by David Connor
Erika lowered her brows, which had shot up before she could stop them.
“Not like that. I prefer dating one person at a time. Out of sight out of mind Booger rotated partners like The View changes cohosts.”
“Oh.”
Billy smiled.
“What?”
“Memories. Fantasies. We could have easily messed around. And just as easily, I could have fallen in love with the British jackass.”
“Wow.”
“I knew it was better just to play it off and then yank it while listening to him and someone else through our paper-thin walls—him and Tom Alan, eventually.” Billy picked up the coffee carafe and stared into it. “It hurt sometimes, but I had to protect my heart.” He came back to the present. “Jesus, I sound like a w—” Cutting himself off showed intelligence—or fear.
“You sound like a human being with feelings.”
“I guess. Back in the day, monogamy wasn’t really Milo’s goal. I’m over him now. The moment I saw him with Tom—”
“Tom Alan.”
“I knew that was going to be something. Then I met you.”
Erika handed him his mug from the other room.
“Oh. Thanks. You and me.” They both held onto it. “That was supposed to be something, too. Anyway…”
Erika let go.
“If Kensuke’s up front, it’s all good.” Billy poured his coffee. “If he’s just stringing Jesse along…that’s not right, is it? You know how emotional teenage girls can be.”
“As opposed to teenage boys?” Erika took several steps and glared.
“Teenagers in general.” Billy came closer. “Like we were…you literally, and me emotionally, maybe. I was a jerk and here I am ready to condemn Kensuke for the same thing.”
“Shh.” She put a finger to Billy’s lips but quickly took it away. She had to get to the door. “It’s not the same.”
Billy followed. “Maybe we’ve grown up some in two years.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe not all the way, though.”
Erika wondered what that meant.
“This thing with the kids, it’s a little bit like your situation, right? With Tom?”
“Tom Alan. And not really.”
“How not really?” Billy chuckled. He kept coming and Erika kept backing away. “You were in love with a gay guy until you met me.”
Maybe he was right.
“I’ve never loved anyone like I loved you, Rika.”
“Except maybe Randy…and Milo.”
“I loved you,” Billy said.
“I know.” Erika believed that and didn’t want Billy to doubt it, even as the ‘d’ on the end of ‘love’ punched her in the gut every time.
“It was complicated…you and Tom Alan…you and me.” The past tense was also inaccurate.
“If you and Kensuke are so tight…and you might identify the same in regards to your sexuality,” Erika said, “why don’t you talk to him?”
“Because we still live in a world where parents might yank their kids from the league the moment word gets out the coach is bisexual, that’s why.”
“Oh,” Erika said sadly.
“They all know I played girls’ hockey. I tell them right off the bat—age five to eighteen—there’s no gender discrimination on my ice. Of course, the five-year-olds have no idea what that means, but I try to show it. Back to your question, who I sleep with stays with me and the person sharing my bed.” Billy nodded toward the door to their left. Though he hadn’t dressed, the bed was made. The prickle from the fantasy Erika had enjoyed in the car was still tempting her. As Billy leaned in, purposely pressing his crotch into hers, she desperately wanted to let him quench the wanting in her heart, in her gut, and right where his dick was. She could tell he wanted her, too. “This bouncing back and forth between adult and immature is tough,” he said.
“All in a day for most men, I thought.”
“Hey! Why isn’t that sexist?”
Billy’s mouth came really close and Erika could not care less right then about being politically correct. “Because.”
“That’s not fair.” He twisted his sexy pink lips into a pout. They were the same shade as his nipples and the tip of his soft cock. Erika closed her eyes and tried to recall the feeling from mere moments ago, and the image from when he’d sat on his ugly couch. “But you’re…smoking hot, so I’ll let it pass.”
“Charming.” Erika was torn between grabbing his dick and kneeing him in the balls.
“Hmm. So, when can I bring him by?”
“Who?”
“Kensuke.” Billy played with her hair, a sure way to get her to say yes to anything.
“Oh. Today, I guess.”
“Cool.”
“I gotta go, though. Now.” She sidestepped under Billy’s arm and reached for the doorknob.
“My chauvinism and offensive ways or my confession?”
Erika smiled. “My sport. See you later. Bye, baby girl.”
