I removed my helmet and peeled down my outer layer, which was soaked in sweat. I snagged a bottle of water and drained it, then grabbed another and plopped down at the end of the bench.
Jax remained on the ice, holding a clipboard. “Listen up.”
Chatter stopped.
“Tonight at Xcel we’re in the smaller locker rooms designated home. Eastern Conference players, EC for short, will be in the visitors’ overflow locker room.” He looked at me. “Will it be an issue for you, being in our locker room?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” Jax moved on to the next item on the agenda. “The uniforms aren’t done now, but they will be hanging in your locker spaces by game time. Just a reminder that we don’t have equipment managers, so bring your own gear: sticks, tapes, wax, et cetera.”
“Yeah, don’t forget your skates, Nils, like you did on that trip to the kids’ hockey camp in Calgary.”
Connor “Nils” Nilsin flipped off John “JK” Kingston and I remembered they’d been teammates for a time in Anaheim.
“The official program inserts will also be done by game time. During both breaks between periods, we will be set up to sign autographs on the inserts and provide photo ops for game attendees.”
“Does that mean we’re expected to wear our team jersey for the photo ops? Or are we expected to be in game day attire?” McCoy asked.
“Better be two sets of jerseys in that case, ’cause ain’t no one wants to get close to us after we’ve played in them,” Patrick “Parn” Parnell said.
“Eh, spray a little Febreze and they’ll be just fine,” Rexall said.
I snickered. He sounded just like my former teammate Dixie.
“You’ll be in fresh jerseys.” Jax grinned. “You’ll also be on club level during the game.”
That was a bonus.
“That’s all I’ve got,” Jax said. “If anything changes, I’ll text you. So I’ll see you at the Xcel players’ entrance at five.”
The guys headed to the changing room.
I stood. Before I made it halfway across the ice, Jax said, “Gabi. Hold up.”
“Yes?”
“Look, you being in the men’s locker room isn’t ideal. But the other option was to have you share another locker room with SanSimeon-Wipf.”
“Hard pass. I’d rather be stark naked center ice of the Xcel Center with a sold-out crowd than spend one second in an enclosed space with Asswipf.”
“I figured. But to be honest, I’d feel more comfortable if there was another woman in the locker room looking out for you.”
“You probably have a point.” I thought about it for a moment. “How about Margene?”
“Perfect. I’ll tell her.”
* * *
* * *
I spent part of the afternoon prepping for my Friday interview and the remainder indulging in my pregame ritual of playing solitaire games on my phone.
On a whim and since the weather was decent, I decided to wear one of my new chic outfits to the arena. The gray wrap pants, paired with a peach-colored lacy camisole layered under the cream blouse with the sheer chiffon sleeves and the split ruffled collar. Since I probably wouldn’t be in regular shoes for very long, I tossed the pumps in my travel bag to change into in the parking lot.
I’d packed my gear bag as soon as I’d arrived home from practice. Unlike NHL players, more often than not, women hockey players were in charge of hauling our own equipment. Several years ago I’d customized a suit bag for my gear. Long enough to contain my sticks with a separate zipped compartment on the bottom for my skates, tape and wax. Pads, socks, helmet and gloves filled the remainder of the bag space with one small slot in the top for a purse. It was heavy, but I’d added a wider, stronger metal hook on the top for ease of carrying.
Jax and Margene waited at the entrance for me with my stadium pass.
Margene whistled. “Lookit you, hot stuff. Damn, Gabi. You’re quite the fashion plate.”
I laughed. “This old thing?” But I was pleased that she’d noticed.
“Give Margene your bag.”
“That’s fine, Jax, I can haul my own gear.” Even if I was wearing heels, I was still twenty-five years younger than Margene.
“As I’m aware. But Channel 9 Sports wants to interview you.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
My stomach tightened. “Why me?”
“You’re the first woman playing in a sanctioned NHL exhibition.” He smirked at me. “Although you don’t look like a hockey player right now.”
“Har har.”
“Come on, they’re set up over here.”
I followed Jax around the corner.
Lucas Griswold, who was currently in the hot seat, stumbled a bit over his