Run to You (5 page)

When Greta and Brandon stopped talking, she glanced at the scoreboard clock. It was almost nine-thirty, and it was pitch dark out, with a fat moon shining even through the stadium lights. The bottom of the eighth was beginning, with the Twins leading the White Sox 3-1. Where did the time go?

Whoops. She forgot all about her girlfriend April, her best friend who brought her to the ballpark for a night out.

Greta looked around for her friend, and saw the nice usher heading toward her.

“Your girlfriend left the park,” he told her. “She didn’t know what happened to you, when you didn’t come back to her. And she seemed mad.”

Oh, no. Now her best friend was mad at her. But Greta really couldn’t blame her.

Then again, she found herself enjoying male company for the first time in ages.

The White Sox scored a run in the bottom of the ninth, but it wasn’t enough. The Twins won the game, 3-2.

Brandon looked at her troubled face. “What’s the matter? The Sox lost, but it’s just one game.”

“I…I don’t have a ride home. My friend left me,” she told Brandon.

“Ride home in the limo with me.”

“In a limo? A limousine?”

“Yeah. You don’t think I took the bus here, do you?” Brandon grinned. “Come on. I’ll just tell the driver to make another stop.” He dug out his cell, and spoke a few words. “Okay. We’ll be picked up at ten minutes. You know where the main entrance is, don’t you?”

Greta stammered, “Er..er, no. This was my first baseball game.”

Brandon burst out laughing.

“I told you. I’m not a big sports fan. I went with my friend April, and she already left.”

“You came with a friend?”

“Yeah, and…and I guess she got upset when I didn’t get right back to her.”

Brandon suddenly felt sorry for her. How would she get home if he wasn’t there?

And he felt something else. She ditched a girlfriend to listen to him recite his history in hockey, and she wasn’t a fan. She was genuinely interested in him and all he had to say.

He wanted to see this girl again.

During the ride home, Brandon asked Greta about her engraving and jewelry making. It seemed she’d just got started telling her story when the limo pulled up in front of her apartment building.

“I guess this is good night.”

“This is good night, and see you later.”

Greta stared at him.

“I want to know more about your jewelry making. It sounds interesting. I want you to call me. I want to see you again.”

Greta gave him her numbers, her cell and her work number. “I work a lot of weekends, especially when it’s busy.”

“Maybe I can drop by sometime and watch you work. And you can watch me work, at my job.”

A fast kiss good night, and he was gone.

Greta stood at her front door, looking at the street where the limo drove off.

“Well, how do you rate?” Her neighbor down the hall greeted her. “Driving home in a big black limousine! You dating a movie star?”

“No, not exactly. I think I’m dating a hockey star.”

Brandon entered the Ice Bandits’ dressing room and knew he was at home.

The noise, the yelling, the smart remarks, all of it was a part of him and his being a defenseman for the Ice Bandits. He felt more at home here than he did in his own apartment, alone with his thoughts and memories. Here, in the spacious room with all the stalls, the equipment, and the big Ice Bandits logo on the rug, was Brandon’s favorite place to be. All this, and his loony teammates too.

Kyle MacDonald, the team captain, was a good-looking dude from Nova Scotia with long dark hair, sea green eyes, and an easy smile, showing the best set of dental implants in the NHL. He got the most fan mail of all the Ice Bandits, most of it from young ladies who asked him out, or asked him for other things.

“You see my new toy?” Vyto Snarskis entered the noisy locker room. “New phone. My beautiful wife Daina bought it for me.”

“Where did she get the money? You’re the guy with the long-term contract.”

“Do not be sarcastic, Mike. She got me the very newest phone. See all the apps?” Vyto showed his teammates what he could do with his phone. “Here is my texting. Here, you see, is the Ice Bandits site. And here is the weather. And here, I could order whatever I want. I could order any app from the app store.”

“Can you order oxtail soup with that thing?” Mike made a face.

“I can order oxtail soup, jellied pork, kugelis…”

The ringtone sounded. It was the Ice Bandits’ theme song.

“My lovely wife is calling me.” Vyto looked at his phone as the ringtone continued.

“So answer her, already,” said Kyle.