Etsuko cared more about her cartoon and her toy than her mother’s departure.
“See you later, babe.” When Billy touched her face, Erika nearly melted.
Chapter 2
“Quad! That’s four!” Milo’s voice echoed off the walls of the rink.
Tom Alan held Erika in the crook of his elbow as they raced across in front of him. They turned together, and Erika tapped her toe pick into the ice half a second before Tom Alan flung her across it.
“One, two, threeeeee.”
Erika caught Milo’s grimace as she came down on her hip. “Shoot!”
“One more try?” Tom Alan held out his hand as he skidded to a stop beside her. “Nana korobo ya oki.” Fall down seven times, get up eight. It had been another of Nobuo Tsuchino’s favorites.
“I guess.”
“You guess.” Tom Alan swiped the smirk off his face with the hem of his undershirt, tending to an abundance of sweat along with it. “That’s my line.”
“Less talking, more jumping,” Milo said. Their coaches were away. Erika’s mother, Kyoko, was off in Japan, and though Irina Mischen, their other trainer, had moved downstate specifically to work with the pair, she was still an hour away, and did not come down every day. Milo was pretending to fill the role. “Hop to it, love, then we’ll break for lunch.” His silly demeanor and epithets like “love” took away a bit of his authority. “Your synchronicity’s a wee bit off.”
“On it, coach.” Tom Alan smiled.
They were working hard to get the quadruple flip back in time for Skate America in the fall. Unfortunately, the final try was the worst of all, as Erika landed on her butt once again. “Fuck!”
“Language, Flower.”
“Sorry, Mr. Fisher.” She flipped him off.
“We have company,” Tom Alan said, skating over to help her up again.
Billy stood with Kensuke and an additional person in one corner of the rink, maybe Jesse.
“Tom.” It often seemed intentional with Billy, especially when he and Tom Alan came face to face.
“Willie.” Tom Alan offered his pat retort.
“Sorry for the cursing.” Erika rolled her eyes as she turned to the kids.
“No worries,” Kensuke said. “I’ve uttered worse.”
Billy made the introductions. “Erika, Kensuke Sato. Kensuke—”
“I know who she is, coach. Damn, girl! You’re even more gorgeous than last night.”
Erika felt the heat rising in her cheeks. He was charming—and also a liar. Her hair pulled back, red and sweaty from exertion, she was anything but. “Say hi to Tom Alan.”
“Hey.” Tom Alan offered his hand. Kensuke’s eyes zeroed in on the bulge in his damp, light gray sweatpants instead.
“This is Jesse,” Billy offered.
“Hey, Jesse.”
“Hey.” The girl continued to cling to Kensuke. She was rail thin, and her blonde hair streaked with green was pulled back in a messy ponytail. An olive shirt hung down almost to he
r knees and her long, thin, denim clad legs were never still as she slid one foot and then the other back and forth on the ice.
“You want to take a couple of laps around the rink?” Tom Alan asked.
“What do you say, my lady?” Kensuke put his arm around Jesse, and she molded his hip to hers.
“I guess.” She seemed a bit shy, except for the way her hand was once again on Kensuke’s ass, doubtfully for the purpose of maintaining balance.
“Did you bring skates?” Erika asked.
“In the truck.” Billy leaned against the railing with a sleeping Etsuko in his arms. “Take the baby.” He handed her gently off to Milo, then headed out the door.
“Milo Fisher!” Kensuke pointed at him, stealing another look at another crotch. “I watched you guys at The Games. Mostly you guys.” He seemed to prefer Tom Alan’s. “Every competition you were ever in, actually. Well, as seniors. I’d have been a figure skater myself if it wasn’t so gay.” He pulled his fitted, red hoodie from his broad chest, a show of machismo, Erika presumed.
“Kensuke!”
“What?” Kensuke raised both palms. “It’s not a bad thing if it’s true, Jess.”
“The vast majority of male figure skaters competing today identify as straight.” Erika said. “That includes solo, pairs, and dance, just FYI. And I can only assume there are gay professional…I don’t know…rugby players.”
“Name one,” Kensuke challenged.
“She couldn’t name a straight one,” Tom Alan said.
