by E. Cleveland
“Mmhmm. More than alright.” She sounds blissed out.
I slide my arm under her and pull her into me, letting my fingers trail down over her skin.
“Do you need anything?” I kiss the back of her neck, and she wiggles her ass back against me.
“No.” She sounds sleepy. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”
“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”
“Perfect is too much pressure,” she mumbles.
“You’re right.” I pull her in tighter. “You’re everything I want. Everything I need. Maybe perfect is too much pressure, but you’re fucking everything to me.” I kiss her shoulder. “I love you, Hattie.”
“I love you too,” she answers.
Not that she needed to. It radiates off of her. It envelops us like this after-glow. It keeps us warm like these blankets. We sink into it, surrendering to each other, just like our bodies are surrendering to sleep. As we drift off, that word keeps repeating in my brain.
Love.
26
Instant Regret
Griz
“Do you want some scrambled eggs? I’m whipping some up for me, so…”
“Yeah, thanks.” Hattie smiles and leans back against the counter.
I pull the electric frying pan out and get it all set up. She’s still smiling. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head.
“That’s not a nothing smile. That’s a something smile. What’s it about?” I start cracking eggs in a bowl, and her grin spreads.
“I just like you cooking me breakfast.” She shrugs. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah.” I could fucking kiss her right now. If I did, I know it wouldn’t end with a kiss. Letting the whole house watch him fuck is really more of Blaze’s thing, so I stick to the eggs. “I’m trying to win you over with my cooking.”
“You won me over a long time ago.” She tilts her head.
“Really? It was my moves at the reception, right? It didn’t seem like you were really paying attention, but how could you keep your eyes off of this?” I swing my arms back and forth over my hips, flossing like a pro.
Hattie laughs, maybe a bit too loud. “No, that wasn’t it.” She is definitely laughing too loud. “It was when you called yourself a big-beard feminist face.” She becomes really serious. That fake date with its back-breaking labor feels like forever ago.
That Rosie the Riveter get-up, her story about the ice show and that thousand-dollar date were wild and fun and unexpected. Just like Hattie. That’s what I love about her.
Blaze walks into the kitchen and heads straight out the back door to the porch. “Going to wake and bake.” He holds up a joint. “If Player asks, you did not see me doing this, ok? He’s been on my ass about everything.”
“I’m not involved in whatever you two have got going on.” I lift up my hands.
“Good.” Blaze goes out the door, but it’s like he popped a bubble or something because now the kitchen is the popular place to be.
Gucci comes in, sniffing for food like a hound. “Smells good. What ya got there?”
“Eggs,” I answer. “Not for you.”
Canuck walks in and starts getting himself some cereal. “Hey.”
“Aww, c’mon. I’m all out of breakfast stuff. I’ve gotta get groceries, but who even knows if the roads are plowed out around here yet.” Gucci keeps begging for food.
“They are,” Canuck winks at me. “I heard them at like five this morning. Bunny Boulevard wasn’t the only thing getting plowed all night.” His smile is like the Grinch’s heart in reverse. It starts out three sizes too big and slowly shrinks down to nothing.
“Dude, what are you doing? That’s my girlfriend.” I frown with confusion not anger.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes I think something is going to be way funnier in my head, you know? And then I open my mouth, and it’s instant regret.”
“You’ve gotta work on that, man.” Gucci turns his attention to us.
“Instant regret,” Canuck repeats.
“Etta told me there might-be/might-not-be something going on with you two.” I know him better than just about anyone, and his smile is as real as it gets. “I’m happy for you, man.” He claps my shoulder.
“As I’m sure my best friend has informed you, I’m Reed.” He makes a big production of shaking my hand.
“We’ve met before.” I laugh.
He ignores me. “Everyone calls me Gucci.”
“Tell her why,” Canuck interrupts.
“Shut it,” Gucci mutters at him.
