Chapter 6

Alex

I'm livid, fuming, fucking pissed off. I don't need some snoop around me and certainly not for 24/7. Jeez-us it's a real spanner in the works not to mention she'll be in the way. Sure, I like going out like any other guy my age and I like pussy, who doesn't at my age? Girls are the same. We have high sex drives, well most of us in any case.

Tough shit, she's going to have to tolerate it. There is no way I am making out she is my girlfriend. No. Fucking. Way. I throw my keys in the aquamarine ceramic bowl that sits on the top of my mahogany table in the hallway. Mom bought it for me on one of her trips to Mexico. It's the only dash of color in the hallway, hell practically in the whole house since I prefer whites, blacks, charcoals, and neutrals.

My yard is masculine, and I like it this way. From the large stainless-steel fridge in my kitchen, where I have to admit I do the minimum amount of cooking, I grab a diet coke. I guzzle down half a bottle in one go. Yeah, I know at this time of night it's not the right thing to drink with the caffeine but I'm a night owl in any case. Sleep always eludes me, I go to bed thinking about the games I just played, how I can be even better on the ice and how much I want to help our team bring home the Stanley Cup.

It's been a dream of mine ever since I was a kid. I have signed posters up in my gym all housed in stainless steel frames of some of the great names in hockey, who've bought home the cup. Henri Richard, Jean Beliveau, Yvan Cournoyer and Claude Provost adorn the walls of my stark gym. I look at them when I work out, they make me want to be a better player. I want to be the best that NHL has ever seen. Right now, I'm their golden boy but I know it can't last forever.

What will I do after that? I'd probably coach and help kids get to live their dreams. Mine was a hard slog, trust me. I didn't always have it this easy. My dad left my mother when I was four. They argued all the time, my memories are of them always fighting. He liked to spend money and mom wanted us to have a better life. She worked hard as a secretary and long hours. What she earned my dad used to drink away. He worked as a mechanic here in our hometown, but the wage was low and after work he'd go to the bar then come home drunk like a skunk. He was never mean to my mom or laid a finger on her, their rows were about money. Always the fucking money. I knew then that I never wanted to have these kinds of issues when I grew up and now I don't. I work my damn ass off to make sure I'm secure and one day, maybe in my mid-thirties, I'll meet someone who blows me away enough to settle down with and have kids. They will want for nothing.

My mom eventually kicked my dad out, she paid the bulk of the mortgage in any case. Eventually after much hard work she got to make it to assistant level then finally became an executive assistant for a CEO in a finance firm here in Aspen and she loves it. Mom still works there now, it can be long and draining hours but she won't leave even though she could take early retirement. I get my work ethic from my mother, she's a shining example of a hardworking woman and the respect she has from her boss and her colleagues makes me so damn proud she's my mom.

When I was six, she met a guy called Lenny and a couple of years later they got married. I like Lenny, he's a solid kind of guy. It was him who always took me to the ice and bought me my first hockey stick. Boy was I obsessed after that. He took me to the games, sometimes mom would join us, but it was our thing. From the moment he came into our lives, I liked him.

I could see how hard he was trying to get me on side, honestly he didn't have to work that hard on me. From the very off I liked the guy with his cheery smile and disposition. I loved how my mom was always happy and smiling when Lenny was around. He'd bring her flowers and chocolates and always helped her with the dishes. If her car was in the garage he'd drive her around. From the start he was a good guy. I know how lucky my mom was to meet Lenny and I didn't want to spoil it for her. Besides, I guess I kind of wanted a father figure. I loved the way my mom would sing when she was baking or cleaning, you know just cause you're a kid, it doesn't mean you don't see the small things.

Lenny works in the same company as my mom, he is the finance director and is stable. He doesn't drink, he likes the odd BBQ with friends over and cooks a mean burger. He's a good guy. My sister, Apple is his kid but we're tight as can be. I love the way she looks up to me as her elder brother and even though she is now in high school, she still calls me on a regular basis to chat about her life and boys. I want to kill every one of them because I am fiercely protective of my kid sister, but I have to let her live her life. She knows she must be careful.

Apple wants to be a doctor and I'm telling you my kid sis definitely has the smarts to succeed. I studied because I had to keep my grades up and my career in ice hockey rested on getting grads. Apple, well she studies because she enjoys it. Her favorite subject aside from anything to do with science and biology is math. Ugh. I mean who loves math? I did enjoy art and even though I'm blowing my own trumpet here some, I was pretty good at it. Okay, I'm still good at it and I do have a small area that works as a studio here in my house. I don't tell anyone about it, it's private to me. Besides, if I mentioned it to my team guys, they'd just laugh at me and say ridiculous shit. You know how guys can be.

It's just gone ten thirty now, so I decide to go put on a movie on Netflix, Oppenheimer, whilst I try to calm down thinking about some sports journo coming to intrude in my life and having to pretend to date her. WTF is all that about anyway? I think my manager and my coach have lost the plot. How am I supposed to get myself some hardcore sex with a fake girlfriend? I rake my hands through my hair. Even the movie isn't one-hundred percent distracting me right now.

Ground rules, there's going to have to be some stringent rules in place. Most of all for her not to get in my face. Only, I've known about Madison Lane for a while now. She's blood thirsty and hungry to be at the top of her field and what she wants she usually gets. No different than me then, maybe tomorrow I'll have a word with coach and see if we can't at least put her in a hotel. I can only imagine how serious she is going to take this assignment. It makes me groan. That woman will be all over me with her damn camera, like a hot rash. I lay my head back against the sofa and close my eyes just thinking about it and having no privacy whatsoever for six whole months is too much to endure.

I get they want me to clean up my image but I'm telling you all now, that ain't going to happen. I'm not about to become a monk. Sure, the fighting on the ice and getting pissed up so much can be trained, even I'm getting bored of getting drunk all the time. I get how my online image is looking pretty shit right now too, so yeah, maybe I can curb that. But having to fake date Madison Lane, that's a pretty tough act to have to pull off.

No. Fucking. Way.

I open my eyes to see Cillian Murphy on the screen giving a fantastic performance of Oppenheimer, in my eyes that man can do no wrong. I've followed his career for years and Peaky Blinders still remains one of my favorite shows.

It's getting late, I need to get some sleep we have early practice and I can do without coach being on my case between now and when we have our next game.