Kip was dead asleep when the first phone call came in. The first round of play offs was finished. They were moving on. He hadn't been starting goalie as was suggested. In fact, Lundin was on such a hot streak he hadn't played a single game.

He grabbed his cell phone off his dresser. It was barely light outside, he squinted at the bright display, frantic that it was Mandy. That something was wrong. It was his agent. He opened the phone and hit the answer button. "Hello?" He rubbed his face, trying to figure out if he was home or in a hotel. Home. He was heading for Mandy's, it was a Wednesday and he had a day off or something.

"There's rumours that Lundin was injured. What happened at practice?"

Kip blinked. Aleksander Lundin was hurt? Not as far as he knew. But Kip hadn't seen him after practice. "I don't know," Kip said, trying not to snap. It was too early for him to deal with unsubstantiated rumours. "He was fine when I saw him yesterday." Fuck, he wasn't about to be thrown in front of the playoff bus was he? He threw the covers back and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Well, it's what I heard this morning."

"I'm not even up yet. Do you ever sleep?"

"Sure, sometimes. It's cut throat, Turner. I have to be up at 3 AM to see what went on the night before. Usually I go to bed around noon, no one has meetings in the afternoon."