“Guys, grab your food to go.” Player walks in and talks over everyone. “Coach called a team meeting. About the video. He wants everyone at his office in half an hour.”
I scoop the scrambled eggs out onto a couple plates and hand one off to Hattie. “Here, I’ve gotta eat fast. Take your time, and you can leave whenever.” I go eat my eggs over the sink and just leave my plate and fork in there.
“No problem. Don’t worry about me. I won’t get too nosy in your room while you’re gone.” Her eyes sparkle, and she kisses me on the cheek.
“Really, man?” The anger in Player’s voice rips between Hattie and I. We both turn, and Blaze is motionless in the back doorway. “It’s eight in the morning, and you’re already high?”
No one says fuck all. The tension between them is running so high. I feel like I’ve got front row seats at a cage match that’s about to start.
“Why don’t you back the fuck off, Player? Team captain doesn’t make you a tough guy, alright?”
“I’m not trying to be a tough guy, asshole. I’m tired of being brought down because you’re on a self-destruct mission. Every time you fuck up, you bring the entire team down. And you don’t give a shit.”
“That’s not true.” Blaze locks his red-rimmed eyes on the ground.
“It is. Like how you’re on the bench for the next three games because of your suspension. Like how we had to bail your ass out of jail last year. Like how the entire fucking team has to dig their cars out from under the biggest snowstorm of the year and get into Wilson’s office, because you fucked up. I’m sick of you being a fucking anchor around our necks.”
“Whoa, everyone needs to calm down.” I jump in between them. Even though neither of them has budged and inch, it feels like this could get physical.
“Yeah, this isn’t helping. Let’s get the snow off Griz’s car and get this sorted out.” Gucci backs me up.
“Sorry again about the plow comment.” Canuck apologizes to Hattie as he walks out the door.
“It’s forgotten.” She laughs.
She’s the only one laughing. The entire time we get the car out and drive over to the office, all of us are silent. When we get there, the office is closed and locked down. There’s a girl around our age sitting in one of the chairs just outside his door. She doesn’t look like she’s got anything to do with hockey. With her skirt, blazer and dark hair pulled back sleek, she looks so business-like she could be a stock photo.
Luckily, Player and Blaze keep their distance and maintain their silence. Gucci and Canuck sit against the far wall with Player. I lean back against the wall near the door with Blaze.
“She looks uptight.” He jerks his head at the business-like chick.
“That’s probably your fault,” I answer.
“You’re probably right.” He nods. “I bet she’s one of those women who acts like videos like mine are destroying society. Meanwhile, their entire computer search history is just mascot-head porn.” He says it like he’s serious, but I laugh.
“Is that a thing?”
“Everything is a thing.” He stops sizing up blazer-girl and looks at me. “It’s rule thirty-four.” He says it like it needs no explanation.
“And that is?” It does.
“If it exists, there’s a porn made of it.” We watch Coach Wilson make his way past all the guys that packed in here. Anyone who wasn’t standing up is now.
“
Listen up,” he calls out, cupping his hands at each side of his mouth. He looks even more stressed than when Blaze turned himself in. I’m not as angry with Blaze as Player is. I don’t even think Wilson is that angry. Still, it sucks that he doesn’t see how much his actions do affect the team.
“As I explained before, actions have consequences. I would like to introduce you to ours. This is Pricilla Stevens. She has been hired by Westbury to do a clean-up job on this video mess. Anyway, Pricilla, the floor is yours.” He motions for her to take over.
“Thanks.” She doesn’t smile. “I’m Pricilla Stevens, and I’ve been hired by your university to help rebrand the Westbury Warriors hockey team.”
“Is this for real?”
“What are we, the new and improved version?”
A couple guys start chirping, but one cold glance from Pricilla and they shrivel up and die. “When parents are trying to decide if their child should play for Westbury, we need to change the search results. That means not just taking pretty pictures of do-gooding. It means actual changes.”
