Page 32 of Scoring Chance

11

Derrek

Chloe was waiting for us in the team room after practice, and the guys began whispering immediately. I knew from experience that whenever she was down here, we were about to hear something we wouldn’t like.

“Everyone take a seat.” Coach Romney announced, quieting the murmuring. I found an empty spot next to Malkin and fell into it.

He shot me a pained look. “What do you think it is?”

“Nothing good,” I whispered back.

Chloe scanned us with a knowing smile. She was aware of how anxious she made us. She loved the control, I knew it.

“As you all know, the Fury Foundation hosts a gala at the beginning of the season every year. This year’s was very successful.”

“Oh no,” Malkin muttered under his breath.

He was right. Nothing good could come from this announcement. Tension filled the room as we waited for her to continue. She was drawing it out, toying with us.

“The foundation chooses not to focus on aiding one organization, instead we spread our resources throughout the community as needs arise. This winter has been particularly harsh and our friends at the local homeless shelters have reached out. They’re nearing crisis status. The rise in rental costs and overall cost of living has left more and more families facing homelessness. The majority of those arriving at the shelters have jobs, but can’t afford to keep up with their bills.”

The somber news washed over the room. We lived in our own bubble with most of us making at least a million a year. The majority of us had charities and other organizations we helped with, but it was always humbling to be reminded of those in need.

For the first time since I met her, I saw emotion break crack Chloe’s normally stone exterior. She was the strong one. The backbone that made sure everything got done. This burden weighed heavy on her.

“What can we do?” I called out.

Her eyes held mine. “We’re holding another gala.”

There were a few quiet groans, but no one complained out loud. I nodded and waited for her to explain.

“I know it’s not everyone’s favorite thing to dress up and schmooze, but it’s the most effective form of fundraising we have. Last September we hit a new record. Just over half a million dollars raised in one night.”

Coach stepped forward. “It’s not often the shelters reach out to us in need. Chloe has met with the organization leaders and reviewed their request. While we’re not the only group stepping up to help, the majority of the funds will likely come from us.”

Chloe agreed. “Rather than our normal black tie gala, we’re going to do something a bit more fun. We’re hoping to draw in more people with a lower ticket cost, and a silent auction.”

Hartman cleared his throat. “We’re not doing one of those date auctions, right?” His voice was laced with panic.

She chuckled. “No, I’m not that cruel. The auction will consist of things donated by you guys and the team. I’m also reaching out to past players to see if they would be willing to contribute.”

“What kind of donations are we talking?” Reese asked. I was surprised he wasn’t already aware of what was happening. Either Chloe kept this from him, or it was a recent decision.

“The team has some memorabilia from past seasons and players that will be included. We’re doing some single game and season tickets, too. We’ll provide jerseys, pucks, and sticks for you guys to sign. If you have past jerseys you want to sign and auction off, that would be great. Maybe your first game puck or something.” She shrugged.

“Can’t we just write a check?” Erik asked.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. I smirked at the sibling standoff. She opened her eyes and forced a smile. “Of course, Erik, but I also want to see some of your personal items there.”

He rolled his eyes while she glared at him. Erik was one of the top paid guys on the team. Of course, cutting a check would be easier for him, but not all of us had deep pockets. The backup goalie wasn’t exactly a top contract. I made more than enough to pay my bills, but I couldn't write a six figure check like some of the others.

“Okay, so we’re all on the same page for the auction?” She waited for a few guys to confirm. “Great. Moving on. It will be held two weeks from Saturday, and the theme is Forties Big Band. We’ll all be dressing accordingly.”

Her tone made it clear that forties attire wasn’t optional. No one even bothered questioning it.

“It will be held here at the arena. We’ll cover the ice and have a band, dance floor, auction tables, and games set up.” She paused and looked us over. “Any questions?”

Not a single hand raised. We knew better than to argue or question her. Our fates were sealed. We’d be dressing up and attending the gala, no point in doing anything but accepting it.