The Inside Edge: Chapter Nine

Punching numbers into her keyboard, Brianne’s eyes glared at her computer screen. Beside her on the desk was the employee schedule. Gritting her teeth as she attempted mental acrobats to give everyone their requested number of shifts and sections, she felt the beginnings of a headache beating against her temples.

            A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

            Scrunching up her nose, Brianne quickly hit delete. “Fuck.”

            “Okay.” With a creak Shana turned toward Brianne. Her finely arched right eyebrow rose in patent amusement as she glanced over at her general manager. “What’s wrong?”

            Blinking up and over at Shana, Brianne shook her head. “I hate this stupid schedule.”

            “Right.” Shana nodded. “As I’m well aware.”

            Brianne hardly paid her attention. Lowering her head, she glanced back down at the request off sheet. She was just in time to watch Shana’s long fingers slowly scoot it out of Brianne’s reach. “Hey—” lifting her head, Brianne gave her second-in-command a dark look.    

            “You hate doing this. We discussed it a couple weeks ago…after you asked me to take the task over.” Shana spoke slowly, her lips pulling up into a telling grin. “So again, what’s bugging you?”

            Nice doesn’t enter into it.

            The sound of Mitch’s voice ringing inside her head had Brianne glowering. Snapping forward, Brianne snatched back the request off sheet. “Nothing is wrong. And you have a lot going on today so I thought I’d help you out.”

            Shana whistled. “Might as well. I think if the staff saw you now they’d run for cover.”

            “Oh, stop.”

            “I’m serious.”

            Sighing, Brianne shook her head. “Let’s just remember who is who’s boss here, okay?”
            Laughing softly, Shana didn’t seem overly worried about the veiled threat. Brianne was silently thankful for that.

            Another sigh.

            “Okay.” Pushing back her chair, Shana rose to her feet. “If you’re not going to talk about it, then I’m leaving.” Grabbing up her own paperwork, she stalked toward the doorway of their small office. “One more pathetic sigh like that I’m going to scream.”

            “Shana…”

            “I’ll be down in the gallery.”

            At the groan of the door opening behind her, Brianne felt her neck fold. “I’m sorry.”

            Pausing midway out the threshold, Shana waited. “And?”
            Nice doesn’t enter into it. She’s our secret weapon.

            The words rankled. Brianne wasn’t entirely sure why.

            Because she felt used.

            Well, no… that wasn’t quite true. Mitch had been pretty upfront about the help her presence was supplying the team and she’d been proud of her part in that. But she was more than just a weapon, wasn’t she? The way he’d put it, she was little more than a convenient piece of equipment, expendable…cheap. Like she was good for one thing. And if or when that stopped working…

            Well, then she’d have no place being there.

            Her invitation–her welcome–was entirely conditional.   

            Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Brianne shook her head. “It’s kind of hard to explain. But you’re right. I’m in a grumpy mood.”

            Shana nodded silently. “Anything I can do?”
            Brianne shrugged. “Try to put up with me?”

            Shana grinned as she shut the door. Leaning up against it, she grinned. “Oh, I think I might be able to manage that.”

            Brianne turned back to her computer.

            Okay, maybe she did feel a little used.

            And inexplicably hurt with it.

***

Still, Brianne refused to take it out on the hockey team. They hadn’t more-or-less relegated her to the usefulness of a tool without thoughts to her feelings. When Sunday afternoon came around, she was out on the ice and warming up before the first of the boys arrived.

            “Ms. Kelling!”

            “Hey, Ms. K.”

            Turning her head carefully at their stampeding entrance shortly thereafter, Brianne lifted up a hand in a wave. Navigating slowly to the edge of the boards, she came to a stuttered stop before them.

            “You’re getting it!”

            “Slowly but surely,” Brianne muttered, but her demure reply was quickly cast aside when she stopped to give them a sweeping bow.

            “Okay. So we got you a stick that’s a bit shorter this time.”

            Righting herself, Brianne’s lips twisted. “You guys are really stuck on this, huh? Teaching me how to play hockey?”
            “Well, really how much fun can it be, circling the rink over and over again aimlessly?” Cory countered, hands coming to rest on his hips.

            When he stood like that he looked so much like his father.  

            Out of the corner of her eyes, Brianne swept the space for the sight of Mitch’s tall, broad-shouldered frame. She didn’t see him. Feeling her own shoulders loosening, she spared Cory a quick glance. “Okay, when you put it like that…”

            “Plus, the stick might help you improve your stopping speed. Something to support your balance,” George volunteered.

            Chuckling, Brianne held up both hands. “Okay, okay. You don’t need to convince me. Let’s get this thing started…”

            Forty minutes later, her face an unnatural shade of pink and her short hair plastered with sweat to her forehead, Brianne shuffled tiredly off the rink. Exiting one of the side-doors alongside the boards, she was hobbling down the rubber matt toward the benches when she saw him.

            Or more aptly, when he saw her.