Vyto’s broad face turned red. “I…I do not know how to answer.”

The guys hooted and hollered. “Your brand new phone! The latest phone, but he can’t take a call!”

Most of the Ice Bandits’ lockers were cluttered. Along with their sweaters and all their game gear, many of the guys had good luck tokens, or pictures of their wives and kids. Rookie Mike DeBerry, known as “Dingleberry” to his comrades, hung a photo of himself right under his name tag.

“My first game in the minors,” he explained. “This brings me good luck. I’ll always have it with me.” Mike had a paperback book in his locker too, a rarity among hockey players.

Brandon wondered what the heck he was reading. He remembered Terri liked to read hot romance novels. Brandon glanced at one once. It was a best-seller, about a lady vampire who went hunting for a mortal man. Brandon couldn’t believe what he was reading. He’d never even thought of some of the stuff the vampire and her man did.

He suddenly had a vision of Greta Patton.

Her long blond hair. Her pretty green eyes. Her smile that went up to her eyes, not one of those plastic smiles that female fans often gave him. The way she laughed at his jokes and observations at the White Sox game. And how she was going to pay for her own beer. He never met a girl who automatically paid for her own drinks. They always waited for him to pick up the tab. And they always ordered more than a drink or two.

Brandon continued to think of her, as he entered the ice for the morning skate, Coach’s lectures, and his own practice. Even doing what he loved best, he couldn’t stop seeing Greta everywhere he looked.

What was going on here?

He was determined not to let a woman get to him again, as practice went on. But when practice ended, his thoughts of Greta did not end.

Brandon imagined Greta watching him on the ice. And let his mind wander to things that could happen after a game, off the ice…

“Watch the other team. Pay attention to what the other team does. Watching their methods of play, and their mistakes, makes you a better player.” Coach Jock addressed his troops.

Maybe learning from your mistakes made you better at anything, at games or at real life, Brandon thought.

“I spilled my coffee all over my white couch! And it got on my white rug, too! It’s a real bitch to clean up.”

“Ma, you shouldn’t have white furniture. Not if you’re prone to spilling things.”

Greta tucked the receiver between her neck and shoulder so she could keep working on her latest project. It was a gold ring with a simple setting, but lots of gemstones, one of those “family rings.” Of course, each family member had a different birthstone. One of her favorite clients ordered it, so she wanted to make it perfect.

In between trying to remember the month order of birthstones, Greta listened to her mother complain.

“Why do I fall asleep with a cup of coffee in my hand? Caffeine is supposed to keep you awake.”

Mr. Blakely smiled at her. He could always tell when Greta was on the phone with her mother. She sighed and rolled her eyes a lot, and would often take the Lord’s name in vain.

He slipped a copy of the Tribune’s sports section under her phone, and pointed to a picture.

There was Brandon Taylor, the Ice Bandits defenseman, in the stands at the White Sox game. Someone sat next to him, and Mr. Blakely recognized her.

“Ma, when you…oh, Jesus, look at this! I’m in the paper!”

“You’re in what paper? What did you do?”

Mr. Blakely burst out laughing.

Greta picked up the paper and held it close to her face. “The Trib sports section! I was at the game last night, and there’s a picture of me.” She didn’t tell Ma she was seated next to a good-looking hockey player. And she hoped Ma didn’t ask her about her girlfriend April. Rather, her ex-girlfriend April. Greta felt bad, and texted her, but no response.

Greta liked seeing the two of them, she and Brandon, together. She thought they looked good together, the little blonde and the muscular hockey player with the dark hair.

When Greta’s mother finally got off the phone, Mr. Blakely smiled at her. “How do you rate? Box seats at a White Sox game, and dating an Ice Bandits player.”

“We didn’t exactly date. He saw me in the stands. And I met him before.”

“How did you meet a hockey player?” Nora, the bookkeeper, asked her. “My son loves the Ice Bandits. Which player are you seeing?”

“I’m not really seeing him…”

“Oh, it’s Brandon Taylor, number 48! My son wears his jersey.”

Mr. Blakely corrected her, “It’s a sweater for hockey players, not a jersey. Greta, there’s a side of you we don’t know about.” And he winked at her.

