by RJ Scott
“Jamie,” I said.
He puffed up. “True, but Ten has some moves. Brady is too old and slow to dazzle anyone on a breakaway,” Jamie tossed out and got a playful slug in the arm from Brady.
After that, it was some loose hockey talk, thoughts on next season for our teams. Joy thanked us after the lights had been packed up, and we were saying goodbye in the yard.
“You have no idea how much being picked for this means to me.” She shook my hand firmly, her smile wide, the hot winds whipping around my parents’ tidy house ruffling her long, black hair. “Thank you again.”
“Anytime.” I leaned into Jared and gave a wave to the van that carried the crew off down our lovely little middle-class street. “She was nice.”
“Pretty too,” Jared tacked on. I gave him a quick sort of oh-really-now glance. He kissed the side of my head. “Not as pretty as you, though.”
“Pfft, yeah, right.” I laughed, took him by the hand, and led him back into the air-conditioning. The gang was still in the kitchen, cleaning up the coffee mugs and coffee cake crumbs that were all over the table.
“I have to head to the store.” Dad gave me a shoulder squeeze and shook Jared’s hand. “I’ll see you two for the big day. Try not to be too nervous. If you pick the right one, marriage is a joy.”
“Nicely done, dear,” Mom said as she placed mugs into the dishwasher.
Dad gave us a wink, then left for work. Jamie and Brady needed to run to the corner store for something, and so it was me wiping the kitchen table and Jared sneaking off to call the florist as Trent was “Utterly too inundated to possibly call about the flowers!”
“Don’t brush the crumbs on the floor, Tennant,” Mom called from across the room. How did she know?
“The Roomba will get them,” I tossed out. She gasped, then started crying. My brain slewed off the rails a bit. Had the Roomba died? Why would that upset her so? “Mom?” I chucked the dishrag into the sink and hurried over to her. “What’s wrong? I promise I won’t wipe the crumbs to the floor anymore.”
“Oh, baby.” She coughed, reaching up to take my face in her tiny hands. “It’s not the crumbs; it’s… oh, that damn lion.”
“You don’t like the tat?”
“Tennant, I love that it covers up the scar. I know how much you hated it. It’s just that when I look at that lion, I see you lying on the ice… all that blood…”
“Ah Mom, shhhhh.” I held her closer. “Don’t think about that now. I’m here, I’m fine, and you’re going to get your first grandson soon in Ryker.”
She coughed and snorted into my chest. “We nearly lost you.”
“It wasn’t that close,” I whispered, trying to reassure her.
“You are a terrible liar, Tennant. You always have been, but thank you.” She pulled back, patted my cheeks, and wiggled free so she could turn on the tap and splash some cold water on her face. I yanked some paper towels off the holder and handed them to her. “I’m sorry. I’m just an old silly goose. Weddings do this to me.”
“Yeah, I know.” I chuckled at the memory of how emotional she had been at her other sons’ weddings.
“Yours is more special, though. It has… it has more meaning because you had to fight hard to have it. You’ve had to battle so ferociously for the right to wed the person they love. Brady, Jamie, and your dad and I just took that right for granted.”
“I love that you’re like the biggest PFLAG mom in the neighborhood,” I teased.
She chuckled into her paper towel wad. “Neighborhood, hell! In the whole damn county!”
“Love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too, Tennant. Gosh, I’m such a mess.” She dabbed at her eyes. Jared walked into the room, phone to his ear, eyes widening in worry. “Wedding tears,” Mom quickly explained, and his brows eased downward. “So do you want meatloaf or rigatoni for dinner?”
We never got to reply to that question, because at that moment my brothers returned and kidnapped us. With our bags in hand, Brady and Jamie muscled Jared and me out of my parents’ house and into a nondescript rental car.
“If you’re taking me out to kill me because I of that comment about being more menacing on the breakaway…”
Brady laughed as palm trees passed by. We pulled into Myrtle Beach International. Jared and I exchanged worried looks.
“Uhm,” Jared said but was then hustled along into the airport. Within five minutes, we were being pushed outside again, the sun baking the top of my head as Jamie shoved me toward a streamlined personal jet.
“What the fuck is going on?” I shouted at my middle brother.
He just herded me forward. Brady was in charge of getting Jared onto the jet, and since they were already inside, I had no option but to climb into all that luxury. A dozen white seats and four lovely flight attendants awaited us.
