Off the Record (Off #3)(3)
I pushed away from the door and headed back to my bedroom to change. I was going to a party with my friend, Emily Burnham. It was actually sort of a working party for me. She had managed to get me an interview with Lincoln Caldwell, goalie for the New York Rangers. The Post has me working on lifestyle pieces right now and when I pitched the idea for this story, my editor jumped all over it. I wanted to show what a day in the life of New York’s hottest sports star was like. I ran the idea by Emily and with just one short phone call, she had Lincoln’s agreement. It clearly helped that her brother, Ryan, plays for the Rangers and that her boyfriend, Nix, is Lincoln’s brother.
So Emily is picking me up to take me over to Lincoln’s condo. He is throwing an end of season, beach-themed barbeque for his entire team and their families. Lincoln suggested doing the interview there, in a casual atmosphere, and so I could see what the Rangers were like when they shed their pads and skates.
It’s a warm, day so I take off my reporter uniform—aka pencil skirt and pressed, button down shirt—and opt for a pair of shorts, a cute halter top and sandals. I touch up my makeup, which basically consists of some eye shadow and a little mascara. I disregard the fifteen tubes of lip gloss in my drawer as I don’t like the way it makes my lips sticky. I pick up a tube of Burt’s Bees Lip Balm and stuff it in my front pocket. I think briefly about putting on some sunscreen because my skin is pale and burns easy, but then easily dismiss it. The afternoon sun won’t be too harsh and I’ll just make sure I sit in the shade.
As I wait for Emily to arrive, I go through my notes on Lincoln Caldwell. He’s originally from Hoboken, New Jersey and played college hockey at the University of Minnesota. He was a first round draft pick at the end of his junior year and has been New York’s starting goalie since then. He’s twenty-four, devastatingly handsome and single. He’s every New York woman’s wet dream. Hell, he’s my wet dream, too. My heart may be dead but my body isn’t.
Looking at the glossy photo his PR rep sent to me this week, it’s hard not to get sucked into his looks. He wears his brown, sun streaked hair short on the sides but a little longer on top and he has it flipped in about a dozen different angles across the top of his head. His eyes are hazel, reflecting greens, golds and browns that are surrounded by freakishly, thick eyelashes. He has a scar than runs along the bottom of his chin and I wonder if it’s from a hockey injury or did he fall out of a tree when he was a little boy. I jot a note down so I can remember to ask him, but it certainly does nothing to diminish his sex appeal.
The lobby buzzer rings and I throw my notepad, recorder and pen in my purse. I perch my sunglasses on top of my head and make my way down to meet Emily.
Why in the world did I even consider throwing a party for my entire team and their families? It’s a known fact that the host ends up working his ass off the entire party and doesn’t have any time to enjoy himself. When I haven’t been chasing down extra ketchup, hamburger buns and ice creams for the kids, I’ve been making sure the beer stays stocked and the food keeps hot. I don’t think I’ve stopped running around since the party started two hours ago.
I glance around at all of the people and my heart swells a little. I love watching my team having fun, particularly those that have families. It’s f*cking awesome being able to get together, away from the pressures and stress of the season. I’m fortunate that I get along so well with most of my teammates. There’s a few...not so much, but oh, well. Today is about enjoying everyone.
The Rangers did well this year, although I’m still bitter we didn’t advance higher than the second round of the playoffs. But that fact does nothing but fuel my resolve to work harder on my training over the summer. There is always room for improvement in my book.
I spy my brother, Nix, sitting in a chair, watching the festivities and enjoying a cold brewskie. Nix isn’t much of a social animal. He only agreed to come to this party because I told him everyone’s family would be there and that guilted him enough into coming.
Grabbing a bottle of beer from a nearby cooler, I walk over to him, keeping my head down so I don’t get stopped. I need to relax for just a few minutes.
“What’s up?” Nix says as I plop down in a chair beside him.
“Just want to chill for a few minutes. This is the first freakin’ beer I’ve had all afternoon.”
“Well, Cheers!” Nix holds his beer up and I clang mine against it.
“Where’s Emily?”
Nix glances at his watch. “She should be here soon. She’s driving in from the city.”
“So, you two have been going pretty strong for a while now. When are you going to pop the big question?”
I watch as Nix’s eyes warm up and he gets a silly smile on his face. My brother...the tough, war hardened Marine has been brought to his knees by a woman. Who would have thought?
“I don’t know. When the time is right, I guess.”
I punch him lightly in the arm. “The time is right, dude. No sense in waiting.”
Nix takes a huge pull on his beer. “I want to ask her dad first. So it won’t happen until I can talk to him.”
“So pick up the phone and call him.”
Nix shakes his head adamantly. “No way, man. That shit has to be done in person.”
“Really?” I ask with curiosity. I know nothing about how proposals work, and frankly, I really don’t care. That’s not on my agenda for years to come, if at all. Still, I can’t help but ask, “Is there some etiquette rule that says it has to be in person?”