HOT ICE: Complete Sporting Romance Series

by Lily Harlem

  “Was it Todd?” Raymond asked.

  “Randall,” one of the other customers answered over his shoulder.

  I watched the replay. Randall had scored but Todd had touched the puck three seconds before for the assist, making the unselfish decision to pass when he didn’t have an opening.

  “And that is surely going to have the Penguins quaking in their skates,” the commentator shouted. “It just goes to show what a match made in heaven Randall and Carty are.”

  “You better watch him then,” Raymond said, shaking his head.

  “He’s married,” I said. “To a very pretty doctor called Rachel.”

  “Good.”

  The first period flew by. No more goals were scored though both teams were trying their hardest. Part of me was bracing for the commentator to make a sleazy remark about Todd and his relationship with a gay New York photographer, but as the game went on I began to hold out hope that he was a professional and only interested in the hockey side of Todd’s life and what he contributed to the game.

  Halfway through the second period, Todd was slammed against the Plexi by Hugh Butler, a Penguins defender.

  “And that was unnecessary,” shouted the commentator. “Carty didn’t have the puck.”

  I set my beer down and leaned forward. A chill went up my spine. Todd had regained his balance and was skating away, but Butler was following him with decidedly evil intent in his eye.

  I’d seen that kind of glint before.

  The ref gave a warning as the puck went up the ice, Jake in control. Todd started to follow but Butler, undeterred by the ref, hooked his skate from under him. Todd went sprawling, then was up, rounding on Butler. The Rangers’ captain Marco was there, too, as were two linesmen. I saw Butler shouting in Todd’s face.

  “And the gloves are off,” bellowed the commentator.

  I watched two sets of gloves fly through the air at the same time as sticks went down and helmets skidded across the ice. Before anything had landed or come to a halt, Todd threw a punch at Butler’s jaw.

  Butler retaliated instantly, the force of his hit snapping Todd’s head backward.

  “Ah, fucking son of a bitch,” I yelled, leaping up.

  “And here they go. Carty and Butler are firing punches at center ice,” the commentator jabbered as I watched, helpless and horrified. “Butler got his arm free there and landed another one. Carty can’t quite get one home. No, there he goes, that one’s gotta hurt. Oh, and that one.”

  The two players were holding each other with their left hands, twisting and tugging jerseys, their right hands were flying punches, some missing but many making painful impacts.

  “Oh my God,” Raymond cried. “I can’t watch.”

  The crowd was cheering wildly, the linesmen circling. A loud Nickelback song was being played into the rink.

  “And there goes another fight.” The commentator sounded both excited and disbelieving. “This time it’s Marco Paul and Rhet Fell. God only knows what the hell is going on here, but those two guys are just pounding away at one another.”

  The camera panned in on Marco and Rhet, jerseys were up around ears, hands and arms flying wildly. Rhet went down onto his knees. Two linesmen quickly grabbed Marco and pulled him backward. I could see fury flashing in Marco’s eyes. There was a streak of blood over his cheek.

  “And that was over quickly but Carty and Butler are still going for it. Just look at the beating they’re giving each other.”

  I could barely bring myself to watch the man I loved taking such a pounding. But I was also compelled to watch, and actually, I noticed, he was giving as good as he got. Even when he staggered down to one knee he was quickly up again, raining down more blows as he found his balance and forced Butler backward on the ice, toward the edge of the rink.

  “Talk about throwing bombs and dynamite,” the commentator shouted. “That’s what these two players are doing. I don’t think they’ll be happy until there’s a knock-out.”

  “Jesus, why don’t the refs stop it?” Joel said.

  I was going to vomit. I was sure of it. “God, I feel so helpless.”

  “He’s taking care of himself,” Gareth said, resting a hand on my arm. “He looks mad as hell. I wonder what sparked it? Has he got a history with that guy?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Is it over?” Raymond wailed, slapping his hands over his face and peeking between his fingers.

