Shutout (The Renegades Series Book 5) (2 page)

“Eh.” Alison shrugged. “It was full of my brother’s frat house buddies. Nothing like fending off drunk handsy college boys all night. I cut out early and stopped in the Cupcakery. They were having a champagne toast at midnight, and unveiling their new cupcake — Champagne Kisses. It’s my new favorite flavor. The icing really does taste like champagne, and it has tiny red and pink hearts sprinkled onto the white icing. The batter is so fluffy and light I wouldn’t be surprised if it had champagne in it too.”

Hailee loved the Pink Ribbon Cupcakery. It was such a cute little store, and now thanks to all the cupcake talk, she was craving a cupcake. It’d been a while since she’d had one. Maybe she’d treat herself for her birthday. “Sounds like I’ll have to stop by and try one of those.”

“I just wish you would get out of this neighborhood. I’m sure you could find a nice apartment by me, and you know I could use the help at the pet salon. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we were neighbors?” Alison said, as they both walked away from The Cat House and past the neighboring bar to a doorway. “We’d see each other all the time and you could go to the Cupcakery every day; I know you love their cupcakes!”

Hailee sighed. If Alison only knew that was the goal. Plus, a daily stop into the Cupcakery sounded wonderful. But she didn’t need a lecture; she just wanted to eat. Alison was an awesome friend, but she was good at lecturing, and as much as Hailee loved her, that could get annoying.

“Home, sweet home.” Hailee unlocked the heavy steel door. Turning on the hallway light, she let Alison in first, then locked the door behind them. “And I like my loft, thank you very much.”

Alison looked back at her and shook her head, keeping her hands away from the walls as they approached the stairs. “I’ll never understand why,” she said. “You’re on the third floor above a bar and a strip club. There are stains on the walls here in the hallway and stairwell that I’d rather not know what they are, and it’s so dingy looking.”

Alison complained about Hailee’s loft all the time; it wasn’t somewhere she would opt to live. This was sub-par compared to her frilly pink and white life. Alison’s apartment was right above her pet salon in a charming old school neighborhood filled with clean sidewalks, cute little shops, and lots of foot traffic. Even the garbage cans on the street were sparkly clean; Hailee swore someone must come along and scrub them every night. To overdose on the cuteness, the streets were even paved with brick. The truth was, that place was adorable and Hailee was a little jealous of her friend. But this was where she called home.

“I’ll help out at the pet salon any time that I can, you know that. And if it weren’t for me, your books would never get done,” Hailee said proudly.

The top of the two-flight stairwell opened up to a spacious loft. One time it was probably an office space that was full of cubicles, back before this neighborhood was taken over by bars and less than desirable clientele. Now it was one big rent-controlled loft, and Hailee made the best out of it. Even though there were no walls to separate the kitchen, the living area, and the bedroom, she had done her best to make it homey.

“I actually meant you could consider working there full-time, you know—”

“Quit the club. Yeah, I know that’s what you want, Ali. Maybe someday I’ll consider it, but right now I’m fine. I wouldn’t make nearly as much anywhere else as I do at the club. You know you can’t pay me that kind of money, and I don’t expect you to.”

It wasn’t just the money that kept her working at the strip club. It was the fact that no one judged her there. Not her choice of hair color, not her tattoos, not even her nose ring. She was able to just do her job and go home. No drama. She had tried waitressing and temp administrative jobs, but they all wanted her to cover her ink and change her hair to a “normal” color. Like it mattered, when she was sitting inside an office doing filing work, whether she had blond hair or pink.

Hailee wasn’t planning on working at The Cat House forever, just long enough. How long that would be, she wasn’t sure. She wanted to have enough income so that even if the cost of renting the space for her gallery went up, she’d still feel secure financially. Returning to The Cat House because she ran out of money was out of the question. That kind of defeat could never happen.

“Are you at least seeing anyone yet?”