            Brianne had fully intended to ignore him. Sitting down on first row of the long wooden seats that wrapped around one side of the spectator’s area, Brianne bent down to start tugging her laces free when she saw his shadow fall over her.

            “Tiring, isn’t it?” Mitch asked, coming to lean up against the outside of the boards. “The boys were running your ragged.”

            Snapping her head up so hard and quick that a jolt of nerves spasmed in her neck, Brianne shot him a scathing smile. “Well…that’s the gig, isn’t it?”

            Mitch’s eyebrows furrowed. “Skating?”
            “Being used as hockey equipment. Gets a bit banged up, but as long as it’s effective.”

            “What are you talking about?” To his credit, Mitch seemed genuinely confused.

            Turning back to her ice-skates, Brianne’s fingers yanked viciously as she undid the laces on her other skate. “I mean, technically you didn’t call me a piece of equipment. You had enough tact for that. I suppose I should be grateful…” Easing her feet free, she wiggled her toes unconsciously as she reached over for the gym bag she’d left on the bench when she’d first arrived.

            “Did you fall out there? Hit your head?”

            “Funny man.”
            “I’m serious,” Mitch responded. Pushing off the boards, he took a couple of steps toward her. Brianne, however, kept her eyes focused on the task at hand as she quickly slipped her feet inside her sneakers and tossed her skates inside the bag.

            “No, I didn’t fall on my head,” she assured him. “But maybe that’s an idea. That’ll really get the guys to rally together as they try to staunch the bleeding!” Laughing meanly, Brianne stood up so suddenly that she almost collided with Mitch. Swinging her bag over one shoulder, she spared him a mean grin.

            “Whoa. Hey…” Reaching out, Mitch’s fingers curled against her wrist forestalling Brianne’s headlong rush. “Want to fill me in on what’s got you so pissed off?”

            Whipping her head back around, Brianne’s eyes flashed with the hurt she’d tried so hard to disguise. “Just trying to adjust to my position here. A weapon, I believe you said?”

            Mitch had the grace to look away from her at that. “I’m sorry.” Letting go of her arm, Mitch sighed. “I didn’t mean…”

            “For me to overhear your words?”

            Snorting, Mitch shrugged. “Well, yeah. But I also didn’t mean to make you feel…”

            “Small? Like I’m nothing more than a page out of your playbook?”

            He nodded. “Definitely, I didn’t mean to do that.”

            “I like those boys,” Brianne informed him. Pointing her finger toward the ice ruthlessly, she gestured toward the team.

            Mitch’s eyes, those green eyes were steady on her face. “I know. And they like you. They trust you.”

            “I’m not sure I trust you though.”

            “Oh, dammit,” Mitch swore and then the fingers of one hand were on her shoulder. “That’s not… I spoke poorly.”

            Brianne snorted.

            “You’re important to this team. You, just by being you, are making this team something that no one else has been able to achieve. That’s what I meant. And you’d better believe that’s a hell of a weapon.”

            Brianne hated the heated awareness of those fingers against her shoulder, hated how much she loved hearing his apology, knowing that he cared that he’d hurt her feelings (that or he just didn’t want to lose his secret weapon—no, she thrust the thought away as mean).

            “And,” Mitch added, and the pressure of those fingers tightened just a bit, “I think I’ve made that clear to you before now.”

            Brianne nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess you have…”

            Mitch nodded. “And I remember you telling me that you were happy to help in any way you could.”

            At the words, Brianne felt an itchy sort of discomfort spread over her person—the kind of slithering feeling that accompanies the realization that perhaps, just maybe you overreacted…and following that, the terribly anxiety of wondering why…

            Taking a deep breath, Brianne’s gaze lowered to the rubber matting at her feet. “Th-that’s true. And I meant it.”

            “I know you did.”

            “I just…” Hitching up one shoulder, Brianne tried to find a logical reason for her reaction. Suddenly, everything she’d felt moments ago seemed bloated, overdone. “I guess, I just felt a bit used. Hearing it that way.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            Peeking up at him, Brianne tried to smile. “Me too. For overreacting.”

            Mitch smiled. “Okay. We good?”
            Following his lead, Brianne felt her own lips pull upward but still, she experienced an unexpected hollowness at his words, the cavalier air about them. He wouldn’t lose sleep over this conversation. She wasn’t sure about herself, though. “Yeah. We’re good.”

            “Okay.” Letting go over her shoulder, Mitch took a step backward.  

            Shifting slightly, her bag still slung over one arm, Brianne walked toward the large doors that would take her into the main lobby of the arena. Only, halfway there, Mitch called out to her. “Hey. I almost forgot.”

            Turning around, Brianne wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it wasn’t to see a stapled schedule held out in front of her. “In case…you know, in case you get the chance to catch another game.”

            Taking the offered item, Brianne nodded. “Yeah?”

            “The boys would love that.”

            Brianne stared down at the listing of dates and times and locations on the copy paper before her. She kept her eyes steady on the sheet. Would he love that too?

            And for God’s sake, why did she care?

            “Yeah,” she said instead, “I would like that too.”