  “No,” we all said at once.

  “And this is going on forever. Number six Todd Carty from the Rangers and number eighteen Hugh Butler for the Penguins. Carty got some good punches in at the start, paid for them, but now he’s thundering them back out again like a man possessed.”

  They were both looking tired now. Todd’s hair was wild, his eyes flashing and his teeth gritted. I could see a dark mark on his cheek. They were hanging on to one another as much as they were trying to throw punches. Todd’s jersey was right up his back, his flesh exposed as the material bunched around his shoulders.

  Jake skated up, tried to intervene but was blocked by a linesman. Zhirov did the same, shoving to try and get through. It seemed everyone wanted a slice of the action. Though whom Zhirov wanted a piece of I wasn’t sure.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I shouted at the screen. “Call it a day already.”

  Suddenly Butler managed a low hit, one that caught Todd right in the side, a slicing rib punch. He followed it with a dirty kidney strike.

  Todd went down, crumpled to the ice.

  The linesmen were over him instantly.

  My head spun. I couldn’t catch my breath.

  “It’s over,” Joel said, knocking back his drink then slamming down his glass.

  “That Butler is one dirty son of a bitch,” Gareth said.

  “It looks like Randall and Marco think the same,” Joel said.

  Marco and Jake were both being held back from Butler. I could see them all shouting at one another. Zhirov joined in with the tirade of abuse. Angry faces, sharp words. Refs struggling to contain bloodthirsty Rangers players. All the Rangers on the ice were skating behind their captain, looking menacing. Even Sinclair had come out of the net. Both benches were standing and most of the players had at least one leg over the boards.

  “And we’re going to have to come to our own conclusions as to what started this war on ice,” the commentator said. “But I don’t think you have to be a genius to guess that a picture of Todd Carty kissing another man splashed all over the national press has got something to do with it. Whatever the hell Butler said to him, it riled him enough to go for blood and now, one thing’s for sure, there’s going to be some impressive bruises tomorrow. And that’s a game misconduct for each player, and five for Fell for drawing blood.”

  “Todd’s not getting up,” I said, rubbing my hand over my head. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Here come medics,” Joel said.

  Sure enough, two medics were racing toward Todd.

  “And it looks like Carty needs medical attention,” the commentator said. “We’ll hopefully be able to bring you an update when we come back for the third period.”

  A commercial for insurance flashed on to the screen. I hit mute.

  My hands were shaking and my stomach was clenched as though I’d been struck. I didn’t know whether to stand up or sit down. Whether to knock back my drink or throw up what I’d already swallowed.

  “Oh my, that was just awful,” Raymond said, finally taking his hands from his face. “Matthew, shit, what are you going to do? You must feel so terrible.” He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tight.

  I hugged him back and stared over his shoulder at Joel and Gareth.

  “I’m sure they’re making it out to be more serious than it is. You know, to be dramatic for the viewers,” Joel said.

  I huffed. “Those last few hits must have hurt.”

  “Butler looked in a bad way, too,” Gareth said. “He won’t be able to see much for a w
eek. Did you see his eyes?”

  Raymond released me, sat and picked up his drink. “This is just awful. This is what happens when you get involved with men who play such a violent game.”

  “I’ve followed the NHL all the years I’ve lived here and I’ve never known Todd to get in a fight before, not like that.” I shook my head. “Like the commentator just speculated, something was said that wound him up. Something was said by Hugh Butler and I think we can guess what kind of vile crap it would have been.”

  The only thing reported about Todd during the third period was that he was still receiving medical attention. I tried his cell three times but there was no answer. I left a message, telling him I was worried and to call me, but it felt so hollow and inadequate when all I wanted to do was be with him, hold him. Kiss away the pain.

  Not wanting to be alone, I stayed at Rizzles until late. Joel cooked us chicken and fries and tried to distract me with a game of basketball on the TV. I couldn’t eat the food and just stared at the game without watching it.

