Wingmen are a Girl's Best Friend: Laketown Hockey

by A. J. Wynter

After breakfast, I cleaned up the dishes while Amber got ready for work. As she rushed down the stairs, my phone pinged with a text message. I smiled, hoping it was from Leo. I dried my hands on a tea towel and picked up my phone.

  “What’s up with you?” Amber paused with her hand on the front door.

  “I just got a text from Gunnar.” I held out my phone as if I had to provide evidence.

  “What does he want?”

  “He wants to know if I can meet him later.”

  Amber smiled and shook her head. “How badly do you want your shoe back?”

  “Ugh.” I groaned. “Come on, let’s go before Mel D fires both of us.”

  Seventeen

  Leo

  “Leonardo Rocci.” I didn’t have to open my eyes to know who was looking at me disapprovingly.

  “Hi, Ma,” I murmured and flopped my leg over the back of the sofa.

  My mom turned off the TV and flung the drapes open. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

  I rubbed my eyes and as the kitchen clock came into focus, I realized I’d been asleep on the sofa; Sportsnet had been blaring on the tv for three hours. I hadn’t planned on sleeping all day, but after the all-nighter with Faith and the grueling practice, I was done.

  “How was work?” I asked. I had lost track of what day it was, but for Mom to be home early it must’ve been a Wednesday, her short day.

  “It was work.” Mom hung up her purse and I heard her rustling around in the kitchen. “How was practice?”

  I stood and stretched. “Good.”

  “Wash your hands and cut up these onions.” Mom handed me a pound of white onions. I wasn’t in the mood for cooking, but my mom needed all the help she could get. She did all the cooking, but I was responsible for everything else. I did the maintenance at the house, took care of her very Italian garden in the backyard, and did all the cleaning. It was almost a full-time job, and it kept me busy. I wanted to get a job working for a local tradesman and provide more than just elbow grease around the house, but Ma insisted that hockey was my job.

  The onions were potent, and my eyes welled up with tears. “Mrs. Dawson called me today.” Mom said it nonchalantly but stopped peeling the garlic to look at me.

  “Yeah?” I sniffled and wiped at my eye with my forearm.

  “Don’t you be putting ideas into Faith’s head.”

  “What kind of ideas?” There was no way Mom knew what happened with Faith. The Laketown gossip scene was efficient, but the only people who knew about Tawny Rock were me and Faith, and Amber. And by now, maybe Coach.

  Mom swatted me with the dishtowel. “Fantasy ideas about Bruce.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “I don’t want you two going off ghost hunting.”

  “But…” I tried to reply.

  “No buts, Leonardo. Get these crazy ideas out of your head. The only thing you need to be thinking about right now is hockey.”

  “Fine.” I continued chopping. I knew when an argument against my scrappy mom was futile. “I made the skills competition.”

  Mom set down her knife and hugged me. “Of course, you did.” She was beaming. Mom had put me first all these years. She knew that the best way to get out of Laketown was to be a hockey player. Guilt surged through me when I looked at my mom. The biggest reason to get drafted wasn’t a truck or fame; it was the dark-haired lady next to me. She had put herself second ever since I made the rep team and now it was my turn to take care of her.

  Together we prepped the ingredients for her sauce. “Mrs. Dawson also told me that you and Faith are speaking again.” She was prodding.

  We’re doing more than speaking… My cheeks burned as I imagined the cuff up the head if I said that to my mom. “We’re friends.” I smiled.

  “That’s nice, Leo. I can’t believe it took you two this long to patch things up.”

  “Hey, Ma… who will cut the onions for you when I’m gone?”

  Mom gave a throaty laugh. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  “You might get lonely here.”

  Mom turned and leaned against the kitchen counter. The lace half curtain that I hated blew in the afternoon breeze and the tomato sauce started to simmer in the pot. She crossed her arms and looked at me with concern. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  “But I do.”

  Mom stepped behind me and leaned over my shoulder. “A little finer with those onions.”