“I’m going to the Olympics, yo. Then the NHL.” Standing proudly, his wide shoulders squared, he radiated confidence, even as Jesse seemed to shrink into herself. “Then maybe Hollywood.” He had an alluring, magnetic grin with a childlike exuberance that softened the ego and brashness.
“We know some people,” Tom Alan said. “Potential players for 2018. Maybe we can introduce you, even get a game going.”
“Sick!”
“Jesse? There’s a women’s team. Some of the 2014 players are friends?” Erika tried for eye contact, while Jesse seemed to prefer staring at the ice.
“Pass.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“When?” Kensuke asked. He directed everything he said toward Tom Alan, though rarely any part of him above the waist.
“Umm…next weekend, maybe?” Tom Alan said.
“Sweet! You know a lot of famous people, I bet, huh, Mr. Baranowski?” Mr. Baranowski. The kid was laying it on pretty thick. “Like Ben Thornton. I’ve seen you guys together on the skating and gymnastics thing on TV every year.”
“Ben and I are pretty good friends.” They were best friends. “And call me Tom Alan…please.”
“Cool. Tom Alan.” Kensuke bounced excitedly. “I can’t wait to see him in Rio next month. You going?”
“Maybe.”
Milo said, “No.”
Tom Alan had been asked to do a couple of spots for NBC—informal, touristy things for social media. Any sort of infamy trumped seasons when it came to TV ratings, apparently.
“Five days,” Tom Alan argued, and not for the first time. “We go down, we hang out on the beach, get some video on my cellphone, watch Ben and the team, and come home.”
“Home, love…that’s what this summer was supposed to be about. Home and training.”
“Being together…that’s what it’s about, Milo. Here, there, what’s the difference?”
“You should get with Ben Thornton,” Kensuke said. “That’d be hot.”
Milo stared at the kid, his mouth agape.
“I’m with Milo.” Tom Alan draped an arm across his shoulder. “And Ben’s married.”
“Adam Stoker. I know.”
When Kensuke licked his lips, Erika had a feeling his mind had gone to Adam’s X-rated acting debut, the one he might never live down.
“Pig.” Jesse knew where his thoughts were. She scowled, but then chuckled, just as Billy returned with the skates. “You think we can meet him, too?” Jesse finally put more than three words together.
“Adam? I don’t see why not,” Tom Alan said.
Kensuke followed his idol around like a shadow, during what was supposed to be break time, stretching and flourishing like no hockey player ever did. Erika and Jesse took slower laps, while Billy had the baby again on the sidelines and Milo stood beside them in the “pissed off woman stance.”
“So…” Erika decided to be a little bit nosy. “Are you and Kensuke, um, dating?” she asked.
A burst of laughter rang out as Tom Alan lifted Kensuke off the ice, interrupting any answer Jesse might have offered. Several girly giggles, giggles and twirls with Kensuke in the air. Erika chastised herself for the ‘girly’ bit as she took note of the look on Jesse’s face. Whatever her relationship with Kensuke was, something about him and Tom Alan having so much fun wasn’t sitting well. Milo, at the railing, gave off much the same vibe.
“Throw me!” Kensuke hollered excitedly.
“Yeah?”
“Tom Alan.” Erika felt the need to be the voice of reason.
“I wasn’t going to.” Tom Alan, it seemed, felt the need to whine like a child.
“Better bloody not be throwing no one but me,” Milo muttered.
Erika gave him side-eye.
“And you.”
“Come on!” Kensuke wouldn’t give up. “Not hard. I just want to know what it feels like.”
“I bet,” Jesse mumbled.
“Tom Alan is supposed to be on a break,” Milo snapped.
“Just once. Lighten up, One Direction.”
Billy barked. “One Direction.”
Erika still fought off a girly giggle of her own, even though Milo looked more like a short, muscled Redford to her.
“One time,” Kensuke repeated, “and I won’t bug him no more.”
“Anymore.” Dang it! How did Erika become the disciplinarian?
“Okay,” Tom Alan said, “but not hard.”
“I’m pretty sure he is,” Milo grumbled. Erika had thought pretty much the same thing.
“You don’t have a toe pick. So don’t even try to land on one foot.”
“Tom Alan…”
“I’ll be careful, Kiki,” he said.
“Chill, Rika. Let them play.”
