by KL Donn
“Mention my mom again and I will cut off your dick, Kravtsov,” I warn, sliding into the open seat next to Jake.
“Try it.” Kravtsov points finger guns at his crotch. “You’ll need a chain saw for this monster.”
“We’ve showered with you, man,” Blake Panikos jokes. “We know there ain’t nothing but a beer can down there.”
The comment makes us all laugh, not only because he called out Kravstov but also because anyone who doesn’t know we’re a group of athletes could easily take lines like that out of context. And that part makes it even funnier.
Despite our raucous roar, not one person pays attention. Granted, there are only a few other people at the bar—the guy Brian flicked, a couple other old dudes, and a few cougars playing pool.
Blake’s joke eases my initial annoyance with Kravtsov, who I normally don’t have much tolerance for. Despite being Nik’s cousin and knowing him outside of the rink, we’ve never really got along. Every time we play against each other this weird rivalry comes out. When the Chargers picked him up as a free agent last year, I wasn’t too thrilled.
It’s unlikely to think you’ll get along with every single teammate you ever play with, but you push the personal feelings aside so the petty drama bullshit doesn’t make it onto the ice.
As Nik’s cousin and my teammate, I’m stuck dealing with him, since he’s not going away anytime soon.
The silver lining is that as much as Kravtsov can be a complete dick to others, he does say some funny shit. Most of which comes back to bite him in his stupid ass.
Nik drags a chair over from the next table and sits down next to his cousin.
Kravstov scoots over, giving him more room. “Sorry, Bergie. But I couldn’t rip on Kolya’s mom—that’s my aunt.”
The hum of lingering laughter halts abruptly. All we can hear is the static crackle from the ten-year-old box TV hanging in the corner above our heads.
Blake looks around as if there’s someone over his shoulder ready to chastise him if he speaks. He leans in, breaking the silence with a loud whisper. “Did he just apologize?”
Kravtsov rolls his eyes, then pushes his chair back and stands. “And now I’m taking a piss. In case you’re writing this down.”
“He’s going soft on us,” Blake says as Kravtsov walks away.
“That’s what she said,” Nik and I say in unison.
“It’s like you were separated at birth.” Jake laughs and downs his beer. Then he gets up and starts to follow Kravtsov. “Anyone need another when I come back?”
All three of us raise our bottles, but no one gets up to help Jake.
“Dicks,” he mutters.
I turn to Blake, lowering my voice when I ask, “How’re things going, man?”
What else do you say to a guy who’s been in a bitter custody battle with his ex-wife for months. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but I want to express my sympathy. I can’t even imagine how distraught I’d be if Danica tried taking Paige away from me.
“Horrible,” he says, setting his empty beer at the end of the table. “I can’t believe I never knew she had this much animosity toward me. She was never like that while we were married.” He hunches over, resting his forearms on the table, and begins picking at the skin around his thumbnail.
“I don’t know, man,” Nik sympathizes. “Some people change when they’re angry or jilted.”
“I know.” Blake looks up quickly. “I just—ugh! We were together for seven fucking years! I never thought she’d try to take my kids away from me.”
Blake and Caroline had one of those been-together-since-elementary-school relationships. When the Chargers drafted him, Caroline left Toronto, their hometown, and moved with him to Detroit, while he played for the Phoenix, Charlotte’s AHL affiliate (minor-league team). They got married in the off-season before he got called up to the NHL.
While she was nice enough every time I met her, she always seemed a bit shy and self-conscious—a little codependent. She was never comfortable with him being in the public eye and she really hated when he traveled. Which, I don’t understand because she knew what she was getting into from the start.
“She’s the one who broke up our family,” Blake says as Jake arrives clutching a round of fresh beers between his fingers. He leans back to allow Jake room to set the drinks down. “She cheated on me. I never fucking cheated on her. Not once. You know how much pussy I could’ve had? But I didn’t.”