  I continued chopping and Mom poured herself a glass of wine. She watched my knife work with an approving look on her face. “Maybe I’ll get a dog.”

  I stopped chopping. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m going to be retired soon and you’re going to be off playing hockey. Maybe it’s the right time to have a dog. Remember Bogs?” She smiled. “He was such a good boy.”

  “Mom. If you’re serious, I have someone you need to meet.”

  Eighteen

  Faith

  I wanted to wait for the right time to bring up the storefront idea to Mom. She’d called Amber and me in a panic. There was a ‘design emergency’, as she’d called it. Amber and I made our way to the Yates’ cottage as fast as we could. I was tired from the night before, but there was something about the word emergency and five cups of coffee that had me riled up.

  Design swatches, hardwood samples, and drapery fabric covered the table at the Yates’ Bunkie. “What’s the big emergency?” I rushed into the huge cottage, looking for signs of damage. It was just as we’d left it. The fans spun slowly in the cathedral ceiling, and the wall in the main room was still covered in squares of paint samples. I was expecting a flood, a fire, or even a family of raccoons living in the ensuite bathroom, but it was eerily perfect.

  Mom shifted the drapery samples around on the table and stood with her hand on her chin, staring at them with intensity. “The property manager is on her way. She didn’t give me any details except that we’re scrapping the entire bold cabana look completely.”

  “What?” Amber walked into the kitchen, her eyes studying the space. “I thought they’d all agreed on the mood board?”

  “They did,” Mom said. “They’ve changed their minds.”

  “It happens.” I shrugged. It wasn’t a rare occurrence. We once had a cherry kitchen installed and when the owner showed up and hated it, the brand-new kitchen was sent to the dump and we had to start over.

  We heard a car pull up and the three of us gathered in front of the table of samples. I hadn’t met the property manager, Monica, before but Mom had described her as difficult, and I could read between the lines.

  “Melanie D.” The woman who I assumed was Monica breezed into the room. She was wearing an ivory pantsuit, an oversized floppy hat, and a gold necklace that looked like it could double as an anchor chain for one of the Yates’ antique boats.

  Mom shook the woman’s hand. “Monica. Nice to see you.”

  “Pleasure.”

  “Monica, this is my daughter, Faith, and my design associate, Amber.”

  Monica didn’t even look at us. She set her handbag on the table. “We’re going to need to make some changes.”

  I looked at Mom and wondered about my role in this exchange. Were Amber and I supposed to stand there like table lamps and merely observe this rude woman?

  “Shall we get started?” Mom waved Amber and me to join her at the table.

  “First.” Monica pulled a leather folio out of her bag. “I’ll need you and your assistants to sign this.”

  I glanced at Amber, whose tanned cheeks had turned pink. She wasn’t used to being dismissed and called an assistant. I didn’t really care.

  “What is it?” Mom put her glasses on and picked up the document. “An NDA? Is this really necessary?”

  “Yes.” The woman’s voice was harsh. “The Yates are insistent.”

  “But I’ve worked with them for years…” Mom studied the agreement.

  “I know,” Monica said. “But if you’re bringing others into the process, they want
it all buttoned up.” She leaned on the table. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  Mom clicked her pen and signed the document. She pushed it across the table, and I took her pen and signed my name under hers. Amber picked up the document and proceeded to read it. It was a good thing she was on the team, as I felt foolish that I’d just signed it without knowing what the document said, just because my mom did. Amber seemed satisfied and signed as well.

  “Good.” Monica put the paper in the folder.

  “We’d like a copy of that for our records,” Amber said.

  Monica looked at Amber like she had just spoken Latin. “Of course.”

  Mom smoothed out some of the fabric samples. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what are the changes? We’re going to need some time to work with the new vision.”

  The screen door opened, and we turned to see a beautiful woman. She was tall and skinny and was wearing one of the most beautiful red silk dresses I’d ever seen.

  “Miss Yates.” My mom smiled.

  “Mel D.”

