by Mary Smith
“I remember. Everyone was sound asleep, but I was wide awake.”
Vance reaches for my hand and I pull away. I’m not ready for him to touch me. He hugged me earlier, but he took me more by surprise.
The announcement comes, and we are prepping to take off. Everyone seems settled in their seats and the hum of the plane begins. I close my eyes and count to ten.
There’s no turning back now.
We land in Boston after what seems to be a thousand hours later. Soon, we’re all piled into a stretch hummer heading off to the hotel. Everyone is excitingly talking except Vance and me. He almost looks like he may faint, and I have nothing to contribute to the conversation.
As we stop in front of the hotel, I suddenly feel like Vance looks. A lot happening in a short amount of time, and it is taking a toll on me. I’m truly in need of a nap.
Mr. Pemberton goes to the desk and checks us all in as I gaze at the stunning hotel. This is certainly an old hotel, but fabulously upkept. The gold and bright paintings fit perfect with the Victorian period furniture placed in the lobby.
When Mr. Pemberton comes back to us, his face show how pissed he is. “My assistant screwed up the reservations.”
“How so?” Mrs. Pemberton asks.
“There are only four rooms. She didn’t book Dacey’s room.”
Of course. “I’ll just go see if they have any availability.” I sigh.
“They don’t. I asked already. With the draft, everything is booked. There are no rooms.” Mr. Pemberton explains.
An outburst of words begins; the women are trying to figure out who I’ll room with and who will take Vance. The thrashing of words makes it obvious no one wants to trade rooms.
“Stop,” I hear myself say and everyone quiets. “I’ll just stay with Vance in his room.” My father will die when he finds out about this, but it’s better than the bickering.
Everyone focuses on me, and Mrs. Pemberton is the one who responds. “Are you sure dear?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I have a headache and I want to lie down.”
“Of course.” She places her arm around my shoulder and guides me toward the elevators.
After we all make it to our designated floors, I follow Vance to our room. Our room. I know it’s a mistake, but I watch Vance open the door and maneuver our bags to get inside the door.
“I can carry my own bags,” I inform him, even though we’re already in the room.
“It’s no problem.” He begins sitting everything down. “I’m going to step in…here…for a second.” He points to the bathroom.
“Sure.” I step out of his way and go over to my suitcase beginning to unpack. I don’t want to have anything wrinkled if we end up on TV when they announce Vance’s name. I want to be presentable.
When I finish, I take a seat in the very uncomfortable chair, rubbing my temples.
“You okay?”
I glance up at Vance. “I’m fine.”
He stares at me before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk now? Or wait until later?”
I shrug. “I guess now is okay.”
He shakes his head. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”
I glance at him and turn my head away, gazing out the window at the Boston skyline. This is a time I can’t be shy, meek Dacey. This is my life. My future. It’s high time I put myself first. Vance obviously did four times. Well, with four women. I truly don’t want to know how many times.
Time and time again my life has been planned by someone else, but not this time. I’m taking over. If Vance wants this, it’ll be on my terms or I’ll go home, find a job, and begin a different path than I originally planned.
“I want to talk now,” I state firmly, adjusting myself in the chair, facing him. “We most definitely should talk now.”
The pained expression on his face deepens. “Whatever you want to say or do, I will understand.”
“I’m hurt, angry, and hurt.”
Vance opens his mouth, but I throw up my hand.
“Don’t say it. I’m well aware I said hurt twice, but it’s what I feel the most. Also, I gave my word to you to remain faithful and pure while you were gone; no matter what you were off doing.” I jump up from the chair and pace.
“Dacey—”
“Stop. Until I’m done, stop talking.” I pace more. “I have gone to school and come home. I never went to parties or gatherings not approved by my parents. I definitely couldn’t go to any with boys there. I had to beg my mum and dad to let me choose my own major, which,” I sigh, “ended up being nothing but a simple general education degree because I didn’t want to tell them my real choice so I wouldn’t have to hear them complain about it.” I realize my voice is rising, and I stop pacing to look at him.
“Dacey I’m so sorry everything is falling apart.” He seems genuinely saddened. “However, I’ve never been so happy and grateful as I was to see you at the airport. I fucked up and not talking to you made me understand how much.”
I sit back in the chair, resting my elbows on my knees, holding my head in my hands. No, it’s not a very lady-like position, but my head really is pounding from the stress of my life. Is there a solution to give us a happy ending? Or is this wasting both of our time?
“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
I lift my head. “What Vance? We could easily part ways and forget all about this. You can stay here and be with whoever you want. I can go back to Belfast and see if there’s a job out there I’m qualified for. And we’d be…done.” Saying the word broke my heart a bit. Is done what I want? I’ve spoken to Vance almost every day for the past eleven years. I already knew how I felt not talking to him the past week. Now, imaging every day feels weird. I told him if I came here I’d give it a go, but now I’m more confused now.
“I don’t want to be done, Dacey,” Vance states. “You might not believe this, but you are the one person I can count on in my life.”
I shake my head. “You’re lying. Sure we’ve chatted or whatever you want to call it, but you never told me anything. Maybe you would miss our three minutes conversations, but there’s nothing else.”