“No,” she mumbled, but of course, Ali knew that already. Hailee couldn’t remember the last person she’d dated that she actually liked. Oh yeah, she could, and that was a lifetime ago. He was the reason she stopped following hockey. She had left him and those dreams years ago.

It wasn’t the hockey life that scared her, it was the fact that he wanted to “take care of her”. That meant him out earning the money while she stayed home, cooking, cleaning, watching soap operas, she guessed, raising a family, and waiting for him to return home from whatever city he was playing at. Not to mention, holding her breath with every hit he took, and praying he was going to get up afterward. Hockey could be dangerous.

But that’s not what scared her. Losing herself did. She wasn’t a stay-at-home wife and mommy type. She wanted to excel at painting and selling her art, as well as to help other up and coming artists do the same. She wanted to run her own art gallery.

When Hailee was growing up, her mom had worked, and her dad had worked. Her mom loved her job as a Real Estate Associate, and her dad was a highly respected construction foreman. Hailee had started her first job at age sixteen as well, and had worked ever since.

Dominic hadn’t understood that. He had wanted Hailee to travel with him and enjoy the hockey life, then settle down in some lavish neighborhood and be a hockey wife and a hockey mom. This wasn’t the 1930’s; women didn’t belong in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. Hailee was proud that she earned her own living, bought her own car, and paid her own way; she didn’t need a man to do that for her.

But Dominic was from a hockey dynasty and had the burden of his family’s high expectations on his shoulders. He was determined to achieve those goals, with a happily ever after planned at the end of it all. His attitudes about family weren’t the same as hers, and even though she loved him, she believed that wasn’t enough. When he had proposed to her, he’d wanted a long engagement, but that meant staying put in Vaughn, Ontario and pushing her dreams aside. She wasn’t that girl.

Her love of painting and following her dream of owning her own art gallery had brought her to Pittsburgh to the Art Institute, a prestige and privately owned art school that had opened in 1921. The school had produced many great designers, and pursuing this dream was something she needed to do for herself.

Tomorrow would mark three years since she’d left her home. Three years since she had made a new life for herself. Three years since she began reinventing herself and doing it all on her own. That’s how she was raised; stand on your own two feet.

Leaving Dominic had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. But a clean break was necessary if she was going to find herself. Last she heard, he was a star goalie somewhere in Toronto, and that’s when she stopped paying any attention to the hockey world.

Since then she’d avoided all hockey news and games. She didn’t know where Dominic was and she didn’t care. The few people she still talked to from back home knew better than to utter his name to her. As much as she had wanted him to be, he wasn’t her future. Period.

In two days, it would be her twenty-second birthday, but it was just another day to her. She’d been planning to get a new tattoo tomorrow and then do some painting, maybe even drink enough to forget… everything. But she had been asked to work that next day, her birthday, and a massive hangover would not be a good idea. Some big name clients were having a private party, and she seemed to be a favorite amongst that type of clientele. When the men spent more, not only did she make more, but so did the club. Everyone won.

“Any big plans for tomorrow?”

“You know my birthday isn’t for two days, right?”

“Of course I know that, Hay. I also know you’re working on your birthday. I don’t like that you have to spend your birthday there. So we’ll just have to pretend tomorrow is the big day. Any plans?”

Hailee shook her head as she pulled out a chair at her fifties style kitchen table, and opened up the bag. The aroma of burgers and fries filled the loft. Grabbing a few fries, she shoved them in her mouth to avoid any additional birthday conversation.

“Good, then I’m taking you out.” With her mouth full, Hailee couldn’t even object before Alison added with a sly smile, “And that’s not up for debate. You can’t say no, because it’s my gift to you. Just remember, if anyone asks, it’s your birthday.”

“Whatever.” There was no sense in arguing with her. Apparently birthdays didn’t mean as much to her as they did to Alison.

Hailee took a glance around her loft. This was hers. All the reminiscing about Dominic made her forget how far she’d come. She could see her goal; it was within reach. Just a little more work and she’d have what she’d dreamed of.