  The woman walked into the Bunkie and shook my mom’s hand. She had the stride of a model and I surmised that I was looking at supermodel Bronwyn Yates.

  Unlike Monica, Bronwyn looked me in the eye when she shook my hand and her smile seemed genuine.

  “Mel. I loved your ideas, but something has come up and we need to make some tweaks.”

  “Sure, Bronwyn. Where should we start?” Mom had a worn moleskin notebook and she handed it to me along with her pen.

  Bronwyn pulled the white sheet off the sofa. “Sit.” She gestured to everyone. After all the drop sheets were removed, Bronwyn smoothed her dress and took a seat in one of the oversized down chairs. She looked like she should be wearing a crown.

  “I apologize for the formality of the NDA,” she said. “But there’s a reason, and I think you’ll understand.”

  I tried to remain a casual observer, but in my head, I was on the edge of my seat.

  “We’re going to need a nursery.”

  I scrawled nursery in the notebook and then looked at the supermodel and her flat as a board stomach.

  She didn’t smile. She looked rather terrified. “Can I get you a glass of water?” Amber asked.

  “I’m fine.” Bronwyn brushed off the offer. “But I’m not in the mood for bold anymore. I want soothing and classic.”

  My mom shot me a knowing look. I had just won the paint color contest.

  “Congratulations, Bronwyn,” Mom said.

  “Sure.” Bronwyn cut off the pleasantries and I got the feeling that she was not overjoyed to be having a baby.

  “And for the nursery?” Mom spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. “Do you have a color scheme in mind?”

  “Not yet,” Bronwyn said. “But I wouldn’t want pink or blue anyway.”

  We all nodded.

  “But I don’t know what I want. That’s where you come in.”

  Mom was a professional, and so when she reached out to touch Bronwyn’s hand, I was shocked. “We’ll take care of it. But is there anything specific you’d like to see in the nursery? How do you want it to feel?”

  Bronwyn smiled at my mom and her shoulders dropped a little. “I guess I’d like it to feel warm, and I’m seeing velvet, maybe emerald, and teddy bears. Is that what you’re after?”

  “Exactly.” Mom patted her hand. “We will come up with some options for you.”

  What Bronwyn had described was only slightly helpful, but I got the feeling that Bronwyn didn’t know what the hell she wanted. But at least velvet emerald teddy bears gave us something to work with.”

  “Thank you,” Bronwyn said. Her voice was soft.

  My mom folded her hands in her lap. “Bronwyn. We will get on this right away, but what kind of… timeline are we working with?”

  I had to hand it to my mom, she was good at asking delicate questions without actually asking them.

  A little laugh escaped from Bronwyn’s heart-shaped lips. “About nine months.”

  Amber glanced at me and I knew what she was thinking – it was a little early in the pregnancy for such a big project.

  “But…” Bronwyn’s face was serious again. “I’m going to move here as soon as I can. As soon as the renovations are done actually.”

  I wrote: timeline – impossible in the notebook and held it so that Amber could read it.

  Bronwyn stood, and the rest of us followed suit. “I’m looking forward to seeing your concepts.” She shook all of our hands and her dress floated behind her as she left the Bunkie. The lightness Bronwyn brought to the space disappeared with her. Monica handed Amber one of the sheets. “Cover these sofas back up,” she ordered.

  Amber held the sheet in her hand but didn’t move.

  “As you can see, the situation is delicate.” Monica shoved her folio into her bag. “Bronwyn is moving here to get away from the limelight. If the media gets wind of this pregnancy, I’m holding all three of you accountable.” She’d finally addressed Amber and me directly with the point of her finger.

  Mom held up her hands. “We won’t breathe a word.”

  “And ladies…” Monica put her hands on her hips. “Bronwyn wants to move in immediately. The deadline for this project is one month, maximum.”

  “We’ll take care of it.” Mom smiled, keeping her composure.

  Monica left and took her angry energy with her. We all breathed a collective sigh as the woman’s car left the driveway.

  “Whoa,” I said.