  I was just debating whether to head home or back to JFK and get on a flight to Pittsburgh when my cell rang.

  Todd’s name flashed on the screen.

  “It’s him,” I said to the others, hitting accept. “Todd, Jesus, I’ve been so worried. Are you okay?”

  “Is that Matthew?” Not Todd’s voice.

  “Er, yes, who is this?”

  “It’s Marco Paul, captain of the Rangers. I’m using Todd’s phone so I have your number.”

  “Who is it?” Joel mouthed.

  “Marco Paul, oh, hi. Yeah, we met, last week.”

  “I remember.”

  Joel rolled his eyes and lifted his palms to the roof. “I’m the Rangers fan and he gets Marco Paul calling.”

  I turned away, fear rattling through me. “How’s Todd? I watched the fight.”

  “He’s at the hospital.”

  “At the hospital!” Right, now I was definitely going to Pittsburgh.

  “They wanted to check him over properly. He was showing signs of concussion. He took some bad hits to the head. Also they’re concerned he might have a couple of broken ribs.”

  “I should come to Pittsburgh.”

  “No, they said he’ll be out by morning. It’s just a precaution keeping him in. By the time you arrive he’ll be getting ready to head back to New York.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I paused. “Have you called his father?”

  “I just spoke to him.”

  “And how was he?”

  “Understandably anxious but Derek’s an old-timer, he’s seen this kind of thing before on the ice.”

  “With Todd?”

  “To be honest, no. He’s never known him to go for anyone like that.”

  “What happened?” I faced the bar again. Raymond, Joel and Gareth were hanging on every word I said.

  Marco hesitated, then, “What the hell, you’ll find out anyway.”

  “Find out what?”

  He sighed. “Butler called him a fag and then made a particularly derogatory comment about you.”

  That sick feeling was back. It was exactly what I’d feared. Homophobes were everywhere, locker rooms were notorious for them. “What did he say about me?”

  Marco swallowed noisily but didn’t speak.

  “Like you said, I’ll find out sooner or later.” My voice was firm, it had to be, I needed to know what we were up against.

  He cleared his throat. “He called you a rope-sucking ass-wrangler and wanted to know why Todd preferred packing fudge to fucking pussy.”

  The breath that was in my lungs froze—it had been a long time since I’d heard anything so bigoted and disgusting. I sat heavily on the stool.

  “Matthew?” Marco said.

  I was aware of Raymond rubbing a circle on my back, right between my shoulder blades. “Breathe,” he said quietly.

  I managed to pull in oxygen. Just as well because there were little black spots dancing around in my vision. Though it could have been rage rather than hypoxia causing them. “No wonder Todd went for him,” I said through gritted teeth. “I would have, too.”

  “And I don’t think Butler would have fared very well with you either, Matthew.” Marco paused. “But either way the son of a bitch looks a mess and will for a few weeks. Not only that, there’ll be a formal inquiry.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, he can’t get away with saying shit like that on the ice. We’re professionals, it’s the game that counts, not what gender you date.”

  I paused. “It’s good to hear you say that.”

  “This is bigger than you think, Matthew. You and Todd.”

  I knew that, but I wanted his angle on it. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s not many athletes brave enough to come out the way he has and certainly not in the major sports. I don’t think it’s going to settle down in a few weeks. This is going to be a long haul and it’s bound to get pretty fucking messy.”

  “I agree.”

  “But it’s a great step forward for the NHL. We need to show that we’re accepting and that there won’t be abuse or discrimination for gay players. I just hope you feel able to stand by him when the going gets tough.”

  “Absolutely. This is what he wants, and I just want to make him happy.”

  “Good to hear. Now you know where I am if you ever need anything, or if you’re worried about him. I’ll get my cell number sent over to you. Anytime, okay? I want to be here for both of you.”

  “Er, yeah, okay. And thanks for letting me know how he is.”

