Page 19 of Offensive Plays

The crowd bursts into applause as Hicks' chosen song blasts through the speakers. He strolls onto the stage and snaps his fingers to the crowd.

Some of the women in the crowd whistle at him as he approaches the mallet-wielding Rina.

"Number fourteen plans to woo his date with a visit to the aquarium followed by a moonlit dinner in the marina."

I pull the curtain slightly to get a better look at the room again. We're in a fancy hotel meeting space at the Four Seasons. The Heatwave team colors of orange, yellow, and black accent the room, and candlelight flickers from every round table, casting dancing shadows on our enthusiastic bidders.

Several women in the crowd wave their paddles excitedly.

"Five hundred. Do I hear six? Six hundred?" Another excited paddle waves in the crowd.

There are only two of us left in this auction now. The rest of the Heatwave singles on the team are already sitting with their respective dates. I look to our team captain behind me. He's the prize of the night. They're saving the best for last.

"You nervous, Fergie?" he asks with his cocky smile.

"Not in the least," I lie.

"It'll be fine," he whispers from behind me. "We used to do these on my old team. One of these sweet foxy mamas will pay an exorbitant amount of money to take us out on a date of our choosing. You take pictures. Sign some autographs for their grandkids. Bada bing bada boom. You get to go home with a good conscience knowing you've helped support the Houston Children's Hospital and are a hero for those kids."

He slaps me on the back and massages my neck. "Do it for the kids, Fergie."

I groan and shake him off. Somehow this seems like the opposite of being a hero. "And what if these dates expect more than what we agree to?"

He raises a brow, considering it for a moment.

"Then I'd say you can thank you're lucky stars. Your dry spell is over. And you won't need that app you've made after all." He bows with a flourish, and I shove his shoulder.

He laughs, and Rina shoots us a death glare as bidders fight over our teammate.

"Thirty-five hundred. Do I hear four thousand?" Rina continues with the auction. The familiar flash from the cameras is coming from different angles in the room. The press is here, which is the real purpose behind the event.

Though fierce on the ice, the Houston Heatwave NHL hockey team doesn't have the best reputation off the ice. Fights amongst rivals. Fights amongst ourselves. We even had a bar brawl with a group of "fan-emies," as Landry called them. They hated that we had been last in our division at the time.

But this is the reason we've turned things around. This is why Rina has stacked our calendars with these community events through the end of the playoffs. We have some major competition when it comes to the other big sports here in Texas, with football reigning king.

Let's be real. Ice hockey and Houston aren't two things that typically go hand in hand.

Hence—why we're here. Being pimped out for charity. In the hopes that the great people of Houston will see that we're trying to do some good. Which is why my older brother insisted on coming out tonight to support us. He's on some kind of a charity kick lately and thought it would be good for the church to be apart of tonight's event. Even if just to give some money to the cause.

Hicks looks over at us and wriggles his brows. The two women who originally bid on him are battling back and forth, and he's soaking up all the attention.

"Twelve thousand dollars!" One of them screams.

The crowd gasps.

"That's the most anyone's brought in tonight," Keelan says in awe from behind me. "Fucking Hicks and his toothless charm."

"Twelve thousand going once. Going twice," Rina slams the mallet onto the podium. "Sold to Mrs. Nandina Chandra with Chandra Automotives."

The man sitting next to the elated woman has his arms crossed in front of his chest and looks like he'd pay twelve thousand dollars just to be able to walk out of here right now. Must be the husband.

Mrs. Chandra claps excitedly as she makes her way to the stage and hoops her arm into Hicks now waiting at the steps.

"I have three daughters who would just die for this chance with you. I can't wait to rub it in their faces," she says to the forward as they walk past.

Hicks laughs with her making their way to her table.

"Up next, we have the equally handsome counterpart of the Heatwave's first line: the very single..."