“Welcome aboard Lockhart Avionics newest personal jet, the Lockhart Legion CX 400. Please sit down and buckle your seat belts. We’re cleared for immediate departure,” a slim, blonde, fashion model of a woman said, waving at the plush leather seats as if she were Vanna White motioning at a vowel.
“Uhm, departure for where?” Jared asked as he dropped into a seat.
“Nowhere you need to worry about,” Brady said and shoved our bags into the hands of a flight attendant. “Just have a drink, enjoy the flight, and stop being so uptight.”
“Can you just tell me one thing?” I asked while I buckled my belt. No sooner had the seat belt light turned on than the jet began to roll to the runway. My personal flight attendant, a beautiful woman with red hair and a Rubenesque figure nodded while handing me a pillow. “You said Lockhart Avionics. As in Adler Lockhart?”
“Yes, Mister Adler has personally arranged everything,” she replied, her accent soft and British. “Just relax, and as soon as we’re at cruising altitude, we’ll serve drinks and lunch.”
Uh-huh. “Just relax” she said. Jared and I had just been hijacked and bullied into a plane headed God knows where, and Adler Lockhart was behind it all. Right. Relax. Sure.
Not.
Jared
“Charleston?” I said as soon as it became obvious where we were going, not quite putting Charleston up there with Vegas as the bachelor party hell that I’d imagined.
Was that a good thing? Wasn’t Charleston genteel, with southern manners and beaches, and quite dignified in an old-fashioned South Carolina kind of way? Did that mean our bachelor party was going to be a tasteful, dignified affair?
Remember, it’s Adler organizing this.
“I’ve never been to Charleston,” Ten mused and stared out of the window.
I couldn’t get my head around that, given it was no more than two hours from Myrtle Beach, home of the Rowe dynasty.
“Yes, you have,” Brady said and smirked as he exchanged glances with Jamie. “You were two, and I specifically remember you sitting on the ground wailing because candy floss does not go well when it comes back up.”
“Oh god, yeah,” Jamie piped up, “he got sick at the fair.”
“All kids can get sick at the fair,” I defended, but Ten shook his head, warning me to stay quiet. Sometimes with the brothers, it was best to stay out of things.
“He was sick because I hung him upside down,” Brady smirked again as if that was something to be proud of. “Little shit had stolen my candy. Dad pulled me to one side and explained how holding my little brother upside down to get the missing candy out was not a good thing. Then I had to stay with Ten the rest of the visit.” He sighed. “That was a good day.” He looked out the window, and the teasing smirk became more of a fond smile as he glanced back at Ten. “You forgave me so quickly. You didn’t care. You just followed me around.”
There was a moment’s silence as we all took in the fact that Brady had said something thoughtful, bordering on nice. Then Jamie made gagging noises and pretended to faint, Ten snorted a laugh, and Brady hit Jamie upside the head.
Normal Rowe-service was resumed.
We landed at a private airfield, a largely empty space with hangars, and there was a limousine waiting for the group, which whisked us away to the Ellis Oaks Subdivision of James Island, or at least that is what the driver called it as he slowed down and pulled into a gated residence, pausing to type in a code before parking in a drive outside a huge contemporary house, which sprawled this way and that, screened by bushes that hid us from the road.
“Wow,” Jamie murmured. None of us here were short of money, but this place was something special. Not shiny steel or blocks of brick, it was a gorgeous wood-clad building.
“Surprise!” Adler shouted from the door. Just behind him, Layton was grinning, standing next to Stan, who for some inexplicable reason was only wrapped in a towel, and Erik who was on the phone facing away from us.
“Syurpriz! Syurpriz!” Stan shouted and threw his hands in the air, his towel slipping. At the last minute, he seemed to realize, but that didn’t stop him from hugging me tight when we moved into the blessedly cool house.
Jamie backed away. “If you’re thinking I’m hugging a naked Russian goalie—” He didn’t get a chance to finish as Stan hugged him anyway. Erik finished his call, and something passed between him and Stan, and I guessed it had something to do with the children. Stan picked Ten up and whirled him around, lifting him right off his feet. How that towel stayed in place, I don’t know.
“It’s one of our smallest homes, not the biggest place for twenty guys. Some of you will have to share,” Adler said and laced his hands together, agitated. “But it was the only vacant Lockhart property that—”
Layton moved right in front of him and clapped him on the shoulders. “Ads.”