Pricilla begins to walk back and forth. It’s not pacing. These are the deliberate, slow steps of someone who has practiced this entire speech before giving it. “Starting now, we have three new rules.” She holds her thumb over her head. “One: there will be no more underaged drinking. Two…” Up goes the pointer finger. “All players will have a curfew of 11 p.m.”
That causes and uproar that a few dirty looks doesn’t quiet down. Wilson has to stand back up and get the floor under control. “And three,” – Pricilla juts her fingers right back up in the air like nothing happened –
“under no circumstances, are any of you to produce, release or share any pornographic or sexually explicit media. Any questions?”
Wow. Are we allowed to ask what the fuck?
“Yeah.” Blaze lifts his hand and steps forward. “Hi, I’m Blaze.”
“I know who you are.” She only half rolls her eyes like she got bored and gave up.
“I imagine you do. You’ve probably seen my work.” Blaze gets the reaction he wanted. A bunch of guys laugh around us.
“I had a couple minutes to kill.” She hits back.
“Ohhh.” The laughter turns on Blaze.
“Okay, so, Prissy, how do you think you’re going to enforce all these new rules?” Blaze couldn’t look like he gave less of a fuck. Even with all of this, he seems removed from it all.
“It’s pretty simple. If you’re caught breaking the rules, you’re off the team.” She gives a tight-lipped smile that one hundred percent meant fuck off.
“So, you’re gonna catch everyone who has a sip of beer underage?” Blaze is so smug. Even I want to tell him to shut the fuck up. Player looks like he might do a lot worse.
“No, that would be impossible.”
“Exactly.” He yells it like he checkmated her.
“That’s why I’ll be keeping my focus narrow.”
Finally, Blaze shuts his mouth.
“I believe your coach will also be keeping tabs. As will the team captain. However.” She speaks louder so everyone can hear at the back. “He’s right. No one can keep an eye on you all the time. That’s why you have to keep yourselves in check, and help be an example.” – she looks back at Blaze – “instead of a problem.”
He looks like he’s wishing he never said anything. He looks like it’s finally sinking in, what this is all going to mean for him. He looks like instant regret.
27
Closet Temperature Beer
Griz
We go through the line, doing something between a handshake and a high-five with the other team. “Good game,” I say for the fifteenth time. We all say it, over and over, until we make our way through the team.
You’d think we were paying our respects at a funeral. We earned our place in the play-offs for the Frozen Four, but barely. With Blaze on suspension, we just squeaked out that win. With all the new rules being hammered down on us by our new PR princess, Pricilla, it’s not like we can really go out to celebrate our victory anyway.
The locker room doesn’t have the same post-game energy. Everyone seems dulled down. Including me. When Coach Wilson comes in to talk to us, he doesn’t even need to yell over the noise. It’s quiet enough that he rallies us together without a lot of effort.
“All right, boys. Congratulations.” Our coach smiles, but even he seems less excited than you’d expect. “It took grit and guts today to get to the play-offs, and I’m proud of each and every one of you who put everything out there today. I’m proud that you never gave up, you never gave in, and you fucking earned your spot.” He stands in the middle of us. We’re all huddled around him, probably overwhelming him with our post-game funk.
“Thanks, coach,” a bunch of us answer him.
“You guys showed me that you know what it means to be a team today. If we can just stick together and put what’s good for the team first, there will be no stopping ya.”
Our team has never felt more fractured than it does now. I think Coach Wilson knows it too, but he’s got to try to put a positive spin on all this. He can’t come in here and tell us the truth. He can’t say, “Chances are, you guys are fucked. I’m glad you tried hard, but this is probably the end of the season for us.” The team morale is already low. Giving us a speech filled with hard truths would kill it completely.
“I want you to get showered, get the fuck out of here, and enjoy your win,” he continues.
“Yeah, with no beer.” Rookie doesn’t complain loudly, but it’s so quiet in here we all hear it clearly.