“Dealing with jealousy and insecurity is part of our life, man,” Nik says. “It’s hard to have a relationship in general, let alone a wife.”
“Especially when you’re all she has. I mean, not to bring Amanda into it—” Jake begins.
There’s a collective groan from the table. Ever since Jake started dating Amanda—six whole months ago—he hasn’t stopped talking about her.
And, to be clear, there’s no comparison between his relationship and Blake’s married. He just wants to annoy the fuck out of us by talking about Amanda.
“Shut up!” Jake says and continues with his original thought. “I’m just pointing out the difference. Amanda had a life outside of me before we met. Caroline didn’t have anyone or anything else. She didn’t work. She didn’t have any friends here. She left her family and everything she knew to be with you. And you’re gone all the time. Even when you’re home, you’re gone. It’s not a slam. It’s like Nik said, traveling is part of our life.”
“And sometimes your girl is just using you for your money and fame, and leaves you with a kid. And as much as you love that kid—sometimes, it fucking sucks,” I chime in, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice.
I’ve barely thought about Danica, my ex-girlfriend, over the last few years. I think having a woman around—even one I’m not romantically linked to—brought back the sting of her selfishness and betrayal.
Kravtsov raises his bottle in the air and holds it above the middle of the table. “Fucked if we do. Fucked if we don’t.”
I reach up to clink bottles with the boys before taking a long slug. He actually makes sense for once, and for a brief moment, I wonder what kind of brutal relationship baggage he’s dragged to Charlotte with him.
“This conversation sucks,” Blake says. “Can we talk about the big-tittied girl Nik took home last night?”
“No,” Nik responds. A sharp, definitive no.
“You motorboatin’ son of a bitch,” Kravstov jokes, quoting the famous line from Wedding Crashers.
When the conversation switches to movies, I remove my phone from my pocket and shoot Emma a text. The day was so packed, I barely had a chance to check in. When I stopped at the condo to shower and change after the golf tournament, they weren’t there.
Me: How’s it going?
It only takes a few seconds before I get Emma’s snarky response.
Emma: Hold on a sec. Paige is playing with matches and running with scissors.
Me: Emma, come on. I’m just checking on my kid.
Emma: You’ve trusted her in my care for three years—and one day. How is tonight any different?
I think about her question for a moment. It wasn’t any different from any other time Emma has been with Paige. It just felt different to me because I’m out having fun and I feel guilty that the girls are so close, yet not involved.
Me: Glad you have everything covered. Grab the box with my insurance papers in case she figures out the matches.
Emma: Already have them in the car. See? I’m responsible.
I can’t help but smile at the interaction. I toss my phone onto the table and focus my attention back to the conversation.
“Swiping?” Blake asks.
“What?”
He nods to my phone. “Where you on the apps swiping? Looking for some Raleigh tail?”
“Is that really how you talk?” Kravtsov calls him out. “You’re never going to get ‘tail’ saying shit like that.”
“Don’t worry about me, V. I handle my business,” Blake answers.
Kravtsov lowers his hand to his crotch and makes a jerk-off motion. “I bet you do.”
Call me crazy, but I really missed these guys.
9
EMMA
After two full days with her, I’ve decided Paige Bergeron is literally my favorite kid and I want to be her nanny forever.
Bold words after two days, I know, but I’m all in.
I’ve always enjoyed being around her, but she’s really nestling herself into my heart. Outside of the occasional—and normal—four-year-old defiance over something silly, she hasn’t given me any trouble at all. In three years, I’ve never had one-on-one time with her. And I realize, that’s the ticket. Though, that’s probably the ticket with any kid. They all want undivided attention.
Yesterday, I let her choose our first adventure. She wanted to go swimming, so we spent the day at one of the beautiful, sandy beaches at Falls Lake, which is a state park about thirty minutes outside of Raleigh. All the sun and swimming wore her out. She fell asleep
Today, she wanted to see the dinosaurs at the NC Museum of Natural Sciences. Easy enough—and another activity that keep her completely engaged for the entire day.
