by S. R. Grey
He flops back on the bed. “So what if I am? I haven’t had anything remotely resembling alcohol since fucking August. And I’m not an alcoholic, Aubrey. I can go out and throw back a few once in a while.”
“Oh, that sounds like Nolan talking.”
“Funny. He said the same thing about you.”
“So he did say it was okay for you to get drunk?”
“Who cares if he did? It’s true.”
“Where’d you go?” I carefully inquire.
He looks a little shady when he replies, “There was a bar at the steak place where we ate.”
“Hmm…”
I want Brent to feel comfortable kicking back with his teammates—and I really don’t think a once-in-a-while night out with the boys will make him spiral—but I do worry if the team finds out they may panic and extend my contract, thinking they still need me. If that happens our relationship will have to continue to remain a secret, a secret that if discovered could sink us both.
I share all this with Brent, and then say, “Do you see now why I’m so upset?”
“Yeah,” he says on a sigh. “When you put it like that I do.” He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. “I wasn’t thinking. But I promise you I won’t go out drinking again till you’re no longer my life coach.”
“And even then, Brent, don’t let things get out of control. You may not be an alcoholic, but drinking to excess has caused you problems in the past.”
“I know, babe.” His hand slides down to my bare ass, already distracted. “I won’t.”
I may complain, but I’m just as bad as him. Dropping the conversation, I get busy Zamboni-ing his ice.
I go on the road with the team the week of Thanksgiving.
Since there’s a game the night before the actual holiday, as well as one the following Friday afternoon, I have to inform my family that I won’t be able to join them for our big holiday turkey feast this year.
Mom and Dad are disappointed, but understand that my job comes first.
“We’ll catch up with you at Christmas,” my always supportive dad says after I give him the bad news.
“Yes, definitely,” I reply, knowing I’ll be out of the contract with the Wolves by then.
I start imagining holidays spent with Brent—putting up a tree, drinking eggnog, and exchanging special gifts, all as an official couple.
I hear my mom sigh and realize Dad has his phone on speaker. “Honey,” my mother starts out of the blue.
“Yes, Mom?”
”Please promise me you’ll be sure to eat a real dinner on Thanksgiving. I know how caught up in your job you get, but you have to have some turkey. No fast food, okay?”
I assure her, “Mom, I don’t really eat fast food, anyway.”
“Oh, that’s good, honey. But promise me about the turkey.”
“Yes, Mom,” I dutifully reply. “I will absolutely have some turkey on Thanksgiving.”
I talk a bit longer with my parents, and then I call Lainey.
“Sestra!” she sings out when she answers.
I start laughing. “Sounds like someone’s been binge watching Orphan Black again.”
My sister may have a slight obsession with Tatiana Maslany.
“Guilty as charged,” she replies. “I just finished with another multi-season viewing. I swear I might die waiting for season five.”
“You’ll live,” I assure her.
“Oh, hold on a minute. I’m getting a text.”
I imagine Lainey holding out her phone to read her new message. When she returns to our convo, she huffs.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“That was from Dad. What’s this about you not coming home for Thanksgiving?”
Sighing, I break the bad news to her. “It’s true, Lain. That’s why I’m calling, to let you know I won’t make it home this year. Dad just beat me to it.”
“Damn, your job is so freaking all-consuming.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I reply, feeling sad.
“I’m seeing it now more than ever, Aubrey. When do you have time to, like, live a life?”
Lainey is right. No wonder I fell for a client. I have no time for anyone other than whoever it is I’m life-coaching. What am I going to do when I’m assigned to someone new? Sure I’ll have a little time off, but then another assignment will come along. Do I really want to spend months away from Brent?
“I have a lot to think about,” I murmur.
“What’s that mean?” Lainey wants to know. “Oh wait. Holy crap! You met someone out there in Las Vegas, didn’t you?”
I’ve been dying to share my new relationship status with my sister, and finally here’s a chance. As long as I’m fuzzy on the details she won’t guess my new love interest is my client.
“I kind of have,” I admit.
Lainey squeals into the phone, “Details, Aubrey, I want details. Tell me everything. Plus, I want to know when I get to meet him. Will you be bringing him home to Pennsylvania for Christmas?”
“Whoa, slow down. We’re in the early stages of dating. Although I have known him since August.”
Another excited squeal assaults my ear. “What’s his name?”
This should be safe. “Brent,” I reply.
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Ooh, you cougar. A younger man.”
“Lainey.” I roll my eyes. “I’m only two years older than him.”
“Okay, whatever. Tell me more. What does he do? How’d you meet? Is he hot?”
I answer the only question I can, and luckily it’s the one I know Lainey wants to hear the most. “He’s absolutely gorgeous, Lainey.” Now it’s my turn to squeal a little. “He’s tall, like over six feet, and he has all this nice, thick dark hair. And then there’s his face.”
“Cute, huh?”
“Gorgeous.”
“What about his body?”
“Oh my God, it’s to die for. He’s built, all masculine and strong.”
I sigh, and so does Lainey.
