Page 15 of Charm on the Rocks
Chapter 7
“So where arethese hats going, anyway?” Madison asked Amanda as they rolled in about two carts of various hats that had been tossed onto the ice after Kyle Underwood’s third goal of the period, or, in hockey language, after Kyle Underwood’s hat trick. The game had just ended and it was Amanda and Madison’s night to collect the hats and sort them out after the game.
“One of three options,” Amanda said, wheeling them to the laundry room that was right between the men and women’s locker room. “The player who makes the hat trick keeps all of them, throws all of them away, or donates all of them. Ken always let the player choose what he wanted to do with them, but it’s always been tradition that the player keep three hats – symbolizing each goal he scored – and donate the rest to charity. Which is why we’re here, in the laundry room. The staff down here is going to clean them so they’re, you know, wearable, and donate them to a charity Underwood chooses. He picked out the three he wants to keep and I’ve already tagged those so when they come out of the wash, they’ll be delivered to his locker.”
“Wow.” Madison blinked, leaning against her cart and crossing her arms over her chest. “How did the tradition start, anyways? Who, like, just throws hat onto the ice because a hockey player scores three goals in one game?”
“It’s tradition!” Amanda exclaimed in a ‘duh’ tone. “How dare you not know this, Madison? And thank God you’ve admitted your ignorance to me. If you said this to even any amateur hockey fan, they would laugh in your face and then demand your resignation later as a Gulls Girl. Okay.” She finished pushing her cart to its intended spot and turned around, her brown eyes dark, serious. “The hat trick tradition started ninety years ago when a businessman handed out fedoras to players after a player scored thrice. Then, in the seventies, fans decided they wanted to get in on this so they started throwing hats into the rink to the point where the NHL actually amended its rule to say something like articles thrown on the ice won’t result in some kind of punishment for the home team for delay of game.” She smiled brilliantly. “And that’s the hat trick.”
Madison clapped a couple of couple times and returned the smile.
“I like that,” she said after the story sank in. “It’s cool.”
“Yeah, hockey has a bunch of traditions like this that other sports don’t,” Amanda said, nodding. “I’m going to head home, okay?”
“What about showering?” Madison asked. “Changing?”
Normally, the Gull Girls showered and changed back into their street clothes after every home game. They could leave their uniforms in their designated locker or put them in the laundry room if they needed to be washed.
“Actually...” Amanda let her voice trail off, looking away. The worry that had been etched in her brown irises before the game suddenly came back full force. “I called my older brother to meet me right after the game. As lame as it sounds, I’m just kind of... I just want to make sure that nothing happens to me, you know? So I’m going to sneak out the back, where I told him to wait, and he’s going to walk me to my car.”
“You know, there are plenty of ushers or security guards here to walk you to your car, right?” Madison asked. “You didn’t have to call your brother here.”
“I wanted to,” Amanda said with a shrug. “I trust him. Plus, he’s taking me out for a late dinner, so it’s all good. Will you be okay? Stewart can walk you to your car, too, if you need it.”
“I’ll be fine, thanks,” Madison said. “I’ll see you later.”
Madison followed Amanda out of the laundry room but headed over to the locker room rather than the back exit. Most of the Girls had already left, and by the time Madison had showered and was back in her street clothes, she was by herself. After grabbing her bag, she shut her locker and headed out of the room when she ran into, quite literally, Alec Schumacher.
“Oh,” he said, placing both his hands onto her shoulders in order to steady her. Because of his size, her small frame knocking into him didn’t even make him stumble. “Are you okay? Seriously, Madison, you need to pay attention to your surroundings.”
“What are you even doing here, waiting outside the ladies’ locker room?” she asked. She pushed her damp bangs across her face, hoping to get them out of her eyes. She succeeded, but they probably looked a bit disarrayed. “No offense, but you kind of look like a perv.”
As he chuckled, Madison noticed his dark blond hair now looked brown due to the fact that it was wet, the locks falling into his face in clumps rather than being pushed up into spikes. Which made it easier for Madison to notice a cut on his forehead. It didn’t look deep enough to warrant stitches, and even though it was cleaned, it started bleeding again. Why didn’t he put a bandage on that? He gestured with his arm, causing Madison to see that he, too, was wearing regular clothes; a white t-shirt that clung to his nicely toned torso, the sleeves showcasing extremely pleasant looking biceps. Loose, grey sweatpants and tennis shoes completed the look. He looked relaxed, normal, like someone one might run into at the gym. Except Alec Schumacher wasn’t normal. He didn’t look normal. Because he was breath-taking.
Not that Madison would ever admit that.
Out loud, anyway.
“Actually, you’re going to regret saying that because I’m here to walk you to your car,” he told her in a smooth voice. Before Madison could protest, the hockey player thrust a hand into her face – a hand that was so large, Madison was certain it was practically the size of her face – and added, “And I know what you’re going to say, but I don’t care. I’m walking you to your car, Montgomery, and that’s that.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” she told him. “Really, I don’t know why everyone is making a big deal about this.”
“Because it is a big deal.” His gentle tone was serious, causing Madison to look at him with an inquiring gaze. “Listen, I know you’re unfamiliar with a lot of the hockey stuff, but the Prisoners and The Gulls have nearly as big a rivalry as we do with the Los Angeles Centaurs. I don’t know if you noticed, but the Prisoners were pretty scrappy tonight. Well, they’re always scrappy, but tonight more so than normal. They have a big fan base here even though they’re from Frisco and their fans can get pretty scrappy, too. Plus, what with the whole Ken Brown and Brandon Thorpe thing – I mean, you must have heard the fans booing Thorpe before tonight, that’s just not normal. In fact, people actually love Thorpe. He’s one hell of a goalie – and the tension... When I was on the bench, I saw a couple of people throwing food, shoving each other. It never gets that way. We have pretty classy fans.” He paused and gave her that smile that caused the butterflies in her stomach to start bumping into each other. “I just would feel a lot better if I made sure you got to your car safely. You’re a beautiful woman, all by yourself, and I would feel responsible if anything happened to you on my watch.”
Madison couldn’t help but smile as she watched him explain his intentions. He had this genuine look on his face, so even though his voice sounded plastic and charming, he meant what he was saying. And the more he spoke, the faster he got, as though he wanted to make sure to say everything that popped into his mind in case he forgot. It was actually pretty cute.
And sweet.
Her eyes were drawn upwards, back to the cut on his forehead. More blood had accumulated and was going to start to drip down his face if he didn’t get a band aid on it soon.
“You realize this is Newport Beach and not, like, Compton, right?” she teased. She felt her eyes sparkle and realized that perhaps she actually liked Alec Schumacher. Not romantically or platonically, but in general. As a person.
“Hey, I learned how to fight because I’m from Newport Beach,” Alec said.
“Really?” Madison sounded doubtful.
“Yeah. My mom signed me up for ice skating lessons when I was probably four. She loved skating; she nearly made the Olympic Team when she was in her twenties, but that dream never panned out. Anyway, when I got good at skating, my mom asked if I wanted to play hockey. I had seen other kids practice the sport and I had always been interested in learning it, so my mom signed me up.”