Dominic

He tossed his helmet into his locker and pulled off his pads. Dominic Zanetti was one of the goaltenders for the Pittsburgh Renegades. As usual, today’s practice had him on one end of the ice, and Kaden O’Conner, the other goalie, on the opposite end. It had been a long and grueling hour full of suicide drills, multiple laps around the ice, and working on line maneuvers and one-timer shots on goal. It was physically and mentally exhausting, just the way he liked it. Pushing himself to the limit gave him a sense of accomplishment like no other.

His muscles ached, and he was overheated from the workout, yet chilled from the ice. Sweat caused his Under Armour t-shirt to cling to his torso; he really needed a shower. Looking around the room, he saw that most of the men were taking their time getting undressed. The lucky guys hit the showers first, no chance to run out of hot water, and today was his lucky day.

The veteran players typically forced the rookies to get the last of the hot water and usually a cold finish to their shower, and he’d had too many cold showers as a newbie. Dom was a rookie no longer; Torin, Kyler and Mateo now had that role. He ditched his nasty clothes, grabbed his towel and headed to the shower stall.

The only guys who followed him were Tyler, Kaden, Matt, Patrick and Kris. They filled the room, leaving large gaps between each man. As in typical man-child style, no one man wanted to stand directly next to another. It would only end in twelve-year-old boy humor and a pissing contest, so if the guys knew any better, they just avoided it.

Quickly Dom soaped up, washed his hair, and rinsed before grabbing his towel to dry off. Hurrying back to the locker area, he noticed that the equipment manager had already been through the lockers gathering dirty laundry, so luckily all their sweaty and rank gear had been cleared out, along with the accompanying odor. It was quiet for a moment, but echoes of laughter and crude jokes filled the room as Tyler, Patrick, and Matt filed in. Kaden soon followed.

“Where’d Dom run to?” Matt asked.

“Dunno, but do you blame him for hurrying out of there? Trust me, no one wants to look at your wrinkled old ass any longer than they have to!” Patrick joked as they walked into the locker area. He nodded to Dom.

“How do you know it’s wrinkled? Stop looking at my ass, Pat,” Matt said as he adjusted his towel, unfortunately flashing Kaden and Dom.

“Whoa! Dude! Put that away. Damn.” Kaden covered his eyes in jest.

“Jealous, O’Conner?” Matt grinned as he covered himself up.

“Hardly. More like scarred for life at how wrinkly it was. Is your junk supposed to look like that? Maybe you should consult a doctor or something.”

“Kaden, at his age, things do wrinkle,” Tyler said dryly, hiding his smile.

“Fuck all of you!” Matt yelled before stomping to his locker, purposely dropping his towel altogether. The guys let out a collective groan.

Dom stood facing his locker, quickly dropped his towel and pulled up his boxer briefs in the same movement. His mocha brown hair was shaved on the sides and back, but longer on top. He typically liked to mess around with styles; sometimes he’d spike it, sometimes it was a mohawk, other times it just fell to the side. But right now it was still dripping wet. He grabbed his towel and rubbed his hair until most of the moisture was gone.

Grabbing his hair dryer, he walked barefoot in only his boxer briefs over to the mirrors. He ignored the chatter behind him and ran his fingers through his damp hair while the warm air started to dry the strands. Turning the blow dryer off for a moment, he sprayed a pile of mousse into his palm, then worked it through his mini mane before continuing to dry it. He ran his fingers through his hair as he styled it. The look was messy, just the way he liked it.

He admired his tattoos in the mirror before returning to his locker. His newest tattoo on his neck had healed nicely, a brilliant orange and black tiger with its mouth open showing its teeth, snarling. He had his last name, ZANETTI, curved around his neckline. The hockey logos for Toronto and New York graced his back on his shoulders, with the Renegades logo at the base of his neck. The word “Dynasty” was inked across his shoulders between the two logos. Various designs covered his arms down to his wrists. He had Z-DYNASTY inked by the knuckles of his fingers.

