Rinkside Remedy

I stood frozen in the doorway, my brain scrambling for explanations. "What's... what's going on?" I managed to stammer.

Zane leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms like he owned the place which, considering his family's connections, he kind of did. "Relax, janitor," he said with a smirk. "You're not getting fired.... yet."

"Zane," Coach warned, cutting off whatever snarky comment was about to follow. "I asked him here because you insisted. Care to explain why?"

Zane straightened up, his smirk fading into something more serious. "I think we need him," he said simply.

Coach Eric glanced at me, clearly as surprised as I was. "You think we need a steward?"

"No," Zane said, rolling his eyes. "Not as a steward. I need him for my physical therapy or something."

"A therapist," Coach repeated flatly, as if the idea was absurd. "We already have Nathan and Jordan on our staff. We don't need to add another one on our payroll."

"I want him on the team," Zane said firmly as he leaned forward slightly. "Nathan doesn't do it for me. And Jordan is just plain annoying. But this guy's got something."

Coach turned his gaze on me, folding his arms. "Is this true? You've got some kind of medical training?"

"Not exactly," I said, swallowing hard.

Coach frowned and shifted his attention back to Zane. "You can't just decide to add someone to the team. That's not how this works."

"Then take it out of my paycheck," Zane said, unflinching. "I don't care."

Coach sighed as if they already had this conversation before. "Fine," he relented. "We'll figure something out." He turned back to me. "What's your name again?"

"Christian," I said quickly.

"And what exactly do you do?"

"I help people heal through massage," I explained. "It's called hilot, an ancient form of massage therapy."

Coach shot Zane a side-eye. "Massage therapy?" he repeated, his tone making it clear he thought I was full of crap.

After a long pause, he added, "Maybe we can hire you as an on-call recreational therapist."

It was a polite way of saying: 'We'll never call you, but hey, stay available.'

I hesitated, nerves twisting in my stomach, but desperation pushed me forward. "I'd really prefer something more permanent," I said, my voice coming out stronger than I expected.

Coach raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my boldness.

"I can do other things." I added quickly. " I'll help with the equipment, water, whatever you need. I just... I need something steady. Something to pay the bills." I said, my eyes locking with Zane's.

It felt like begging, and I hated it. But I had no choice. My pride wasn't going to pay the rent.

Coach glanced at Zane, waiting for his response.

Zane leaned back again, watching the exchange with mild amusement. "It's what the boy wants," he said, almost lazily.

Coach ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was rethinking all his career choices. "Fine," he said at last. "I guess I can assign you to help with equipment during home games. Do you know how to play hockey?"

"No," I replied, feeling embarrassed. Honestly, I didn't even understand the mechanics or how the tournaments worked.

Coach didn't seem thrilled, but he tried his best to hide it. "What about your availability? I hear you're a student?"

"I'm free Tuesdays and Thursdays. As for MWF, I can work from 3 PM onwards."

"I guess we can work with that," Coach said, his tone flat and clearly unimpressed.

"And by the way," I added quickly, "I can only work 20 hours per week due to my study permit restrictions."

I felt like I was adding more and more demands that only made them less happy.

"Alright. We're still in the regular season, so at least you can help out during home games."

"Sorry to interrupt," Zane suddenly interjected, his tone bored. "Am I still needed here? Can I leave?"

Coach glanced at him. "Yeah. I just need to talk to this guy."

"I'm leaving," Zane said flatly, then walked out of the room. The atmosphere shifted immediately. I couldn't shake the feeling that Coach wasn't too pleased with how things were going.

Coach studied me for a moment before breaking the silence. "I don't know how you managed to convince Zane, but what exactly is it that you do?" His tone had shifted to something more investigative.

"I help relieve pain and speed up recovery," I explained. "I know you already have athletic therapists on your payroll, but if you need help with anything else, I can do that too. I'm a quick learner."

Coach didn't respond right away. He just looked at me, evaluating my words. Then, with a heavy sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if the whole situation was already starting to give him a headache.

"Okay. Fine. But this is temporary, understood?" he said, locking eyes with me. "If you screw this up, you're out. And if you so much as breathe wrong around the players, you're done. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I said quickly, nodding so vigorously I almost thought my head would fall off.

Coach gave a curt nod. "I'll send a recommendation to my manager. Can I get your contact details?"

I finally exhaled in relief and gave him the information.

"Make sure to check your phone or email," Coach added. "Someone from onboarding might contact you soon."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling like I might just survive this after all. There was also some satisfaction in knowing my manager wasn't happy about this. He clearly hadn't planned on keeping me especially since I hadn't kissed his ass even though I always did my job well.

On my way out of the arena, I spotted Zane in the hallway. I approached him.

"Thanks for helping me out." I said.

Zane barely glanced at me as he shrugged. His expression stoic as ever. "No problem. I just returned the favor."

"So, that means the massages helped?" I asked.

"Don't let it go to your head."

I blinked, unsure how to respond. "Thanks, I guess?"

"Don't mention it," he said quickly, already hurrying off. Then, just before he disappeared down the hallway, he turned back to call, "Oh, and Christian?"

"Yeah?"

"I really hope you can deliver what you promised." he warned.

I watched him walk away. Somehow, against all odds, I'd just become an unofficial member of the Toronto Renegades.

Now, I just had to figure out how to keep it that way.