And then she says, “Mmm, he sounds like he’s smoking hot.”
“He is,” I assure her. “He really is.”
“So what color are his eyes?” Giggling, she adds, “They’re not sunflower brown, are they?”
It’s safe to answer truthfully on that one. “Um, no, they’re more whiskey colored.”
“You were so funny that night, Aubrey,” Lainey goes on, referring to the party where I was drooling over Brent, only to find myself waking up in his bed.
If Lainey only knew that guy is my guy she’d die.
I can’t share that with her, but I can say, “You know what’s really wild, Lainey?”
“What?”
“The guy I’m dating looks an awful lot like the guy from that night, the one I was drooling over. I swear they could be twins.”
“Wow, lucky you,” she says. “That dude was sexy as hell.”
Smiling at the serendipitous way things sometimes work out, I say, “Yes, he certainly was.” And is.
Lainey then surprises the hell out of me when she asks, “Are you in love with him?”
“Um…”
“You are, aren’t you?”
Yes!
Lainey can’t hear my internal thoughts, but she may as well have. “Does he love you back?”
“I think so.”
“What? You haven’t told each other yet?”
I reply with what I believe is true. “Words aren’t everything. I’m sure we’ll get around to saying it to each other, but for now I’m good. I feel his love for me every day we spend together.”
“Ah, that’s sweet.” She sighs into the phone. “Now we need to find someone for me. Maybe I’ll get lucky like you and find my Prince Charming. But it’ll have to be after I graduate in May.”
“Why? Are there no good prospects up there at school?”
“Not really,” she says. “I date a lot, but there’s no on
e special emerging from the pack. I can’t wait to graduate, Aubs. I’m ready for real men in the real world.”
“Ha!” I laugh. “The real world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, trust me.”
It’s true. The real world sucks sometimes, especially when it prevents you from sharing with your sister the complete details of the man you’re head-over-heels in love with.
When Yoda Speaks, Listen You Must
Benny misses one game, and then another. The latter is played the night before Thanksgiving in Toronto, Nolan’s hometown.
The crowd is out of control up there. There’s blue and white everywhere. Our sad little team colors of black and red are barely represented. But I do spot Aubrey in the players’ wives and girlfriends section, wearing my jersey.
She’s seated next to Benny, who opted not to watch the game from a luxury box. He said he’d rather hang with Aubrey. Of course that means he’ll probably quiz her on every aspect of the game.
Poor girl.
I chuckle, but then I feel bad. I hate that Aubrey has to sit up there under the guise of being my life coach, the same reason she gives to others for why she’s wearing my number. I’m still her client, yes, but we’re so much more than that. And I want nothing more than to shout to the world that I’m in love with this girl.
That raises the question of why I haven’t said it to her yet.
Honestly, I’m afraid if I put it all out there on the line, I’ll somehow jinx things. Hey, what can I say? Hockey players are very superstitious, and I’m no exception. Plus, there’s the fact that Aubrey and I have been balancing on a damn tightrope lately. This keeping our romantic relationship a secret is really starting to mess me up.
My fucked-up state is evident when I screw up two plays, both resulting in goals for the other team. One fuckup is an errant pass I send directly to an opposing player’s stick. He scores and I slam my stick on the ice. The officials overlook my tantrum, but when I hurl the stick across the ice, I’m slapped with a ten-minute misconduct penalty.
While I’m in the box, the Leafs score again.
We lose 2-0.
“We can’t generate one fucking goal?” I yell at the guys in the locker room after the game.
I’m mad at myself, but I need to take it out somewhere.
Most of my teammates look away or pretend to be busy with taking off their equipment. Not Nolan, though. He looks directly at me and says, “It’s one game, Brent. Calm the fuck down.”
“One game,” I scoff. “One game, like when we lost in the first round of the playoffs last season? We were up three games to one, as I remember. But that one game was the beginning of the end. They stole the last three out from under our noses, and we fucking let them.”
“This isn’t the playoffs, dude,” Breeze interjects. “No worry so much.”
Nolan agrees, “Yeah, you tell him, Breeze.”
“You know what?” I snap. “You’re both assholes.”
Everyone is quiet and on edge because of my behavior. I’ve been a good leader to the team this season, but not today. I sit down on the bench in front of my locker and place my head in my hands.
Nolan comes over and sits next to me. “What’s up, my friend?” he asks. “This isn’t like you, not here in the locker room, and not with the way you played tonight.”
I raise my head, blow out a breath. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. But I know I’m feeling messed up in the head again.”
“Isn’t that what Aubrey’s supposed to prevent?” he quietly asks, so no one will hear.
I chuckle. “You’d think so, eh? But it’s mostly what’s going on with her that has me not thinking straight.”
“I thought you guys were good? I thought you had this thing under control?”
Nolan may not fully approve of our relationship—and this is probably why—but he’s not one to bail when I need him. Nor does he rub shit in your face, even when Yoda has been right all along.
“We’re great,” I say. “Everything with us is fine. The problem is the fucking secrecy. I’ve had it with hiding who we are to each other.”