  “It’s my job as captain to speak to wives, girlfriends and, I guess, boyfriends, too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eventually I wandered home. Slept fitfully then woke to my cell ringing with Todd’s name, once again, flashing on the screen.

  “Todd? That you?”

  “Hey, yeah, it’s me.”

  “Oh, thank fuck. How are you feeling?” I sat bolt upright.

  “Like I’ve been run over by a damn bulldozer. I should have killed the bastard before he got me in the side like that.”

  “It was awful. I wish you were back in New York already.”

  “They won’t let me fly today.”

  “What?”

  “I was kept in for possible concussion and they’ve recommended waiting twenty-four hours before I board a plane.”

  “Shit, really. Okay, I’ll get on a flight to you.”

  He laughed then moaned. “Fuck, it hurts to laugh.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, hating the thought of that beautiful body being anything less than perfect and worse than that, giving him pain.

  “And anyway,” he said a little breathlessly. “You have the exhibition tomorrow.”

  “That’s not going anywhere. It’s set to run for eight weeks. I’ll turn up another day. I’m coming to Pittsburgh, now.”

  “Don’t be so damn crazy. Listen, I’ll give the girls in the rink office a call, get them to find me the first flight to New York in the morning. I’ll be back in time to come with you to the launch. If, of course, you don’t mind your date looking like he’s been in a damn boxing ring.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. But you okay for a flight then going out?”

  “I just wanna be with you.”

  “And I want to be with you, too.” My heart swelled with love. “Marco called me last night.”

  “Yeah, he said. Was he friendly?”

  “He was charming.”

  “Really?” Todd sounded a little surprised.

  “Yeah, really, said you coming out was good for the sport. He wanted me to know I could go to him at any time if I was worried about you.”

  “I guess what Raven said about him wanting to keep me sweet was right.”

  “Mmm, I think it was more than that, he sounded genuine. I wasn’t sure at first, because I didn’t get great vibes from him in the players’ lounge. But he couldn’t have been nicer last night.” I hesitated. “That Bu
tler guy is going to be the center of an inquiry apparently.”

  “Yeah, Marco told me that, and good, he can’t get away with such foul opinions or be so fucking rude about the guy I’m in love with.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. “Yeah, he’s got a real messed-up mind using language like that.”

  Todd hesitated. “Marco didn’t tell you what he said, did he?”

  “I made him. Like I said when all this started, I need to know what you’re up against if I’m going to help you.”

  “I wish you hadn’t found out. It was revolting.”

  “But luckily not the opinion of the majority.”

  “Yeah, I know. Most of the guys have been great. They’re not bothered that I have a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend. They just want me to do my job and not come on to them in the shower. But there’s a few, Zhirov included, who, although not saying much, are pissed about it. There’s going to be more fucking trouble down the line.”

  “Let’s hope it’s contained.”

  “We can hope.” He gave a grim laugh as though not expecting it to be, and then groaned.

  “Your ribs?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  I ordered him to rest all day and we said our goodbyes.

  Feeling much better for speaking to Todd, I went to Theodore’s to go over the selection for the third wave of photographs. Carmen was anxious to get them off to the printers as soon as possible.

  We chose more erotic pictures. I guess it was the mood I was in. I was in love and lust and wanted my man back, bruised and battered or not. And that meant my mind kept wandering down the route of erotica. Sweet and sexy images that showed people loving and trusting each other and the absolute beauty of the naked male body.

  *****

  On Saturday morning, I collected my tux from the cleaners, went to the barber’s then spent the afternoon washing my sheets and tidying the apartment. I was hoping Todd would stay the night. I would happily go to his, but I wanted to be ready for him to come to my place if that’s what he chose.

  I checked my top drawer. Made sure I had condoms and a new tube of lube. My cock stiffened in my pants just looking at them and thinking that tonight could be the night. Though of course Todd might not be up for anything more than a cuddle, given his beaten-up state.