a penthouse apartment.
That’s also mine.
Sometimes even our wildest dreams come true. I’m living proof.
I scan the crowd, seeing who beat Parker and me to the party. The traffic was hell rolling in from his side of town, making me glad I opted for a place in the city limits, closer to the action. A yard is great and all, but I’d rather have those fifty commute minutes back every day than a place to put my garden.
Who has time to garden right now, anyway?
Ahead of us in the courtyard, Blue stands guard by the bar, a large bowl of nuts in one big hand, munching away with a “leave me in peace” expression likely to keep all but the bravest sponsors at bay. Jean-Louis, our Quebec boy, is deep in discussion with two impressed-looking men in suits, and Capo has a pretty blonde giggling in a corner. Meanwhile, Nix holds court with a group of middle-aged women who look like they’ve had loads of very subtle, very expensive work, and is clearly loving every minute of it.
“Looks like Nix is still a cougar magnet,” Parker observes beside me as we collect a glass of champagne from a redhead in a seriously provocative cocktail uniform. I’m no prude, but I didn’t expect so much cleavage on display at a fancy party.
Shows what I know.
Guess the rich and famous like boobs, too.
I mean, I’m absolutely a fan, but situations like this are awkward. It’s strange to be wearing a suit while the person serving you drinks is wrapped up in a postage stamp and a prayer.
I thank the redhead, keeping my gaze on her face in a show of solidarity—we’re both members of the workforce at this party—before responding to Parker beneath my breath, “He’s not a cougar magnet; he’s an enthusiast. Every time we’ve gone to a club on weekends, Nix makes a beeline for a woman old enough to be his mother. Boy can’t get enough of a sexy Southern lady of a certain age.”
Parker grunts in amusement. “No lies detected. And I mean, I can see the appeal. Women over forty know things.”
“Yeah?” My lips hook up on one side. “You talkin’ from personal experience, mon frere?”
Parker chuckles as he gives a slightly self-conscious shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. There might have been a woman in college who taught me a thing or two that I’ve used to show other ladies a good time.”
“So, cougars are doing God’s work? That’s what you’re saying.”
He laughs. “Totally. Carla will always have a special place in my heart.” He straightens, taking a sip of his champagne as he scans the crowd. “But that’s not what I’m here for tonight. You, either. Women come and go, brother, but an endorsement deal with the right brand could set us up for life.”
He’s right. This isn’t just a party—it’s business masquerading as celebration. “Where you headed first?” I ask over the rim of my glass. “I thought I’d look for the guy from Lava Energy and go from there.”
“Smart,” Parker agrees. “You’re known for speed. Lava would be a good fit. I’m going for that shoe brand from New Zealand, the one with the funny commercials. I can do funny way better than that NFL Chad they’ve got doing spots for them now.”
“Hell yes, you can,” I agree, holding my hand out for a quick dab. “Happy hunting and catch you later.”
“Later,” Parker says with a wink. “Let’s go land something for our future wives to take half of in the divorce.”
I roll my eyes at the joke—Parker’s parents’ ugly, ongoing split has left a mark on the man—and drain the last of my champagne. But just as I’ve spotted the guy from Lava over by the bar, something else catches my eye.
It’s a woman in the same scandalous cocktail outfit as the redhead, but with legs a supermodel would kill for, and…
Holy fucking shit.
My stomach bottoms out so hard I feel it at the back of my throat.