Score!
When we pull into the driveway at the condo, Nik is dropping Sylvain off at the same time. It’s my first glance at one of his teammates. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a requirement for all hockey players to be hot.
He rushes to my window. “You guys hungry?”
“Starving!” Paige yells from the backseat.
Geez, the kid makes it sound like I haven’t fed her all day when she just gobbled up the peanut butter and chocolate chip granola bar I gave her to hold her over until dinner.
“Scoot over,” he says, waving me to the passenger seat and opening the driver’s side door.
I unbuckle my seat belt and climb over quickly before I have a two-hundred-pound hockey player on my lap.
“I really feel like a burger.” Paige says. “Can we get burgers, Daddy?”
Sylvain glances at me as he shifts into reverse. “Are burgers okay with you?”
I nod. I’m pretty easy to please. I’ll eat anything if someone else is paying.
“How was your day, Paiger?” he asks. “What kind of fun did you and Emma get into?”
“Dinosaurs!” she answers, following it up with a roar.
As we weave through the streets of Raleigh, she recaps our day at the museum, complete with sound effects and arm motions for each of the prehistoric beast we saw. The dinosaurs were definitely her favorite.
“Whoa! Sounds awesome. Which dinosaur did you like best?”
“I liked Acro.”
His eyes flick to her in the rearview mirror. “What’s an Acro?”
“Acro is the Acro—” she pauses to think. “It’s the Acroa—”
“Acrocanthosaurus,” I help.
“Yes! And everyone thinks it’s a T-Rex, but it’s not.”
“How about this place?” he asks as he turns into the Mo’s Drive-In parking lot.
The huge, neon sign casts a light-pink glow on the car’s charcoal dashboard.
“It’s so pretty!” Paige says in a breath is if it’s the most magical place on earth.
I laugh.
Tiny, black, plastic letters spell out Mo’s numerous offerings on an oversized, yellowed board that looms behind the speaker. How does a place like this stay in business with a Sonic across the street? Maybe people like the nostalgia, because it doesn’t look like Mo’s has made many updates to the original fifties-style decor.
“Looks cool right?” He shifts into park. “And guess what Paiger?”
The little girl unbuckles her seatbelt and leans forward rapt with attention.
“We order here.” Sylvain points to the old, steel pole with a metal, skull-shaped speaker outside his window. “And they bring our food to the car.”
“We eat in the car?” She squeals. “That’s so cool.”
He glances at me as if looking for some kind of approval. I swear he thinks I’m taking notes on his parenting or something. I wish he’d be more comfortable around me.
“What are you going to get?” I ask him.
“Chicken and veggies.” Paige rolls her eyes.
“I don’t think they have chicken and veggies here.” His face flashes with disgust as he looks at the menu. “Well, not the kind that’s good for me.”
“Is this your cheat meal?” I ask, as I scan the menu, looking to see what I’m going to order.
Even without ever being here, I can tell Mo’s will be delicious. Can’t go wrong with greasy diner food delivered to the car.
“Absolutely.” He laughs.
“You ready to order?” a male voice crackles through the ancient speaker.
Without hesitation, Paige yells out the window. “I want a hot dog and fries!”
Sylvain and I both turn around to look at her.
“I thought you wanted a burger,” he says.
“I changed my mind.” She shrugs and leans toward the open window and repeats. “I want a hot dog and fries!”
“Please,” Sylvain whispers the reminder.
“Please!” she screams in to his ear. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his lips together.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger and chili-cheese fries,” I say. “Oh! And a root beer float!”
Sylvain scans me quickly from my black and white Chuck Taylor knock-offs to the top of my head. He’s either judging me or wondering where I’m going to put all the food I ordered. Either way, it won’t stop me from scarfing down some Mo’s.
“And I’ll have the double cheeseburger, extra pickles, onion rings, and an ice water.”