His family values were solid, instilled in him since childhood, plus he was proud of their hockey legacy. His mom hated his tattoos, but she loved him. She was his rock. All those years his dad was traveling with the team, it was just the two of them, until his brother Dante came along. By then his dad had decided to retire to concentrate on Dom’s hockey quest. His two sisters were older than he was and when he was growing up they were always off playing sports or out with friends.

The logos were in honor of his grandad, who used to play for Toronto, and his dad, who had played for New York. His little brother Dante was being scouted already. Soon they’d add another to their hockey legacy. They were, no doubt, the Zanetti hockey dynasty.

His nephews now played ice hockey, and even though their last name wasn’t Zanetti, someday they’d follow in the family footsteps too. The one girl in the family, his niece Mikayla, even played Lacrosse.

“Yo, Dom! You looked good out there today,” Tyler called from in front of his locker. His was on the other side of the room, facing Dom and Kaden’s lockers.

“Yeah, you were on point this morning, Meatball,” Patrick added, using the nickname some of the guys called him, since he was from an Italian family. “And don’t worry, superstar, your hair looks beautiful as always.”

Kaden laughed as his blond hair fell into his face. He had the typical overgrown and shaggy “hockey hair” and the ladies loved it. He was already dressed; the reporters would be in any minute.

“Your hair takes as long as mine, Kaden, so shut the hell up.”

“I think our goalies have the best hair in the league,” Kris said.

“Can they quote you on that?” Paige Martin, the Renegades PR assistant asked from the doorway. With a pen tucked behind one ear, and dark blond hair up in a bun, she commanded everyone’s attention. Her tight business style skirt hugged her curves, and her high heels accentuated her shapely legs, but no guy dared ogle her — she was Tyler’s girl. “Kidding, of course. Gentleman, this way.”

She motioned for the media folks to enter the locker room, winking at Tyler before she continued. “Okay folks, like I told you earlier, the players you can talk to are as follows: Kaden, Kris, Dominic. Coach Walker is available as well.” She motioned to the men scattered around the locker room.

“No Tyler Kidd? That’s not fair!” one reporter called, and a few groaned.

Tyler gave a nod before Paige gave the okay to the media. “Remember, non-game day interviews are quick; we’re not staying here all day. So just a few questions, and when I say time’s up, you’re done.”

Paige never gave the media much choice in the matter; what she said went. Period. If they didn’t like her rules, she showed them the door or threatened to pull their credentials.

Melanie, Paige’s boss, entered the room. She was tall with dark hair. Her business skirt was not form fitting like Paige’s, but no one really thought of Mel as ‘sexy’. She was more like their sister. “The rest of you men can leave if you’d like. No reason for you to hang around.”

“Thanks, Mel, but we like listening to the boys talk,” Patrick joked. “It’s so motivational.” His voice laced with sarcasm.

Melanie rolled her eyes and stifled a chuckle. “Suit yourselves. Paige, I’ll be in Coach’s office if you need me.”

“Dominic,” one reporter called for his attention. “Do you think you’ll start next game?”

“I won’t know until I know, and by then you’ll already know, I’m sure.” He laughed, because the media seemed to know things even before the players did.

“Dominic,” someone else called from the crowd. “You looked good out there this morning. Any health issues at all?”

“Nope. I’m ready to play.”
Odd question.

“Dom, any new tattoos?” A young woman’s voice squeaked out from the crowd.

The reporters were supposed to stick to hockey questions; when they got off topic, it pissed Paige off. Before he could glance at Paige, he heard her heels clicking on the locker room floor as she walked towards the crowd of reporters. “Dom, everything going okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded to her and directed his attention and trademark smile to the crowd.

“Dom, your contract is up at the end of the year. Are you hoping to stay on or maybe get a starting goaltender position with another team? Wouldn’t you rather be a starting goalie?”

Really
?
Sometimes these fucking questions are so annoying
. Being a starting goalie would be great, but right now he and Kaden were doing great goaltending in tandem. They both got equal ice time because of it, plus neither of them was labeled ‘backup goalie’. Typically, the backup goaltender got the most criticism, and wasn’t the favorite amongst fans, in his experience anyway.