Greta’s ears began to burn. She wished these people would leave her alone, and let her work. She and Brandon weren’t really a couple.

Not yet, anyway. And she wouldn’t see him again for a long time. He said the Ice Bandits were going on a long road trip out west, to Vancouver and Calgary and California. She didn’t know San Jose even had a professional hockey team, let alone one that was so good, an Ice Bandits star looked forward to playing against them.

Greta put the family ring aside and went back to work on another project, a sterling silver necklace with a braided design. Brandon would probably forget all about her during that road trip, and maybe find some babe from San Jose to accompany him.

Brandon practiced, and practiced some more.

He didn’t practice what he was good at. He practiced what he was not good at, over and over, till the moves became as much a part of him as his helmet, gloves, and stick.

Practice took your mind off things. A hockey player could concentrate on skating and stick handling and all the little nuances coach pounded in his head. No room to think about a woman, one who betrayed her man.

Or maybe a new woman, a pretty jewelry designer, who didn’t expect to be waited on.

Brandon could still see Greta in his mind’s eye, but tried to keep thinking of hockey. He looked out at the ice and spotted Kyle MacDonald. He was always the first player on the ice and the last one off. Brandon wondered if he ever worried about a woman, if anyone ever did him wrong. Kyle sure had his pick.

But he didn’t party as much as the young guys, the rookies like Mike DeBerry. Kyle was totally dedicated to his game, as a team captain should, and spoke to the guys before every game and before most practices. He told them to do the small things every day, so they could get better and the team would get better. Sounded like a cliché from one of those self-help books, but funny how a lot of those clichés made sense.

Brandon kept working on his game. He could think about women later. Even a nice one like Greta.

“God, this is a long road trip,” said Zach, as he skated past Brandon. “San Jose, Calgary. We’re all over. Only one day in Vancouver, my own hometown, and I couldn’t spend that much time with my mom and dad.”

“Well, we’re flying home tonight,” Brandon told him. The Ice Bandits would fly back to Chicago right after tonight’s game with Calgary. And the flight would get in at about two in the morning, Chicago time. The long flights, incessant practices, hot games and sleepless nights were beginning to weigh on all of the Ice Bandits.

But this was true for every team in the NHL. It was a long season. Not to mention the playoffs, a separate season in itself.

Brandon looked forward to going home to Chicago, his adopted home. He wanted to sleep in his own bed and make his own coffee. And he wanted to call some friends.

Number one on his list to call was Greta Patton. He wanted to see her again. He had to see her again. He couldn’t forget the hard-working girl who had her own life and didn’t expect him to take care of her.

Why couldn’t he call her now?

He picked up his cell and found her number. Was that her work number?

“South Side Precious Metals.” She answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Greta. Remember me? Brandon Taylor? From the Sox game…”

Greta was so surprised, she almost dropped her engraving tools.

“Yeah…yes, I sure do. Are…are you back in town?”

“We’re flying home tonight. I wanted to know if you were interested in going out for lunch when I get back.”

“That would be nice.”

Lots of eyes were on Greta. Her co-workers guessed that the Ice Bandits player was calling her.

“My flight gets in at a suck hour. Like two in the morning, with the time difference.”

“How are you getting home?”

Brandon rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Ahh, I don’t know. Call a cab. See if I can ride with one of the guys…”

“I can pick you up. At Midway? That’s not far from here.”

Greta was going to pick him up from the airport? At two in the morning? Did he hear right?

The Ice Bandits won the game, 4-2. Kyle scored two goals, a rookie just up from the minors got his first goal, and Mike scored the last one. Brandon and Zach had pretty good games—Brandon even got an assist, on Mike’s goal-- and Coach seemed pleased. He didn’t talk much after this game. Everyone was anxious to get home after the long Western road trip and sleep in their own beds, at least for a few hours.

Most of the guys slept on the flight, including Brandon. He fell into a deep sleep as soon as the plane took off, and didn’t wake up until Zach bumped into him when the plane was already on the ground.

“You got a ride home? Lauren’s coming to get me.” Zach’s longtime girlfriend.

Brandon opened his eyes. He figured Greta had forgotten about driving him. “I wonder who could drive me?”