Logan Read online

  LOGAN

  Bad Boys of Hockey

  By VIOLETTE PARADIS

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events reside solely in the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are eighteen years of age or older.

  This title contains mature themes and strong language.

  Cover image used with permission from Deposit Photos.

  Fonts used with permission from DaFont.

  © 2020, VIOLETTE PARADIS. No portion of this work can be reproduced in any way without prior written consent from the author.

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  Table of Contents

  LOGAN

  RILEY

  RILEY

  LOGAN

  RILEY

  LOGAN

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  LOGAN

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  LOGAN

  “Alright team, here’s who’s starting tonight. Beechwood!” The guys in the packed locker room cheer. “Jaro!” Another cheer.

  The Cleveland Crushers are dressed and ready for that night’s outdoor game. The excitement in the room is palpable. Coop, my best friend since childhood, leans over to me. His blond hair falls into his green eyes.

  “You gonna score tonight?”

  He asks. “Only if you play well enough to set me up.” I smirk.

  “Oh, so you’re saying you can’t do it without me?”

  I playfully punch him in the shoulder.

  “Drake!” Coach Brauer calls my name. The team cheers. “Cooper!” Another cheer.

  I pat Coop on the back. “I bet we can score in the first minute.”

  “Let’s do it.” He holds up his hand and I give him a double high-five, the way we used to when we were kids. “But I’ll get the goal and the two points that go with it.”

  I laugh. “Oh, is that how it is?”

  “Race to the Corazon trophy, right?”

  “If you want to play that way, it’s on.”

  Coach’s voice fills the room as he announces the starting goalie for the night. Everyone cheers. “Now let’s have a great game, guys. I know the visibility will be low since we’re outside, it’s snowing, and the lights will cause a lot of glare, but this is our night. Make this a night to remember! Make Cleveland proud! Go Crushers!”

  “Go Crushers!” Everyone cheers again as they get to their feet and start filing out of the locker room. Everyone’s chatting excitedly about tonight’s outdoor game.

  “Isn’t this crazy?” I ask. “We’ve been dreaming about playing in the Ice Classic since we were kids and now it’s really happening!”

  “Absolutely mental. We did it.”

  “Come on.” I stand up on my skates, towering over Coop. “Let’s do this.”

  Coop’s phone lights up in his locker.

  “Don’t wait up for me,” he says as he grabs his phone.

  Following the rest of the team outside, I marvel at the large outdoor ice rink. The sky is dark, allowing the cool air to sweep up off the ice into the air like icy fog. The stands are filled with tens of thousands of spectators all bundled up and excited for the game. The air is electric.

  As I step onto the ice, icy crystals instantly start settling on my skin. I breathe in the frozen air, that smell of winter. I’m home.

  “Hockey fans, welcome to this year’s Ice Classic! Now if you’d all rise for the singing of our national anthem.”

  Skating to the center of the ice, I face the flag for the national anthem. When it’s done, I look over at Coop who’s glaring at me.

  Whoa, why does he look so angry?

  “What’s wrong?” I mouth.

  “You’re a fucking asshole,” he hisses.

  What the hell?

  We were fine a few minutes ago. Is this because of our friendly competition? Nothing about his expression seems friendly. There’s no time to ask because the game is about to start.

  We skate to our starting positions. I’m in the center circle with Coop on my left. He’s still glaring at me.

  “What did I do?” I mouth again, even though I should be focusing on the player in front of me and the puck that’s about to drop.

  He makes a gesture that I know all too well. He wants to fight.

  What the fuck?

  He’s never acted like this before, not in the fifteen years I’ve known him.

  The referee drops the puck while Coop and I drop our gloves. The stadium erupts into excitement and confusion as everyone rises to their feet. All I’m focused on is Coop and that snarl on his face. Before I know it, he smashes into me and I elbow him in the face. We struggle with each other while our teammates and the referees work hard to pull us apart.

  “What the hell, buddy?” I manage to say as I fight him off. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “You’re an asshole,” he spits.

  The team finally pulls us apart but Coop continues to yell at me.

  “An asshole!”

  I feel blood dribbling out of my nose and into my mouth. The crowd is on their feet, simultaneously cheering and booing. I look around at all the lights, the cameras, and my teammates staring at me.

  What the hell just happened?

  ***

  “Absolutely embarrassing,” Mr. Chapman says. The owner of the Cleveland Crushers is sitting behind his desk in his office while Coach Brauer stands next to him. I’m sitting across from them as I hold an ice pack to my face.

  “Where’s Coop?” My voice sounds nasal because of the bandage over my bloody nose. “I gotta talk to him.”

  “Harrison is still in the hospital because he had to get stitches. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, this happens.” He holds up his phone. There’s a picture of me and a woman I slept with a few weeks ago.