“Is that all?” The voice in the speaker asks.
“I want a float, too, Daddy!”
He shakes his head. “Not tonight, Paige.”
“Emma got a float.”
“Emma’s an adult.”
“I want a float!” Paige kicks the back of his seat with all her might, sending him forward.
“Don’t kick the back of my seat,” he snaps. “You’re definitely not getting a float if you do that!”
She kicks it again. Sylvain’s ears are so red, it looks as if they might start smoking.
“Do you want another root beer float?” The voice asks impatiently.
“Yes!” Paige screams at the same time Sylvain says, “No.”
“Roger that.”
Sylvain turns around to address Paige, “I think you own me an apology.”
“No.” She folds her arms across her chest and narrows her eyebrows at him. With the eyebrows and scrunched face, she looks like a cartoon character. If looks could kill, we’d be planning his funeral.
Slowly, she lifts her foot up to kick his chair again.
“Don’t you dare,” he warns through clenched teeth.
She scowls at him and stomps her foot on her own seat instead.
“Look, Paige!” I point to the waitress skating to the car while balancing a tray filled with food, hoping the diversion helps her forget about being denied a float. “How cool is that?”
“It’s not cool,” she replies, still too angry to find it amusing.
I’m okay with letting it go, but Sylvain isn’t. He spins around, chest heaving as he leans into the backseat. “Drop the attitude and apologize to Emma.”
“No!” She screams. “Not until you let me have a root beer float!”
“That’s not how this works!” He yells back. “With how you’re acting, you expect me to—"
She covers her ears, lifts her eyes to the ceiling, and moves her mouth—mocking him soundlessly.
Sylvain’s eyes widen and he takes a deep breath in. When he releases it, I have a feeling he’s really going to let it out on her. Which won’t help the situation, only take it further south.
“Hey,” I say gently, placing my hand on his thigh to divert his attention. “Let’s all take a minute to cool off, okay?”
Whe
n his eyes snap to mine, there’s a smoldering curiosity and I realize how the physical part of my diversion tactic could be interpreted. I lift my hand quickly, as if his thigh is a hot surface.
“Her behavior isn’t acceptable,” he says through clenched teeth, his expression still hard. He glances at the waitress who’s busy securing the tray to the open driver’s side window.
“I know. I know.” I nod. “But the verbal battle we have here is only making it worse. Let’s all take a minute to calm down.”
It’s not easy to back down when you’re ready to fight, but arguing with a four-year-old only brings increased blood pressure and frustration.
“If I let it go, she’ll think she can get away with acting that way.” His ears burn red as a stop sign as clenches the steering wheel and stares straight ahead.
“I understand that’s what you want her to get out of it, but she’s too worked up to understand that right now. Once you’ve cooled off, you can have a conversation about it.”
“Here we fucking go,” he snaps. “Please, rail me about how much I suck as a parent.”
Now it’s my turn to disengage. If he wants to be angry with me when I’m just trying to help, that’s on him.
I watch the waitress skate away, wondering if they have different uniforms in the winter. Mo’s an asshat if he makes the girls wear roller skates and hot pants to serve food to patrons waiting in their cars in the winter months.
After taking a minute to calm down, Sylvain hands out the food calmly. He waits until I’ve taken my first bite to begin eating his meal. Once he digs in, he barely looks up.
I straighten up in my seat and look out the window, my head darting to the left and then the right. “Where’s the fire?”
Stopping mid-chew, Sylvain lifts his eyes to mine. “Hmm?”
“I’ve never seen someone eat so fast in my life. It looks like you haven’t eaten in a week.”
Silence fills the air as he finishes chewing and swallowing. “I’m starving. I haven’t had anything except a nasty breakfast sandwich I grabbed on the way to practice this morning.”
“Didn’t you see the note I left on the island in the kitchen?” I ask before popping two chili-cheese covered fries into my mouth.