Royally Pucked (Anderson Series #7)

Briggs

"What the hell Briggs," I hear our goalie shout at me as they put goes flying past the side of his head.

"What you have a helmet on and you are the goalie Kevin," I shout back as I get to the back of the line and get ready to run the drill again.

To be quite honest I am am royally pissed off this morning. My agent Frank Stabler called me this morning while I was balls deep in a stripper I met last night to inform me I will be meeting a publicist after practice today.

This is apparently to clean up my image in the public eye. You know what I say to that. Fuck the public, I am not here to please them. I am a twenty-six year old man who can score more goals than the average joe and makes more money than I know what to do with, so who cares what people think of me.

Frank so nicely informed me that not only does he care what my public image is, but so do my sponsors and team management. Apparently I am not so family friendly and parents don't want their kids idolizing me.

Not my problem, maybe parents should do something worth while so that their kids would idolize them instead of me. I never asked to be role model.

It's my lines turn again to run the drill that our coach has set out for us. I take my place in the centre position with John on my right and Steve to my left. Coach blows his whistle and we are off like a well oiled machine down the ice and past my teammates on defense. I skate towards the net and just for good measure I ping one off of Kevin's stupid mask.

"Seriously Maddison you need to stop," he says coming out of the net and getting in my face.

"Aww Kev, did I hurt your feelings? Maybe being a goalie just isn't for you if you can't stand to get hit with the puck," I taunt at him.

He goes to come at me and John and Coach immediately break us apart.

"Briggs that is enough. Your ass is skating twenty laps hard around the rink and then hit the showers," Coach yells at me.

I take off and skate as hard as I can along the outside of the rink while my teammates finish up running the last drill. My mind still raging with having to meet with this publicist.

I finish my laps just as the last of the team is heading off the ice. I am hot, sweaty and just wanting to go home and possibly call up that girl from last night to come over and finish what we started this morning, but no I have to go to this pointless meeting with this woman who thinks she is going to get me to change.

I sit down at my locker and start to get undressed. I throw all my equipment in the bottom of my locker and grab my towel and body wash.

"What the hell is up your ass today?" Steve asks me.

"I have a meeting with this publicist after I finish here. Apparently my image is getting me into trouble with the public," I say washing my hair.

"I could have told you that man," he says laughing.

"I honestly could give two fucks what people think about me, but Frank says some of my sponsors want out if I don't clean up my image a bit and management is on the same page."

"Well just tow the company line for a bit to make them happy and then once the dust settles go back to your old ways. Do you know who they brought in to help?" he asks.

"Some woman named Amelia Anderson. Apparently she is the best to handle situations like mine. Whatever that means."

Steve gives a low whistle. "Wow they did bring in the big guns. Amelia is a bad ass publicist. Good luck with her."

"I'll get her to quit. I give it two weeks tops and she'll be running for the hills," I say smiling.

"I dunno man. I would hate to see management trade my best friend. Who am I going to get to be my wingman if you get traded?"