  “Whoa is right,” Amber agreed. “It sounds like the baby daddy isn’t involved.”

  Mom glared at us. “You two– you signed the paperwork. I know that I don’t have to tell you, but keep your mouths shut. You know how this town works.”

  “Mom,” I groaned. “We won’t say anything.”

  Amber nodded. “I don’t know how she’s going to keep it a secret once she starts showing.”

  Mom opened a wallpaper book. “That’s not our problem. Our problem is figuring out how to give that new mom exactly what she wants when she has no idea what she wants.”

  I had the feeling this project was going to take up every second of our lives for the next month, but the retail space idea was still nagging at me. “Mom, we will get this done, I know we can do it. But there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Mom inhaled and looked at me dubiously. “Can it wait, Faye? We need to get on this project right away. It will be tight, but I don’t think that Bronwyn is all that demanding.”

  “Yeah, the demanding one is Monica.” Amber dragged out her name.

  I grabbed my mom’s arm to stop her from packing up the hardwood samples. “Mom, it’s important.”

  Amber smiled and moved so that she was standing beside me – a united front.

  My hands were shaking. “Mom, I have an idea.”

  “That wasn’t so hard.” Amber flopped onto the leather sofa at the Mel D Designs office. We’d decided that each of us would propose a design concept for Bronwyn, giving her three options – each with a slightly different flair. The execution for the Bunkie was going to have to be seamless, so we worked all day putting together our ideas. Mom promised that once we had an approved design plan in place, she would entertain the idea of the main street retail shop.

  To keep our ideas independent and our visions for the space pristine and free from each other’s influence, we didn’t share our concepts until they were done. I went with a nod to the Wizard of Oz, with gold fixtures and rich green accents. In the nursery, a gorgeous, understated wallpaper with hand-drawn terriers. They weren’t teddy bears, but I had the feeling my concept was going to speak to Bronwyn.

  “Want to go for a drive?” I asked.

  “Where?” Amber hauled herself to a seated position. “I could use a drink and maybe some French fries.”

  I slipped into my flip-flops and grabbed the keys to my car. “Come on, I’ll take you for some Chardonnay and fries if you come fo
r a drive with me first.”

  “Sounds a little fishy,” Amber said, but was already doing up her sandals. “Let’s go.”

  I drove from one end of Laketown to the other and back again, before Amber asked where we were going.

  “Hold on one second.” I stopped at the park. His tent wasn’t up, which is how I must’ve missed seeing Reggie the first time. His faded green coat practically blended into the grassland at the edge of the manicured lawn.

  Amber unclicked her seatbelt.

  “No. You stay here.” I was out of the car before she could protest.

  Reggie saw me coming and shot me a smile. “Hi, Miss Dawson.”

  “Hi, Reggie. I said I would wait, but I just can’t. Have you seen or heard from your friend?”

  Reggie’s eyes were kind. “I wish I had some news for you, but I haven’t heard from Slim yet.” Reggie rested his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get him to call you as soon as I see him. I promise you that. I’ll stand here and watch him dial.”

  “Thanks. I’m so sorry for harassing you.”

  He was missing two front teeth, but that didn’t stop him from grinning. “A pretty girl stopping to see me – I’ll take that harassment any day,” he chuckled. “Your friend, however, that might be harassment. Leo has come here every day.”

  I felt like I was going to cry but held it together. “I’ll tell him to dial it back, Reggie.”

  “Ah.” He waved his hand. “I don’t really care. He brings me sandwiches, so he can keep ‘em keep coming.”

  I laughed. Leo hadn’t told me he was coming to see Reggie. We had agreed to wait until Reggie’s friend had called with specific information. Leo had been the one who’d stopped me from driving way out to Corstead on the hunt for a man we knew nothing about – except his nickname.

  “Bye, Reggie.” I waved and jogged back to the car.

  When I got in, Amber had the air conditioning blasting. “Anything?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No. He’s going to make sure his contact calls me as soon as he sees him. I’m starting to get a little impatient. Maybe I should just drive up there.”