  “What the hell…” I say.

  “Who is that?” Chapman asks.

  “Umm…Chelsea? No, Catherine!”

  “It’s Cooper’s girlfriend!” He says.

  “Cooper had a girlfriend?”

  “He was at the Christmas party with her. He said they just started dating.”

  “I wasn’t at the Christmas party.” I look around in bewilderment.

  “We know,” Chapman says, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

  “Does it matter? She was single when I met her…”

  “That’s not what she says in this article.”

  “She spoke to the press?” I squint at the screen in confusion. “This is a set up! She probably got paid by those stupid tabloids to lie.”

  Chapman shakes his head and sighs. “I think it’s best if you guys take some time apart.”

  “Take some time apart? But we play together!”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What?” I look at Coach. “What does he mean, Coach?”

  “One of you guys has gotta go,” Coach Brauer says in a soft voice. “Chapman thinks it should be you.”

  “Me? But I’m the third-highest goal-scorer in the league this season and I have the highest points overall! I could be this year’s MVP!”

  “I know,” Coach says in a dejected voice. “But it’s not my decision.”

  “It’s mine.” Chapman looks up from under his glasses. “You’ve embarrassed us at the Ice Classic. This is one of the biggest games of the year! Do you know how hard we had to wo
rk to get this?”

  “But he started it!”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me or any of the cameras or the millions of people watching.”

  “I swear!” I groan in frustration.

  “This isn’t the first time this happened… remember those nude photos of you that were all over the magazines last month?”

  “I had nothing to do with that either! It’s these women that I meet at the clubs… they take photos of me and try to blackmail me!”

  “No more excuses. You’re off the team. You’ll be on a new team by the end of the week so I suggest you start packing.”

  “But I’ve never played without Cooper! We’ve been playing since we were kids!”

  “Yeah, well you shoulda thought of that before you fucked it all up.”

  “I didn’t…” I exhale angrily. “Whatever. I’ll get on that new team and I’ll be so good, I’ll win the Corazon trophy. You guys will regret this.”

  Chapman looks up at me from under his glasses. “You’re lucky you’re even still in this league, kid.”

  RILEY

  After a long three hours of class followed by three hours in the lab, I make my way up the stairs to my dorm room. Even though I still have several hours of homework to do, all I want to do is pass out in bed.

  One day, I tell myself, one day I’ll graduate and finally have time for a life. I touch the rose pendant on my necklace, my good luck charm. Hopefully soon.

  I push my way into my room.

  “It’s about time you came home.” Jane, my roommate, is standing in front of the full-length mirror, putting on a pair of diamond earrings. She’s wearing a light pink cocktail dress and her makeup looks Instagram-worthy. Her dark wavy hair and striking blue eyes tend to capture a lot of attention on campus, but all dressed up like this she looks like a supermodel.

  “Wow.” I put down my backpack, realizing that I’m wearing stinky day-old clothes that make me look like I’m in a grunge band from the ’90s. “You look great. Got a date tonight?”

  “Something like that.” She smirks.

  “With the same guy as last week?”

  She pulls out a silver tube of lipstick and leans into the mirror as she puts it on. “Mm-hmm.”

  Although we share a room, Jane and I are complete opposites. She’s a social butterfly, which is fitting considering she’s a media student who’s always interviewing local celebrities. All my classes are in the sciences and I spend most of my time alone in a lab. Although we’d likely never hang out in the real world, it’s hard not to get to know one another when we sleep ten feet away from each other. That’ll be another benefit of graduating: gaining some privacy and a room to myself.

  “Have you checked your phone recently?” Jane places her lipstick inside a glittery clutch.

  “No. I’ve been at school all day.” Pulling out my phone, I see multiple messages from her. “Is everything okay?”

  “I need a favor.” She’s hopping as she pulls on a pair of black heels.

  “Wait… are those Louboutins?”

  “Uh-huh.” She smiles wickedly. “Nice huh?”

  “They’re more than nice… they’re art!”

  Jane smiles. “At least you appreciate them. I doubt Rupert will notice them.”

  “Rupert?”

  “About that… can you do an interview for me tonight?”

  “An interview? I’m a physio student, not a media student—”

  “It’s easy. Just a few questions. Please?”

  “Easy? Easy for you to say! You’re used to that stuff.”

  “I’ve already written out all the questions. You just have to record the answers on your smartphone.”

  “Hold on.” I narrow my eyes. “You’re going on a date instead of doing school work?”

  “It’s not a date… Well, it is. It’s complicated. I’ll explain later. Please do this for me? I only need three more interviews and I’ll pass this course.”

  Looking at my backpack, I let out a slow sigh. “I can’t. I have my own work to do.”

