Lindsey: Sure.
She finishes with a crying, laughing emoji because she knows me. I’m not that guy, but that’s what I let people believe. It’s easier that way. I don’t get hurt that way.
5
ZANDERS
“Here we are with the notorious duo from the Chicago Raptors, Eli Maddison and Evan Zanders,” the reporter from the Chicago Tribune states. His voice is wafting through the speakerphone as we sit in a random conference room in Denver’s arena, pre-game.
I look over to Maddison, the only other person in this room. “Notorious duo,” I silently mouth.
Maddison rolls his eyes, but his chest heaves with a quiet laugh.
“Maddison, congratulations on your newborn son.”
“Thanks, Jerry.” My best friend leans forward, so the phone in the center of the conference table finds his voice more clearly. “My wife and I are stoked to add another to the Maddison family.”
“And Ella? How’s she liking being a big sister?”
“She loves it,” Maddison laughs. “She’s a fiery little one, and she’s stoked to have a sibling to boss around in the future.”
“Well, we can’t wait to see you, your wife, and the kids at the next home game in Chicago.”
This is typically how the conversation goes. Reporters start off with all sweet, sentimental stuff with Maddison, then move on to me.
“And EZ,” Jerry begins, using my nickname.
“How we doing, boss?”
“Doing good. Doing good. Not as good as you are, I assume. Your mug was plastered online last week with your latest flavor leaving the arena after your home opener. Someone we should know about?”
Why these reporters feel the need to constantly talk about my sex life is beyond me. But my persona perceived in the media makes me a hell of a lot of money, so I let it slide. Though, I have no idea who he’s referring to from last week. At a certain point, they tend to blur together.
“Come on, Jerry,” I tease. “It’s me you’re talking to. When has there ever been someone you need to know about?”
“My bad,” he laughs. “I almost forgot I’m talking to Evan Zanders here. You probably haven’t cared about a woman for more than twenty-four hours since your mother.”
My eyes dart to Maddison’s at the mention of my mother. No one knows about my family situation outside of my family and his. I pay good money to my PR team to keep it that way.
Maddison gives me an apologetic half-smile.
“Sounds about right.” I force a laugh into the speakerphone, hating the way the words taste as they come off my tongue.
“Jerry, let’s talk hockey,” Maddison quickly changes the subject.
“Yes, let’s. You two have quite the team behind you this year. How do we feel about the Cup?”
“This is our year,” Maddison states.
Nodding in agreement, I add, “No doubt about it, we believe the group of guys wearing a Raptors jersey this year has the potential to be holding the Stanley Cup by the end of the season.”
Maddison and I look across the conference room table at each other, laser-focused. When it comes to hockey, and especially this season, we don’t fuck around. This is our year to win it all. At twenty-eight, Maddison and I are both going into our seventh NHL season, and we finally have all the pieces to bring it home.
“Zanders the enforcer, do you think you’ll ease up on the penalty box minutes this year?”
“Depends.” I lean back in my chair.
“On?”
“If these other teams play clean, I will too. But if you come after my guys, I’ll be the one you’re answering to. The penalty box doesn’t scare me. That’s what I’m on this team for, to protect my guys and make sure they don’t get hurt. But judging by my last six seasons, I can’t imagine this year being any different.”
“You do love yourself a good hockey brawl,” Jerry laughs.
Well, he’s not wrong there.
“And what do you have to lose?” he continues. “You throw your punches, get your minutes in the box, then leave with a different woman on your arm each night. We all know you, EZ. You don’t give a shit about anyone other than yourself. And that’s why Chicago loves you. You’re the biggest asshole in the league. But you’re our asshole.”
Maddison leans back in his chair, his brows furrowed, and arms crossed over his chest. He shakes his head in frustration, but he knows how this works. We’ve been doing it for years.
I take a deep breath, plastering on a smile even though the reporter can’t see it. “You got that right!”