“My hands are tied on the rules, guys. Drinking isn’t everything. And you’ve got no business getting drunk going into the play-offs anyway.” He frowns in Rookie’s direction. “We’re under the microscope right now, and we can’t fuck it up. There’s a chance the Warriors could take the tournament for the third year in a row, if preventable stupidity doesn’t destroy our chances. So, yeah, celebrate your win, but keep it legal and keep it dry. Got it?”
“Yes, coach!” we all bark out like a platoon answering their commander.
“Good.” He looks around at us, and it’s clear to see on his tired face that this isn’t the speech he had in mind. Hell, it’s probably not the season he had in mind. None of us did. And the one person who fucked it up for everyone isn’t even here. In fact, Blaze doesn’t seem to care at all.
That’s what pisses me off. It’s not that he fucked up. We all do. It’s the lack of remorse. It’s the lack of fucks he has to give that gets me.
“I’ll see you all back here on Tuesday for practice.” Coach Wilson heads toward the door. “Keep it legal and keep it dry,” he reminds us one more time before he leaves.
As soon as he goes, the room becomes a flurry of action again. It’s like someone unpaused the movie. We’re all ripping off gear and getting stripped down for showers.
“Nothing like those raging college sobriety parties.” Canuck sighs, shoving his skates in his bag.
“It’ll be a throwback to those middle school parties.” Rookie smiles. “We could go totally old-school and play spin the bottle with the girls.”
“My middle school parties had booze,” Gucci chimes in. He’s already down to nothing but a towel. He heads off into the first round of showers.
“Yeah, and don’t act like spin the bottle isn’t your go-to move, Rookie,” Player zings him. Poor kid is wearing his virginity like a weight around his neck. I wonder why he hasn’t just taken the plunge already. “Anyway, I’m gonna get some food with Kaylee, I’ll meet you guys back at the house later,” Player stuffs the rest of his gear in his hockey bag and heads off into the showers too.
I’m not far behind them. I told Hattie not to wait around after the game. She wanted to order some food at her place. If I didn’t have my hockey bag, I’d be onboard. There’s no way I’m taking my sweat-soaked padding and dripping, wet clothes to her apartment. I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t do that to her entire apa
rtment complex. There’s no way I can just leave them in my vehicle either. I don’t want my car to smell like a hearse. Except, hearses don’t just have dead bodies rolling around in them. They have caskets. I don’t want my Escalade to smell like the inside of a casket. Basically, it’s the stench of death itself that I’m trying to avoid.
I get washed up and dressed, and I drive Canuck and Gucci back to Hector House with me. We each deal with our hockey bags differently. Canuck goes straight to the laundry tub and starts washing everything. He’s the only guy I know that does that after every game. I mean, it works. His hockey bag is the only one I’d ever consider leaving in my car, but it’s a lot of fucking work. I toss what I can in the wash and lay out the rest, dosing it all in Febreeze. Gucci takes his stuff outside in the snow. He lays it all over the deck and just leaves it there. He swears that it freezes the stink off. I’m not saying it doesn’t work, but he is the last guy I’d ever let leave his bag in my car.
Thud-tink-thump!
It’s a weird combination of sounds coming from the front door. I open it, and Hattie is struggling to hang onto five pizza boxes. She’s also got a bag dangling over each arm at the elbow with drinks and dips.
“You’ve never looked more like an angel.” I hold the door open with my back. “Gimmie those.” I grab the boxes and watch her sweet ass sway past as she goes inside.
I have never regretted anything more than I regret asking her to come here. If we were at her apartment, I would drop these boxes and rip those pants off her. Maybe I do have a kink.
“Pizza!” Hattie yells out, and we take it to the kitchen. She and I dig in first, but Gucci and Canuck are right behind us. We’re all standing around, eating, when Blaze walks in. It’s not the fact that he doesn’t even acknowledge any of us, or the fact that he stacks his plate with way too much pizza that piss me off…it’s the fucking beer in his hand that’s making my blood boil.