Page 1 of Game Misconduct

One

Vivian

The moment I stepped into my apartment, I could sense something was off.

“Duck!”

Growing up with three brothers taught me to react quickly to that word. I bent my knees and covered my head with my free arm as a football soared mere inches above me before slamming into the wall.

“I told you to take the ball outside,” Jessica, my roommate, chastised the guys from the kitchen.

“It’s too cold,” her boyfriend, Lance, whined from the opposite side of the room.

“Then improve your aim,” I called to him with a half-hearted glare as I hung my purse on a hook and shed my jacket, scarf, beanie, and gloves. Walking to work was a luxury that helped me save money on a car payment, gas, and insurance, but days like this, when the temperature wouldn’t break freezing, made me regret the decision I’d made last summer.

“Hear that, Kirkpatric? Even Viv knows you suck.” Mikey Dankowski grinned and winked at me as I passed through the danger zone to the kitchen.

Jessica offered an apologetic smile along with a teriyaki steak bowl. “They got you dinner in hopes of softening you up.”

“For what?” I asked as I pulled off the lid. The sweet and savory scent hit my nose, instantly making my mouth water. Work had been too busy for me to take a break for lunch, so the bribe was timed perfectly.

“They want to host a little party here, and I told them they have to clear it with you too.”

I eyed the guys while I chewed. They continued to clumsily toss the ball back and forth. It was a good thing it wasn’t a reflection of their skills with sticks and pucks, otherwise the Fury would have a very bleak outlook for playoffs.

It was beyond strange to even be thinking about hockey, a world I paid very little attention to before about two months ago when Jessica moved in. I’ve never been much of a sports person in general, but I at least knew the basics of basketball and football. Jessica and her boss, Dani, gave me lessons when they watched the away games here, but the learning curve was dramatic. Every time I thought I understood, icing or off-sides was called and I would have no idea why.

“A little party?” That sounded suspicious. It wasn’t that I necessarily cared if they had people over, but making the guys work for it held the opportunity for entertainment.

“I doubt the whole team will come. Most of them have families they’d rather spend their time with, so it would probably only be a handful.” Jess would know. She was close friends with many of the wives and girlfriends of the players from her connection with both Chloe Murray and Dani Glisten. I almost wish I’d known about her friend group before agreeing to be roommates. Jess, on her own, was great. Her outgoing personality balanced out my more introverted tendencies. They spent time together, but not so much that it felt like she didn’t have her own space or privacy.

It was the addition of the constant flow of professional athletes that made me uncomfortable.

“What usually happens at these parties?” I asked after I swallowed another bite.

“Dinner, talking, just hanging out.” Jess waved a dismissive hand.

The thought of feeding and entertaining an undetermined amount of people––famous people––was daunting, but it wasn’t really my responsibility. For Jess, it was just another night. She planned elaborate events far more imposing and impressive as a career.

Lance and Mikey set the football on the couch and positioned themselves across from me with the most serious expressions I’d seen on either of them.

“Vivian,” Lance started.

“Ms. Ashwood,” Mikey corrected.

“Lady Ashwood.” Lance shot his friend a victorious look while I waited for them to get to their question. “We bequeath you a favor.”

“You’re giving me a favor?” I asked with raised brows. “Wow, I can think of so many things I want.”

Lance’s eyes widened and he turned to Mikey, who shrugged. “It sounded fancy.”

“I think you were thinking of beseech,” Jess said with a giggle.

The guys slapped each other’s arms while whispering blames at one another. When they refocused, Mikey spoke. “We would like to beseech a favor. The fellow men on the team invite everyone over for dinners every week or so, depending on our travel schedule, and neither of us has ever hosted. We desire to, but behold it saddens us to admit neither of us has the space to accommodate more than four or five people.”

I’d never been to either of their homes, but it was hard to believe ours was significantly bigger. The living room and kitchen area were open-concept, and we had a larger than average balcony with a grill, but it was too cold to use the outside for a party.

“What will be required of me?” I continued in their attempt at formal language.