Page 36 of Puck, Marry, Kill

“Have you now?” Dad says. The typing stops, and I hear squeaking as though he’s leaning back in his chair to give me his full attention. “You never want anything to do with hockey. Why now?”

It’s a fair point. I never go to games, am standoffish to players, and only show up when there’s free food and drinks to be had. “The baby gibbon? It was born to Caprice, my favorite animal in the entire zoo. We’re raising funds by holding a naming contest for her. The highest bid gets to name the baby, within reason. No Gibbon McGibbonface or Harambaby or corporate names. I want her to have an appropriatename, something that reflects the importance of her birth. If we have a big turnout for the party, we’ll raise more funds, and it’s more likely she’ll get a good name.”

Dad is quiet for a moment and I honestly think he’s going to laugh at me. He doesn’t care about the zoo, or animals, or their names. He cares about me, to a point, but I’m not sure if his love runs deep enough for an ask like this.

“Do you have anyone in particular in mind?”

“Really?” I shout in surprise. My feet take me on a happy dance tour around the break area where zoo employees can have lunch without being interrupted by guests.

“Tell me quickly before I change my mind. Who do you want?”

This feels like a trap. But I do have a few people I’d like to come to the party. For a multitude of different reasons.

“I’d love for the team favorites to come—Mike Kipson, Wayne Anderson, Paulie Pacholek, Lynn Sabine. And Dominic Lee since he’s new to Blizzard but has a fanbase from the Hawks. Maybe one or two of the rookies?” I inhale and add, “And you, of course.”

I don’t think Dad will come. But I tack him on at the last minute as an olive branch since he’s even considering this idea. If he comes, great. If he just sends a check, that’s good for the zoo. And if he agrees to send the rest of the players, Dominic can start to improve their team dynamics.

“Huh,” Dad scoffs. “I wouldn’t have thought you even knew the players’ names.”

“They’re popular players, Dad. And I’ve met most of them.” I intentionally don’t mention that I met Dominic at this year’s preseason get-together, and definitely don’t mention that we’ve had some further contact since then, knowing Dad would not approve. For all his faults, Dad wouldn’t want me to date a hockey player. He knows how they are, after all.

“I don’t know if those guys are gonna want to spend their free time doing charity work for the zoo.”

I laugh lightly. “Maybe not, but they’ll do whatever their coach tells them to do.”

“I canaskthem,” he says. “But I can’t make any promises. Union bargaining agreement, you know.”

It’ll have to be enough. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Are you a witch?”

Seeing Dominic’s name—well, technically it’s stillHockey Coach—pop up on my phone screen already had me smiling. His teasing words add a bit of giddiness to the warmth blooming in my chest. I’m pretty sure I know why he’s calling. Or at least I think I do.

I smile, twisting and wiggling in delight as I stir tonight’s gourmet dinner of spaghetti and meat sauce. “Mayyyybe,” I singsong.

“Coach called me and a bunch of other guys into his office today. I thought I was going to get shipped off to Canada. Or cussed out, at a minimum. But do you know what he said?”

A laugh pops out. “Good job?” I guess. Dominic makes anuh-uhsound. “Thank you?” Not it either. “You’re all fired?” Okay, that one might actually happen so I don’t laugh too hard at that possibility.

“It seems there’s a very special appearance he wants us to make. Guess where?”

“Hmm, I’m sure I have no idea,” I tease.

“Your zoo, you damn witch,” Dominic exclaims, making it sound like the highest praise. Raising his voice into a fair estimation of a truck stop diner waitress, he says, “Ding! One team-building exercise, coming right up.” Then he laughs, sounding genuinely light and happy. “Thank you.”

I preen, knowing he can’t see me. Probablybecausehe can’t see the effect his words have on me. I’m glad to be able to help him, and it will actually help the zoo too.

“So you’re all coming?”

“Apparently,” he laughs. “Anderson and Kipson were pretty pissed off about it. Coach didn’t give them a choice, though. Told Kipson to quit moping and told Anderson that he could stand to give his dick the day off and press some palms to earn some money and goodwill for his girl.”

His girl? Me?

The smile stealing across my face now is for an entirely different reason. Surprisingly, it’s for my father. I asked for this favor because of Dominic, never dreaming it might actually improve things between me and Dad. But maybe this team-building thing can build more than one team.

“No mention of union bargaining agreements?” I ask, and Dom laughs.

“No, why?”