“He put the dirty hippie taint on her,” Stony said. “It’s hard for a girl, even a girl like Scarlett, to recover from something like that.”
Several players laughingly agreed.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t do her because she dated Sean Penn?” Brody asked.
“No. I didn’t say that.”
“I met Milla Jovovich,” Adam boasted.
“She’s badass in Resident Evil,” KO said, and the conversation turned into a competition of who’d met the hottest celebrity.
Henrik Frolik, so fresh from the Czech Extraliga, said something, his accent so thick, no one understood a word. No one but ten-year veteran Martin Rozsival, who looked at everyone and said, “Petra Nemcová.”
“Ah.”
“She’s hot, Henrik.”
Henrik nodded, and it was the next player’s turn. “I met Emma Stone at the last Spider-Man premiere.”
“I met January Jones when I played for the Rangers.” Paul upped the ante by adding, “And Kate Upton.”
“Kate Upton’s hot.”
“Did you see the picture of her cutting off her own shirt?”
“Yeah. Jesus.”
“I met Gordie Howe.”
A reverent hush fell over the plane. Meeting Mr. Hockey was better than meeting Gretzky or Messier or both. Better than three courses of Petra, Emma, and Scarlett, with a side of Kate Upton.
For the next few hours, the team settled in with their electronic devices, watching movies or game tapes or playing Big Win Hockey. The plane touched down in Detroit just before eleven a.m. A freezing wind whipped the tails of Sean’s coat and stung his cheeks as he walked from the plane to the waiting bus. A light snow flurry swirled around his dress shoes and he lifted his shoulders against the cold.
“Knox.” John Kowalsky caught up to him, his coat open and collar unbuttoned, seeming impervious to the cold.
Sean stopped and turned toward Lexie’s father, waiting. He and Lexie had stuck mostly to the truth the night they’d talked with her parents, but he was sure the newspaper article had dredged up a few more questions that Sean didn’t feel like answering. Mostly because he hated lying to John.
“Howard is sitting at 1.8,” he said over the wind as they moved toward the bus. “Decent. He’s worked blocker saves, but when he goes paddle down, he leaves his five open.”
“I saw that, too.”
John looked across his shoulder at him, creases fanning the corners of his eyes, with something that looked like a bit more respect. “I think if you go top shelf, you’ll find air up there.”
Sean liked this John a hell of a lot more than the man who’d called him a hotdog to his face and a nancy-pants behind his back. Guilt twisted and coiled inside his chest as he waited for the coach to mention the newspaper article and Lexie.
“That thing that happened the other night in my office.”
Sean had been waiting for this and mentally squared his shoulders.
“You keep your head in the game. We’re going to table that other thing.” John cleared his throat. “For now.”
The team loaded on the bus and John didn’t mention it. He didn’t say a word about Sean and Lexie when they all met for lunch and loaded up on pasta before the game.
Taking the ice in Detroit always tested a player’s ability to focus. The wave of boos and pelting insults surging from the Red Wings fans threatened to get inside a guy’s head and knock him off his game if he let it.
The insults from the players weren’t much better, but at least could be addressed.
“You want this? Huh?” the Detroit enforcer asked Sean as he tied him up against the boards. “You don’t want any of this.”