Dom pasted a grin on his face. God, how he hated these question and answer sessions. Give him an old-fashioned, one-on-one interview with a single reporter any day. “Haha, I want to stay here in Pittsburgh, absolutely. I think Kaden and I make a great duo, and I have no interest in going elsewhere.”

The reporters slowly dwindled, moving on to other players with their questions. It was only practice this morning; there wasn’t much to ask about.

As the last one left the locker room, Paige waved to the guys before following him out. Tyler got up and followed her out of the room, before returning quickly.

“So guys, you all are coming to my bachelor party tomorrow night, right?” Tyler asked, while zipping up his gym bag.

“The big day is coming up soon huh, Ty?” Patrick asked, as he finished putting on his shoes.

“Yep, few weeks.”

“Dom, you’re going to the party, aren’t you?” Kaden asked, his blond hair hanging in his eyes.

Dominic shrugged. “I guess.”

Kaden lowered his voice. “You have to go. Trust me. I backed out of the bachelor party they had for Kris, and they still don’t let me forget it.”

“Yo, K-dog! You coming to celebrate Ty’s freedom? Maybe I should say the demise of his freedom. Or are you backing out of this one, too?” Matt yelled across the locker room.

All eyes focused on Kaden for a moment, except Dom. He was watching the quiet response from the team. It was as if they were giving Matt the attention he craved and ignoring him all at the same time.

“I’ll be there,” Kaden grumbled, his glare meeting Dom’s. Kaden was always a team player, but for some reason he had a low tolerance for Matt.

“Good, I thought you might be getting your hair done or some girly ass thing like that.” Matt smirked.

Tyler passed by Dom’s locker, half dressed. He tapped Dom’s leg as he paused. “Don’t worry, it’ll be a good time.”

Dom thought about how he could back out of going, but knew it wouldn’t work. Not with these guys. Strip clubs weren’t his thing, a bar maybe. He could drink with the best of them. But strippers? It wasn’t like he was going to go home with one; he didn’t need used goods and he certainly never had to pay for it. Even though he was unattached at the moment, that was an option he’d never consider.

His eyes caught the calendar on the wall. Tomorrow was the twentieth. Hailee’s birthday, his high school sweetheart. His one regret. According to her, he had been stifling her.
Since when is wanting to take care of someone for the rest of their lives being stifling?

She had walked out when he’d proposed, leaving a gaping hole in his heart and his trust. He never had understood what he’d done to make her to leave, and he missed her. He hadn’t looked at a girl the same way since.

Hailee was gorgeous — big blue eyes that always seemed to look right through him, long light brown hair, the softest hair he had ever touched, and her lips, they were always light pink from her favorite go-to lip gloss.

That last moment with Hailee, him on one knee, holding out an engagement ring and waiting for her answer was burned into his memory. It still made him sick to his stomach to think about the look on her face, and her answer that tore a hole in his heart.

He’d wanted her and hockey, that was all. Was that really so much to ask for? He wanted a wife that was proud of him and a houseful of mini-hockey players, well, eventually. Hockey was important to him and his family; he had to make sure he lived up to the family tradition. But then Hailee was gone, and before long, he’d been traded to Pittsburgh.

Leaving everything in his past back in Canada was his best move yet. A fresh start with a new team hadn’t healed his trust issues, but who needed trust when he had so many bunnies who didn’t want more than a few hours of his attention? He was a hot new name in the league, and they knew that; a night with him meant serious bunny status for them.

No one back home talked about Hailee, and he was fairly sure they were all under a hush order from her brother. He could be a bully when he wanted; he was large and bulky and could look scary. The one time Dom did try to reach out to her, her number was disconnected. There was no trace of her anywhere — if she’d wanted to get lost, she had sure accomplished that. She was even nonexistent on social media, and nowadays that was hard to do.