The Attack Zone (Slap Shot #2)

6. Mitch

CHAPTER 6

MITCH

FOUR DAYS LATER

I t’s the night of my annual Rebounds for Rescues gala and I’m buzzing with excitement. I just picked up my suit from the tailor and I got a haircut this morning. It’s one of the few light weeks we have this season in terms of the game schedule, and I’m excited to be with supporters and friends.

I’m in line to check into the hotel when I hear a familiar voice handing out orders down by the ballroom. I got a room at the hotel the gala is at so I can still get my mandatory nine hours of sleep. My psychiatrist says sleep is just as important as medication, and I need to make sure my bipolar disorder is under control during the season. I’m not open about it with most people, but King and Mack both know and they help me stay on track. It was King’s idea to get the room so I didn’t have to travel across town back to my condo to go to sleep. That dude really looks out for me.

I turn to see Stacey looking as breathtaking as ever in her business casual outfit. She’s wearing long, flowing pants today with a tight top and a pink blazer. She gives me a short wave and I don’t even have time to wave back before she’s turning back to her clipboard and walking down the hall.

Once I’m checked into my room, I rinse off in the shower before pulling out my new suit. Once I’m totally ready, I assess myself in the mirror. I look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. Never mind the fact that I only bought this suit after Stacey said she was bringing a date. I’ll look great to the donors and that’s what matters.

When I arrive in the ballroom, guests have started to arrive, and I can feel the energy pulsing through my body. It happens sometimes when I’m with a lot of people; I become more outgoing and I speak without thinking. Luckily, I’m aware that I’m in this kind of a mood tonight, so I can keep myself from saying or doing anything embarrassing.

Well, at least I think I can keep myself from that … until I see Stacey. The moment I lay eyes on her in her gown, it’s like my brain is abducted by aliens and when it’s finally returned to my body, I know I’m going to make a fool of myself. That’s all I seem to be able to do when it comes to Stacey.

She’s flanked on her right by some bro-y looking guy in a mediocre suit and she looks uncomfortable. For the record, it’s not the cost of the suit that makes it mediocre, that’s not what matters. It’s the style that says Hello, I’m a douche . I feel a wave of protective energy wash over me, which is a ridiculous thing to feel considering Stacey couldn’t be further from being mine.

And yet I find myself crossing the room towards my consultant and Mister Douche Bag, eager to size the dude up.

“Hey, Mitch.” So we’re back to Mitch again? “This is Greg.” She gestures mindlessly towards her date, and I chuckle a little. It’s like she purposefully chose this guy to fuck with me .

“Hi, I’m Mitch,” I reach my hand out to shake his hand. His shake is total weak sauce and I have to keep myself from jumping up and down because there’s no way Stacey actually likes this guy.

“Greg, nice to meet you,” he says in a tone that tells me it’s very much not nice to meet me. “Lotta Blizzards fans here?” he asks.

I nod, trying to ignore what a dumb question that is. “Yep. And players. And coaches. But also just folks who care about animals.”

“I’m not really a fan of either,” he says, glancing over at the crates filled with rescue pups in disgust, as if it somehow makes him the better person in this interaction.

“That’s alright,” I say, even though I can’t imagine Stacey being with someone who doesn’t like hockey or animals. She loves both things dearly. I decide to fuck with the guy a bit.

“We’re glad to have you here no matter what. Always nice to meet people in Stacey’s life.” It’s bait because I’m almost positive this guy is not Stacey’s boyfriend. I’m pretty sure he knows next to nothing about her.

“So, you guys are close then?” he asks me.

I have to keep myself from laughing. I’m a humble dude so I’m not saying she has to have talked about me because I’m famous or something, but there’s no way Stacey wouldn’t have mentioned how much she hates me to her significant other.

I wrap an arm around Stacey and give her a squeeze. I force myself to ignore the feeling of her shoulder pressed into my chest. The way she fits so perfectly in my arm. The little laugh she lets out under her breath.

“Yep, Stace is the best,” I say.

“Stace?” she asks. She’s looking up at me with her big brown eyes while she’s still wrapped up in my arm, and it makes my brain skip like an old record.

“Yes, Stace,” I say. “Or would you rather we go back to ‘ love’?”

She shrugs out of my arm and gives me a shove. But it’s a playful one, almost ... flirty?