Billy took the men’s side, what a shock. Men always stuck together—except when it came to Erika’s nickname. Billy had addressed her as “Kiki” only once. Tom Alan wouldn’t stand for it. “That’s what I call her.” He’d been quite territorial, quite the brute, back when he’d caught Erika sneaking out of Billy and Milo’s apartment weeks before their arranged marriage.
“Kensuke can take a fall or two.”
Erika actually preferred it when they fought over her.
“Don’t you need to get to class, Hockey Puck?” Milo took her side.
“Yeah. I better head out. Go to mommy.” He offered Etsuko and a kiss on the cheek. “I hate to miss the end of this little lovers’ spat, but we’re removing a rat’s liver today. Don’t wanna miss that either.” He offered Milo a gentle punch in the shoulder. “Hold onto your man, Booger.” Then Erika watched as he walked away. Billy’s scrubs were tight. He might have gained a little weight. God, she wanted him. Tearing herself away, she looked back just as Tom Alan and Kensuke circled past, all cozy and gleeful side by side. She couldn’t hold back her grin, looking at Milo and his scowl, until she looked at Jesse. Milo was a grown man. Jesse, pivoting on one blade to follow the action, was a kid.
“Ready?” Tom Alan asked.
Erika was surprised they hadn’t tripped over one another. Skating that close to someone else was not easy. Add an arm around the middle, and it was damned near impossible for such a novice. Erika hadn’t seen anyone take to it so quickly since the day she’d first met Tom Alan back in 2002.
“Do it, dude!”
“On three. One, two—”
An excited shriek from Kensuke interrupted the count.
“Three.” Tom Alan threw him. Kensuke mad
e a single revolution and actually landed flat on both blades. He held it, Erika was certain he did, but then he dropped to his knees.
“Motherfucker!”
Tom Alan kicked up snow as he slid up next to him. His whole face was laughing, and when he pumped his fist in the air, half of his shiny, wet torso was bared.
“Thanks, yo! That was fucking awesome!” Kensuke bellowed.
“You’re not too old to give figure skating a shot. Maybe not the Olympics, but at some level. How about you?” Tom Alan directed his dopey, precious smile at Jesse. “You want to try?”
“Pass.”
“I wouldn’t get to do that, even if I did,” Kensuke said. He crossed the ice on his knees, stopping in front of Tom Alan as if he might consider thanking him some more from that position.
“That’s enough.” Milo stepped between them. “The shape your quad is in, you need practice time, not fun time.”
Tom Alan looked at him. “For real?”
Milo’s lips never parted.
“We should eat,” Erika said. “Want to join us, Jesse? I brought sushi.”
“Pass.”
They dined while chatting. Erika pulled up the YouTube video of Milo from Sochi. “Maybe seeing it again will help us find the finesse we still haven’t captured,” she said, waiting through the spinning circle. Erika watched Kensuke and Jesse for reactions.
“Love is…frustrating. It’s natural. It’s certainly not controllable,” Milo said through the speaker on Erika’s phone. “Did I mention frustrating?”
“He was talking about me at the beginning,” Tom Alan said with a shrug.
“About us,” Milo amended.
“I’ve seen it!” Jesse showed exuberance for the first time since her arrival. “It’s kind of incredible.”
“I was told several times that the Olympic Games are not a place to bring up one’s political beliefs,” Milo had continued at the press conference following the free dance. “I can respect that. But this isn’t about politics, is it? This is about humanity. We go to places where we don’t agree with policy, but how can we go to places where people commit crimes against one another and not speak up? We have, of course. Some have refused to go. But sometimes we go and stay silent. How do we decide? Who decides? I’m not proud that I’m not the one making my own choices. I’m not proud that I often feel guilty about not saying, ‘Wait. This isn’t right.’ If I can’t speak against something, I can definitely speak up for someone. Listen to me. For what it’s worth, from one gay human being to another, believe my words. You are brave. You are good. You are fine. You are exactly what you were meant to be. You will love who you were meant to love. And though love is all of those things I said, love is worth it. It is a human emotion, and you are no less human than anyone else around you. Love is not easy. I’m sorry…I am truly, bloody sorry…that heartbreak and uncertainty and struggling with your emotions is the easiest part of falling in love for you. That isn’t fair.”