“I care for you, Dacey. You must know it.”
“But I don’t know.”
Vance drops his head. “How can I prove it to you?”
Before I can answer him, a knock comes, and he goes to the door. On the other side is Gerald telling him he needs to get ready for his media interviews. When Vance comes back over to me, he says nothing. He just gives me a small smile and heads off to change into his suit, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Chapter Twelve
Vance
Interview after interview, I keep up my excitement about the draft tomorrow. Yes I am, but Dacey weighs heavy on my mind. Since she walked away from me at the wedding, all I’ve done is work out and hide in Apollo’s spare room.
Then it came to me what I real wanker I’d been. Selfish. Inconsiderate. A downright prick is the way I describe myself. I treated Dacey worse. All my life I’d seen the way my parents were, and I promised myself it wouldn’t be me.
How quickly I forgot?
For all my life, my parents have put on this façade of the perfect family. It’s all been lies, and we knew it. Their word means nothing to me, but I want to be better. If, or when, I have kids I want to support them, care for them, and above all, love them.
And their mother.
As I finish my last interview, Gerald leads me back to the hotel. We find Mum and all the girls in the restaurant located in the hotel.
“Where’s Dad and Apollo?” Gerald asks as I blatantly stare at Dacey.
She’s gorgeous sitting there in her pink blouse with her strawberry blonde hair flowing around her. I desperately want to talk more with her, but won’t be doing it in front of my family. This is something we need to do alone. Our future no longer involves them. No matter what they think.
“I’m going to change,” I announce still staring
at Dacey hoping she follows so we can talk.
As I walk into the room, I jerk off my tie and hang up the jacket before sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off my button down. The reality of my life suddenly hits me. I’m about to be drafted. At least, I’m hoping and praying I will be.
All my hard work has been for this moment. The question is where will I go? Several teams have contacted Gerald about me, but we’ve not figured out which team wants me the most. I know the stories of promising draftees who never find a home in the PHL.
“Are you okay?”
I whip my head up and see Dacey in front of me. Her cheeks are pink, and I notice she’s trying not to stare at my chest.
“I’m good.” I stand. “I want to continue our talk.”
“Not shirtless,” she whispers.
“It’s not the first time you saw me without shirt.” I remind her with a smirk.
“I was thirteen when I first saw you shirtless.” Her face turns a deeper shade of red.
“We went on holiday with both of our families in France.” I smile at the memory. It was also the first time I saw her in a bathing suit. My memory recalls her father wasn’t happy, but it was something I’ll always remember.
“You’re bigger now.” She’s still whispering. “Guess all the training helps.”
“It does.” My smirk deepens. This is the Dacey I know: Cute, meek, shy, and always blushing. I’m happy to see she’s still in there. “I’ll go change since I’m making you uncomfortable. I don’t want to that.”
She nods, stepping to the side to let me pass.
When I come out a few moments later, I’m in a comfortable pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I intentionally left my belt open and top button of the jeans undone. Just to work a small rise out of Dacey.
Mean of me?
Yes, but she seems to be more herself when I make her a little uncomfortable. She sits in the chair, and I take my place on the bed. We need to talk about the sleeping arrangements too. I’m sure I’ll be on the floor or in the chair.
“How were the interviews?”
“They all seemed to go well.” I nod. “Where did Mum drag you off to?”
“A mall, of sorts. I didn’t have a choice.” She shrugs.
“I’m sure you did not.” Mum doesn’t take no for an answer from anyone. “I hope you had fun at least.”
“I’m thinking it more like an interrogation.” She stifles a laugh.
“Sorry,” the sad tone is overwhelming from me. “I know it couldn’t have been fun.”
She shrugs again. “Do you know where you’re going yet?”
“I don’t know for sure. Gerald thinks it’ll be between Las Vegas, Nebraska, or New Hampshire.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Vegas would be cool, but New Hampshire is the ideal fit.” We were quiet for a moment and I finally ask, “No matter where I go, you’ll come with me right?”
Dacey looks out our window and says nothing.
“I want you to. We could get married when we get back to Belfast. Be in America by training camp.”
She still doesn’t look at me, making me worry.
“Van—”
A pounding on the door interrupts her. I growl, standing up to answer the door. I find Dad on the other side of it with a beer in his hand.
“Listen,” he pushes his way through. I notice he’s dressed casually in jeans and a polo. “I need you both right now.”
“Why?” I shut the door.
“This fuck who I’m dining with is a fucking hockey nut.” He cusses louder and takes a big swig of beer. “I told him about you and since he’s got fucking hard-on for family values, I told him about you too.” He nods and glances at Dacey.
“I’ll go.” I sigh. “I’ll play the perfect son.” As I always do.
“Yes, you fucking will. I need this so I can finish buying off the block to put up a plaza. And I need Dacey too.” He goes to grab at her, but I jump in between them.
“I said I’ll go. I know how to play along. Dacey doesn’t need to be subjected to you.”