“You need to work the room,” she says. “We need to raise more from the silent auction this year and you know people bid more when they talk to you guys.”

“I’m on it,” I say. “I’ll get King to help too.” Stacey knows better than to suggest that Mack help since she works for him too. Caleb has social anxiety and while he’s gotten so much better at handling things like this, I’m not going to ask him to help until I’m sure he won’t give himself a panic attack over it.

I find Thomas and he and I fan out to cover more ground. I work the room with ease, laughing at dumb jokes and making some of my own for good measure. Before it’s time for the silent auction winners to be announced, I’ve successfully hit up all of the best possible people, and Thomas has done the same.

I search the crowd for Stacey to let her know I’m ready to address the crowd, but she’s nowhere to be found. According to the schedule she sent me, it’s that time though, so I make my way to the stage.

“Hello everyone!” I holler into the mic as I bounce behind the podium. “We’ll announce the silent auction winners in just a moment, but first I just want to thank you all for another wonderful event. We’ve raised so much for this cause, and I want you to know how much of an impact you’re having. Because of you, we’ve been able to continue our work to fight for a future where no animal is left without a home or stuck in a shelter. Be sure to check out some of the dogs we’ve helped save here tonight; you can even bring one home with you!” I hold for applause and search the room for Stacey again. I still don’t see her. “And I want to say that none of this would be possible without my teammates and friends. Most importantly, it wouldn’t be possible without the incredible force that is Stacey Anderson. Year after year, she makes sure that Rebounds for Rescues is successful, and we all owe her a huge debt of gratitude.” I hold for more applause and I’m pretty sure I hear Cassie whistle, but Stacey is still nowhere to be found. Still, I am grateful for her work, and she deserves the recognition.

“Now, I’m going to invite my teammate and friend, Thomas King, up here to help me announce the silent auction winners.” More applause and cheering fill the room because Thomas is our top goal scorer and has more points than all but two players in the league right now.

Thomas joins me on stage, and we read off the winners, snap some photos, and try to make the winners feel special. But in the back of my mind, I can’t help but think about Stacey. As soon as we’re finished with the auction, I basically bound off the stage, determined to find her and make sure she’s okay.

I close the ballroom door behind me and make my way down the hallway. Finally, I find her. She’s standing just outside the women’s restroom looking down at the carpet with slumped shoulders. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ve never seen Stacey with slumped shoulders in my life and it’s freaking me out.

“Hey, are you okay?” I say as I approach her.

I seem to have startled her because she jumps a bit as she looks up at me.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she says.

She’s not fine.

“What’s going on, love?” I ask.

“I thought it was ‘Stace’,” she says with an unconvincing laugh.

“Meh. Tried it, hated it. ‘Love’ is better,” I say. “Unless your boyfriend was bothered by it?” I say sarcastically.

“Huh?” she asks.

“Greg, was it?” I say .

“Oh, yeah. Greg,” she says. “I, uh, sort of kicked him out.”

Interesting ...

“You ... kicked your boyfriend out of my gala?” I say.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says. “He’s an asshole.”

I mentally punch a fist into the air and work very hard to actually just nod politely.

“What kind of a name is Greg anyway?”

Stacey lets out a little laugh and finally makes eye contact with me.

“It’s literally your name,” she says.

“Mine has two Gs. And an S,” I say. “And it’s my last name.”

“True,” she says.

“And I’m trying to make you feel better,” I continue.

“Well, we could get confused. Greg and Greggs are pretty close.” She’s smiling now and I feel like I’ve won the lottery.

“We should call him Evil Greg, just to make it clear who we’re taking about,” I say.

“What makes you think you’re not the evil one?” she says. She has a glimmer in her eyes and they’re somehow even more striking.

I reach my hand out to her. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go celebrate. We hit our goal and Evil Greg can’t take that away from us.”

She takes my hand and nods. I guide her down the hall and back into the ballroom, realizing how sweaty my hands are and regretting not subtly wiping them off before taking her hand. But she doesn’t seem to mind.

The event is wrapping up by the time we’re back, so we each stand by the door and thank all the attendees for coming. Two couples even left with new dogs, which I’m thrilled about. It’s a rare moment where we’ve both dropped our weapons. We’re just two people who worked towards a goal together, celebrating a win.

In fact, we almost feel like a team.