Power Play - Brittney Mulliner Page 0,2

the concierge meant. Was I a fan of their hockey team? Why would that matter? My attention went back to the screens, and I found a set of commentators discussing the upcoming finals. The Stanley Cup was taking place.

I read the closed captioning as the pieces fell into place. The Storm were in the finals, and the first game of the series was tomorrow. In Raleigh. No wonder the hotel was so busy, and the wait was so long here. But if I wasn’t a Storm fan, why did he send me here? I twisted in my seat and casually scanned the room as if looking for someone.

Oh no.

Could I still blame sleep deprivation for this oversight? I was in a sea of black and maroon. Utah Fury fans. Everywhere.

I faced forward and hung my head. Maybe if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in graduation, interviews, and moving out, I would have realized sooner what was happening. According to the TV, the Storms hadn’t been to the finals in decades. The city was celebrating and fans of their opponents, the Fury, were arriving in droves.

Great. I wasn’t going to be able to escape this. Everywhere I looked, there were reminders.

The universe was obviously trying to teach me a lesson. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was no other explanation for the crapshoot my life had become. Missing my first day of work, losing my dream job, sitting in a crowded restaurant in a city where I didn’t know a soul, and now the stupid hockey celebration was slapping me across the face.

There was only so much a person could handle before crumbling, and I was toeing that line.

“Here you go.” A plate slid in front of me but I barely got out a thanks before the bartender moved on. I kept my eyes down, forcing myself to take small bites of food. I lost my appetite in my wave of self-pity, but I knew I would end up sick if I didn’t get something down.

If I was going to fix this tomorrow, I needed to take care of myself now. I didn’t have to think yet. No pressure. Just bite, chew, swallow, and repeat.

The tears threatened to make another appearance, but I closed my eyes and fought them back. I would not lose it in public. I didn’t look around, not even to the TVs. My only goal was finishing as much as I could and getting out of there. I could hide in my room and forget the outside world, at least for a few days. I didn’t have enough money in my account to stay long, not without a job.

Another wave of desperation hit. I couldn’t do anything right then. I just had to finish my meal. Then I could freak out.

The energy in the restaurant shifted without warning. I raised my head and looked around. The area near the front doors had fallen silent. I watched with those around me as a group of men, followed by two women, emerged from outside and walked directly toward the bar. The ten or so of them were laughing and chatting, seemingly oblivious to the effect they had on the people in the restaurant.

A few of them wore hats pulled low over their faces, but they were all dressed casually. They were good-looking, but not enough to silence a crowd. I didn’t recognize anyone whose faces I could see as famous so I turned back around in my seat and took a sip of water.

“Not much of a fan?” The bartender was standing in front of me, although his eyes were trailing the men walking behind me.

“No, not really.” Once I was, but definitely not now.

“If you’re not in town for the game, what brings you here?” he asked.

It seemed strange for him to be making small talk with me since he hadn’t paused on any one person for longer than a few seconds since I sat down. Then I realized he was still watching the men who had settled at a large table behind me, and I must be sitting at his best view.

“I was supposed to start a job this morning, but I took a wrong turn in Ohio, at least I think it was Ohio. Anyway, I missed my first day and they fired me. So, I’m in a new city where I don’t know anyone and don’t have a job.”

His eyes flickered to mine. “You sure I can’t get you anything else to