I glance around to make sure no one’s listening in.
See how fucked up this shit is?
When I’m sure we’re good, I add, “I just want to take my girlfriend out in public, you know? Maybe take her to a nice dinner or a goddamn movie. Is that asking for too much?”
“No, no it’s not.” Nolan is using his soothing sensei voice. I must look like a real wreck. “But how much longer do you have to wait? Only a couple more weeks, eh?”
“Yeah,” I grumble. “Though it feels like forever at this point.”
He stands and raps me on the back. “Quit thinking about it so much, Oliver. Focus on playing hockey. The time will go fast.”
This is one time the great sensei better be fucking right.
Secrets and Lies
I sense trouble is in the air. Even from up in the stands, where I’m seated next to an unusually quiet Benny, I can tell Brent’s off his game. Passing the puck directly to an opponent is something he just doesn’t do.
But that’s not the part that worries me. It’s his reaction. Slamming his stick on the ice isn’t too bad, but sending it sailing across the rink?
That’s not Brent at all.
“My man is fucked up,” Benny says, sending an accusatory glance my way.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I question.
He shrugs as he focuses back on the ice, where Brent is skates dejectedly to the penalty box. “You need to life coach the shit out of him if you expect him to make it to December without having a meltdown.”
“He’s hanging in there,” I say, with no conviction whatsoever.
Benny laughs. “Hanging in there, eh? I heard he was out drinking the other night. Word is he got pretty fucked up.”
“He did,” I admit with a sigh. “But I’m sure that was a one-time thing.”
“Sure, Aubrey, whatever you say.”
Benny looks guilty as hell, and I sense he knows something and is holding back. I swear these guys gossip worse than little old ladies. If something more happened with Brent, he would know it.
“Am I missing something here, Benny? Did something else happen that night?”
“I wasn’t there” is his evasive answer.
I know then that I’ll get nothing more from him. Damn bro code. It’s a code of silence I have no chance of breaking. I’ll have to get to the bottom of this on my own.
The next day, I try.
It’s Thanksgiving and the team is holding a big dinner down in the hotel ballroom. Brent stops by my room to pick me up so I can go down with him.
“I hate this fucking shit,” he tells me when I come out in the hall and close the door behind me. “I can’t even come in your room.”
“We could go back in and pretend we’re having a meeting,” I suggest with a wicked grin.
Brent doesn’t take the bait. He’s clearly in a mood. Sighing, he says, “No one would buy that.”
“Oh, I think they would. After that little tantrum you had on the ice last night, they probably expect me to meet with you.”
He pins me with a look of disdain. “Aubrey, don’t fucking life coach me right now.”
His cranky mood can’t bring me down. “Ooh, someone sure is feeling surly,” I tease.
We start toward the elevator, and thankfully no one is around, especially when Brent leans in close and growls, “You bet your ass I’m feeling surly. What I’d like to do is take you back to your room and fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk for days.”
“Damn,” I mutter, liking surly Brent more and more.
I’m up for heading back to my room, but just as I’m about to say as much damn Nolan comes around the corner.
“Oh, hey,” he mutters, looking rather subdued. “Mind if I head down to the meal with you?”
Brent replies, “No, not at all. The more the merrier.”
These
two seem weird, like they’re hiding something.
Frustrated that I’m being kept out of the loop—because that can’t be good—I feel compelled to bait Nolan.
“What?” I say. “No smartass commentary today?”
“Nope,” he replies.
Brent and Nolan share a look, so I outright ask, “What’s going on?”
I receive no answer since the elevator dings at that exact second and the door opens.
Brent, placing his hand on the small of my back, says, “Come on. Let’s just get this stupid dinner over with.”
In the ballroom, I sit between him and Benny. Nolan and the goaltender, Breeze, are seated across from us. There’s a lot of good-natured small talk, but something is off down here too. I sense everyone knows something that I don’t. It has to be something related to the night Brent went out drinking.
Where’d they really go?
What’d they really do?
Do I even want to know?
My Genius Plan
Two more losses, and then we’re back in Vegas. There, the losing streak continues. Management is pissed, and Dolby calls to bitch me out.
Then it’s Jock’s turn.
“Did you get hit in the head with a puck or something?” he asks.
“No. Why?”
I hear him slamming things around on his desk. “Because your behavior on the ice lately has been unacceptable, Brent. Two brand new endorsement deals I was working on just went south. One bowed out after that stick-throwing incident in Toronto, and the other won’t return my calls. Not after that fight last night.”
Oh yeah, I got into a fight last game. That wasn’t so bad. But punching the linesman—though I swear it was an accident—earned me a two-game suspension.
“I got plenty of other endorsement deals,” I counter.
“You’re going to lose them too if you don’t shape up.”
“I promise to behave, Jock.”
“You better.”
I hang up and go outside for some much-needed air. It’s so fucking hot out here in desert-land, even though it’s now December.
Damn, I’m looking forward more than ever to spending time out east with Aubrey, where the weather’s been cold and snowy.