  “Can’t you do it tomorrow?” She puts her hands together and gives me her best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

  “I don’t know… I should really study.”

  “Come on, you owe me. You haven’t even paid me back for your cafeteria card.”

  Guilt churns in my belly. The last time I checked my account I was eighty thousand dollars in debt and sinking thanks to my outrageous tuition fees.

  Jane’s phone vibrates. She checks the screen and looks back at me. “So, can you do it?”

  “You want me to cover for you so you can go on a date…”

  “It’s not really a date. It’s work.”

  I furrow my brow. “Work? I didn’t know you had a new job.”

  She hesitates. “I can’t really tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  She bites her lip. “Please will you do this for me without continuing this interrogation? You can borrow my car.”

  “Wait… you have a car?”

  “Bought it last week!”

  “Your new job allows you to afford that?”

  “And then some.”

  “What the hell are you doing? And are they hiring?”

  “They’re always hiring.” She gives me another one of those wicked smiles.

  “Wait…” I look at her suspiciously. “What kind of place is this?”

  She hesitates.

  “Jane, tell me.”

  She sighs.

  “Fine.” She pulls out her phone. “But if I tell you about this, you can’t tell anyone.”

  “Now I’m really worried.”

  “Riley.” She looks at me with a pleading glare.

  “Come on, you know I won’t tell anyone. Who would I even tell?”

  She nods as she taps her screen with her perfectly manicured fingers. The screen on her phone lights up and she clicks on an app that looks like a green circle.

  “Oh.” I squint. “So, it’s an app?”

  “It’s an app called Green Light,” she says. “You fill out a profile and people bid on you until you get hired as a date.”

  I pull back in shock. “Like a sex worker?”

  “No, not like that. Everything is PG. I’m just his fake date.”

  “Fake date?”

  “We’re just pretending. It’s like we’re creating theater for the media. And you know how much I love to put on a show.” She looks back at the mirror and flirts with her reflection.

  “So, you’re a media student participating in false media?”

  “Talk about fake news, huh? It’s great. I’ve been learning about the media firsthand from Rupert and getting a nice chunk of change in the process.”

  “Rupert, huh?”

  She bats her eyelashes. “He’s kind of a stud.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s an actor from England. The media there is insane and they’ve been harassing him about not being over his famous ex. He moved here to get away but the paparazzi followed him. He needed a boring American girlfriend or at least the appearance of one.”

  “Why?”

  “The media only really cares when celebrities date other celebrities. The paparazzi backed off a bit when they realized he was just dating a lowly journalism student.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” I say hesitantly, not really sure if it does make sense. “What do you guys do together?”

  “I mainly tag along during award shows or film premieres. Tonight, we’re going to an award show. It’s great. I get to eat amazing meals, wear beautiful dresses, and I get ten thousand dollars a date.”

  “Ten thou—” I nearly choke.

  “Right?” She fluffs her hair in the mirror. “I finally went to that hairdresser on Fifth that costs a fortune. Looks good, huh?”

  “How am I only learning about this now?”

  She shrugs. “He’s not famous enough for America, I guess. And I figure the less I talk about him here on cam
pus, the better. It’s easier to keep my story straight.”

  “What if someone finds out?”

  “No one knows, except for you.” She turns and looks at me with her sharp blue eyes. “But you won’t tell anyone, right?”

  “Of course not!” I’m still trying to process all this. None of the physio students I know have nearly as colorful a life as Jane does. “How many other people out there need fake dates anyway?”

  She shrugs. “You’d be surprised by how common it is. There are people who need to fool their family or friends, politicians or famous people who do it for good publicity, gay people who aren’t out of the closet yet, that kind of stuff. All sorts of people are on this app.”

  “Ten thousand dollars a date,” I say to myself.

  She watches me with a devilish smile.

  “What?” I’m caught off guard by her pointed eyebrow.

  “You’re thinking about doing it, aren’t you?” She asks.

  “No, I’m not! I’m not getting paid to be someone’s fake date! It’s absurd!”

  She shrugs. “Your loss. I’ve already paid off my entire student debt.”

  “Wait... seriously?”

  Her eyes flash. “I know you’re tempted.”

  I shake my head. “No. This isn’t for me.”

  “Why not? It’s not like you’re dating anyone in real life anyway. You can at least get some money out of it, pay your bills, rent, food, debt. I mean, considering you want to get one of those fancy internships next year, I don’t think you have a lot of money coming to you any time soon. Just think of all those zeroes in your bank account.”

  She’s right. But I’m not thinking of multiple zeroes, I just want one. If I could be debt-free, I’d be able to get a coveted internship next year. They don’t pay much, but the experience is invaluable. That's the life of a millennial: bust your ass at school to get a minimum wage dream job.

  Sigh.