“Get it through your thick, dumb skull: family values.” He reeks of alcohol, and I figure he’s been drinking all morning.
“I’ll go.” Dacey jumps up behind me. “Please, stop yelling, and I’ll go.”
“You both have five minutes to get your asses downstairs to the bar.” He pokes my chest and rushes out the door.
I turn to Dacey. “You don’t have to go.”
“It’s fine.”
I take a deep breath, pushing my hands through my hair. “If you do go, then just play along. Try laughing at Dad’s jokes and smiling. Mum does that a lot, and it works.”
She nods and I say a quick prayer nothing goes wrong.
Just before we walk in, I stop her. “Okay, if this guy is about family values, then we need to pretend to be in love.”
She looks at me for a beat before taking my hand. “Then we’re in love.” Her voice is shaking.
“If it gets too bad for you, just say you’re not feeling well, okay?”
She nods, and I give her hand a small squeeze. We walk in together and see Dad with a bald man around his age. Dad’s hair plugs have held tight and only a few people know he’s had them done.
“Dad.” I put on my best fake smile and he stands to hug me and kisses Dacey’s cheeks.
“Ryan, let me introduce you to my youngest son and one of the PHL’s top draftees, Vance. And next to him my future daughter, Dacey. Kids, this is Ryan McDaniels, owner of Verse Corporation.”
We all shake hands with greetings before taking our seats. I order a scotch and Dacey a white wine. The conversation dives into hockey right away. Mr. McDaniels is a huge fan and we are in-depth analyzing players, games, and teams. It’s actually nice to talk to someone who understands the difference between a backhand, forehand, and a deke.
“What about you, Dacey?” Mr. McDaniels asks. “Which teams do you like the most?”
I’m suddenly nervous if she’ll be able to pull this off and I glance at Dad who’s the same.
“Well,” she puts her wine glass down. “I’m partial to the Portland Kings. Their captain is amazing on and off the ice. Next to that, probably the Alabama Blacksmiths. Their win in the final game kept me on the edge of my seat.”
I’m dumbfounded.
“So, you’re able to watch games in Ireland?” Mr. McDaniels seems impressed.
“Yes,” Dacey smiles. “I have a PHL subscription, and I catch clips and highlights through Facebook and YouTube.”
“Resourceful.” Mr. McDaniels grins. “Do you have a favorite team?”
“Of course. The one who drafts Vance.” She softly giggles, and we all laugh.
Throughout the next hour, I learn more about Dacey and her love of hockey. Her knowledge is uncanny. After another round of alcohol, there is more laughter and talk of hockey.
When the drinks are gone, and Mr. McDaniels agrees to do business with Dad, Dacey and I decide to leave and go eat. As we walk out, we still holds hands all the way out the way of the hotel.
Chapter Thirteen
Dacey
Vance holds the chair for me as I sit down. “What’s this place?”
“Just a hole-in-the-wall, as they say.”
“What?”
“A family restaurant,” he explains, sitting across from me.
The place is small, smells of grease, and doesn’t seem to be the cleanest of establishments, but Vance’s face glows with happiness. I’m not exactly sure why.
The waitress comes over and takes our drink order. I stick with water since I already had wine. I have no plans on getting smashed tonight.
“I’m getting a chicken sandwich. What about you?”
“I think a simple salad will be fine.” I flip through the menu again to see if I missed anything.
“That’s it?” He put his down and looks at me. “You can get whatever you like.”
“A salad,” I confirm
and the waitress appears for us to give her our order.
When she leaves again, Vance rests his arms on table, leaning forward. “Thank you for this evening. Helping Dad out. You didn’t have to.”
“I did nothing for him.”
Vance furrows his brow.
“I did it for you.”
“What?”
“I went for you. My eyes have been opened to your parent’s behavior. No offense. I can’t handle your father’s words toward you anymore.”
It made me ill to hear his tone and belittling attitude toward Vance. There’s no need for it. Vance has his good points, and I’m aware of his bad. But those are our hang-ups and what we need to work through.
“Thank you, Dacey. That means a lot to me.” He gives me a sincere smile. “Um…do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“When did you start liking hockey so much?”
Deep down I knew that would be the question. “My arranged loves it. It’s his one true passion. If I wanted to be part of his life, I had to know about it as well.” I should have stopped, but, “I thought one day you and I would talk more, and I could tell you, but it never happened.”
Vance grips my hand. “It’ll all change. I promise. I swear.” He holds on tightly. “I’ll beg if I have to if you’ll give me another chance.”
I need to tell him I already made my decision, but I’m waiting until tomorrow evening after the draft. He has enough stress going on and I don’t want to be the cause of more.
“I want us to talk this all though and come to a conclusion,” he pushes.
I make an effort to smile and change the subject to hockey. I tell him about the games I’ve watched and the teams I like, figuring he would rather talk about it than us. Or more likely, me.
When our food comes, Vance goes into detail about his workout routine and training. I knew he worked out a lot, but he’s over the top.
When we finish our food, Vance takes my hand again, and we stroll back to the hotel. It’s later than I realize when we walk into the room. I’m suddenly tired. I lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling.