"Dude, slide another one down to Venturi, man deserves it after tonight, doesn't he?" Matt, his left wing, is shouting toward the bartender. Then there is another beer in his fist, a girl clutching at his wrist, and that's the last thing he really remembers about that night.

He wakes up the next morning in an empty bed, figuring that one of the boys called him a cab home and he'll have to trek back to the bar later on to retrieve his car. He rolls over, after a glance at the clock, intending to sleep through the last fifteen minutes before his alarm goes off. But he lands in something that crinkles suspiciously like notebook paper. Groggily, he pulls the page out from underneath his shoulder.

In loopy, fairly ditzy handwriting, it reads: "Lovely to get to know you last night, Der. Hope we can do each other again sometime." She's also included her phone number and several hearts drawn after her name.

Right, he thinks as he falls back asleep, that'll be the day.

He wakes up the second time when he's back in the locker room, half his practice gear on, trying to lace up his left skate on his right foot. Matt slams down next to him on the bench. Derek drops his laces, hand finding its way up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Rough night, Venturi?"

"You could say that," Derek sighs, and looks up at Matt, "and you would know. I seem to remember a very busty redhead capturing your attention after I lost count of the beers."

"Well, you know," Matt bumps Derek on the shoulder, "Maybe I didn't have the moves on the ice last night, but she sure wasn't complaining about the moves in the bed."

"Spare me the dirty details, Matt. I can barely keep down my breakfast as is."

"Oh, you're just sore cause you couldn't seal the deal with Blondie."

"Shove off, Matt," Derek pulls the note out of his bag at his feet and passes it to Matt. "I scored all right, and I got the winning goal."

Matt whistles low in his throat, "Gonna see her again?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "Please, I'd like a bit more of a challenge, wouldn't you?"

"I dunno," Matt disagrees, "with an ass like hers?"

"Run of the mill, Matty. Now shove off for real this time, get your gear on."

"Venturi," Coach barks from the doorway of the locker room. "Ass in my office, we got something to discuss."

Derek bends back over to resume trying to lace up his skates, "Yeah, in a sec, Coach."

"Now, D," Coach insists, "Ya don't need your skates."

…

Kate and Casey are at the coffee pot closest to their section in the last few minutes before they're expected to be at their desks.

"It's your last day with the priss tennis player today, isn't it?

"And a happy day it is, too," Casey takes a sip of her coffee and then starts, "Time flies when you're having fun. We better get back to our desks. They'll be coming through with the morning roundup soon."

Kate sighs, "You're right. Back to the grind."

"See you for lunch?"

Kate nods and walks the other direction.

Two minutes back at her station and Casey's putting the final touches on her portrait of Madison Grace, Connecticut's finest to hit the court since, well, since the finest last season. Casey rolls her eyes, no. That wouldn't do as an ending. The magazine would never forgive her for that.

"McDonald," her boss, snaps on his way past her desk, "come with me."

"Yeah, I'll meet you in your office, Tom." Casey grabs her notebook off the corner of her desk and tucks a pen into the ponytail at the back of her head. She rushes after her boss and follows him into his office.

"Can you get the door, McDonald?"

"Sure," she obliges and sits herself across the desk from him. "I was just putting the finishing touches on the story about Ms. Grace if that's what you're looking for."

"Hmm?" Tom looks up from his notes and meets her eyes, "Oh, that. Yes, I'm sure you did a lovely job spinning her wealthy upbringing into a story for the ages," he smiles. "I wish I could say I was sorry for sticking you with that one, but, you do write them so well, so I'm not."

Casey smiles, "I understand, Tom."

"Well, anyway," he clasps his hands across the top of his desk. "I've got your next assignment. The city's getting a new hockey player, and they want a whole profile done on him. He's got quite a record, and they're very pleased to have him."

Casey can't help it, she laughs.

"Sorry, is that not going to work?"

"No, Tom, you misunderstand. I'm just so glad to get out of Connecticut," she could explain why she was really laughing, but Casey doesn't want to waste Tom's time, "So, what's his story?"

…

"What's going on, Coach?" Derek asks jovially the second he's through the door.

"You should sit, Venturi."

"Ah, alright," Derek pushes some gear off the chair across from Coach's desk and takes a seat. "Gotta be honest there, you're kinda making me nervous."

Coach smiles, but if Derek didn't know better he'd say that the older man looked upset. "I've really enjoyed having you on my team Venturi, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, Coach. It's been great. I think I've really improved and it's probably mostly thanks to you."

"I just don't want you to blame me when I give you the news, Venturi. 'Cause this is from the owners, not me."

"Coach, just spit it out already, I'm sure it can't be that bad."

"That's just it, D. It's the worst news I've got all season."

…

"He's an up and comer from the Maple Leafs; he's had a huge first season. Rumor has it that the Rangers paid through the nose to get him. So the kid's probably got a huge ego on him." Tom slides a manila folder across the desk. "But that's nothing you can't handle," Tom says with a wink, "His name is Eric or Derek or something like that."

One hand on the folder, Casey sputters, almost choking on her own spit. "Derek, uh, Derek Venturi?"

…

"Bullshit." Derek shouts, slamming his fists down on Coach's desk. "They didn't even think to consult me? This is my career after all!"

"I know it's not exactly as the best time, since you've been on a roll, but look, D. New York noticed, and they wanted you, bad."

"Bad enough the Leafs would just give me away?"

"Derek, it wasn't my decision. All they saw was the numbers on the bottom line, we'd be getting their draft pick as well as our own and they've given us three second string players to help ease the transition. As far as the owners were concerned, there was no saying no to letting you go."

"When do I leave?"

"You can practice with us today, then you can take a couple of days to get your stuff together, and say your goodbyes, but New York is expecting you by the end of the week."

Derek runs his fingers through his hair, "This is bullshit."

"I know, D. Ya want me to tell the team or are you gonna make the announcement?"

"I guess I'd better do it, huh?"

Coach nods, "Chin up, Venturi. They've got amenities and perks like you wouldn't believe over in New York. By the end of the month, you won't even remember us."

"They could give me twice the money I'm making now and my pick of all the women in the country and I'd still be pissed about leaving here."

"You always just hit it right on the mark, don't ya, D?" Coach pushes some papers across the desk. "Here's your new contract. They're gonna want you to sign it ASAP."

Derek crosses his arms over his chest, "And if I refuse?"

"Ya know how this works, kid. You gotta sign."

"To think I thought I'd be making my own decisions once I got to the big leagues."

"Didn't we all, D. Didn't we all."

Derek signs the contract, however reluctantly, and meets his Coach in the eyes. "Now what?"

"Well, they're paying for airfare and all of that, and they'll set you up at the Four Seasons until you can get settled. It's not close enough so you can walk to the Garden, but I suppose they figure you'll be able to afford cab fare on your new salary, so..." He receives a half-hearted chuckle from Derek and then continues. "Then they'll probably set you up with a real estate agent to find you more permanent accommodations, and then, well. You start your new life."

"As a New Yorker," Derek swallows. "Shit."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think your issue was with the city itself, not with the trade at all."

"You don't know who's in New York City, Coach."

...

Is New York City big enough for the two of them? It's Derek and Casey, so it seems that only time will tell. I see that hit counter going up, but the reviews remain unmatched. That pretty little button's just calling your name, isn't it? Please and thank you, and I'd absolutely love it if you left a review. Salt of life for us writers it is, haha, and thank you again!