Adler went from troubled to calm in an instant. “My bad,” he said. Then he grabbed Ten’s hand, which was not something he would do on the ice. It seemed that because it was our bachelor weekend, it meant all bets were off. He dragged Ten down a corridor, and I followed, trying to listen as he explained the house. I only caught a few words, and Adler didn’t have to explain what was here. I could see it. The kitchen was stunning, the furniture expensive-looking, soft furnishing muted and tasteful; it was a show home. No, not a home. A show house. I knew that the Lockhart family had money, but I had to wonder if Adler had ever had a home until he met Layton.
Great, now I’m getting way too deep for someone on their bachelor weekend.
We ended up in a cavernous room with doors that opened to a landscaped garden, complete with pool and patio with lounge chairs and a grill. “This is your room,” Adler announced and waved at the room. “There’s a bathroom, and it’s got this really cool bath, and you need to try that. It’s big enough for two, and I put condoms and lube in the cabinet because Layton and I have—”
“Ads!” Layton interrupted.
“My bad,” Ads said brightly, not at all disturbed that Layton had stopped him in mid-flow. I guess he was used to it—a lot of people stopped Adler in mid-flow.
I had to step to one side as Stan unceremoniously dumped Ten onto the enormous bed, and then it was Layton who ushered everyone to the door. He almost had it shut, but Adler kept on talking.
“We’ll give you fifteen, guys, Connor texted to say he’s almost here. So if there’s anything you need, you only have to—”
Layton shut the door. I don’t think it was to keep us in but to stop Adler’s verbal diarrhea.
I turned to check on Ten, not entirely happy with the way Stan had dropped him, but he didn’t look hurt. In fact he was grinning up at me, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to kiss him. I clambered onto the bed and bracketed him with my arms, then kissed him, allowing myself to be tugged down until I was sprawled over him.
“How many of the team do you think will be coming?” he asked between kisses.
I shook my head. “This is Adler we’re talking about. It could be the entire NHL for all we know.”
“Do you think he arranged for Ryker to be here?”
“He wouldn’t be able to make it. I know he’s volunteering with Jacob. It’s the farm’s busiest time, and he wanted to help and there’s no way he would’ve known about a surprise party. It’s okay.” I was only half lying when I said it was okay. I wish he was here but I understood our lives had different directions to take.
Ten kissed me and rolled us so he was on top, propping himself up to stare down at me.
“He’ll be at the wedding,” he reassured with another kiss.
“Put your pants on. I’m coming in!” someone called, and the door banged open, revealing Connor. “Hey!” Our captain wore the brightest pink T-shirt I’d ever seen, and right behind him was Adler, followed by other new arrivals Max, Ben, Bryan, and Gatlin. With what seemed like the entire team in our room and Ten and I sitting on the bed, Ads took charge again.
“We have an itinerary,” he began and counted off each item on his fingers. “Golf, food, beach, followed by drinking with food, a bar, dancing in a club, maybe a strip bar, then back here swimming, with a catering company bringing in food.”
I groaned internally at a lot of that, most of the food references and the whole strip club thing. However, none of it fazed the team, all of them leaving to collect what they were going to wear, which didn’t sound ominous at all. Then it was just us and Adler, with a long-suffering Layton hovering by his side.
“These are for you,” Adler announced and tossed a plastic bag to me. “Put them on, ten minutes, and the cars are waiting.”
Finally alone, I unpacked the T-shirts Adler had thrown at us, and held one up. An eye-watering mix of cerise and purple, with accents of lime, the rainbow and unicorn were luminous, and one said Groom 1, the other Groom 2, emblazoned in neon orange across the center.
“I’m blind!” Ten covered his eyes in faux shock, then peered out from behind his hand. “He seriously wants us to wear those?”
I tossed him one. “Suck it up, Groom 2.”
“Hang on a minute. Why am I Groom 2? Is it because you’re so old now?” Ten tried for innocent but couldn’t hold it together.
“Asshole,” I muttered as I smoothed down my Groom 1 shirt. “Says the man who’s heading for thirty.”
“Yeah, in, like a million years.”
He stripped off his classy blue shirt and pulled on the monstrosity that was the official bachelor shirt, turning this way and that in front of the mirror and wincing.
I came up behind him, put my arms around his waist, and held on. “I’ve never seen you look so sexy,” I teased.
But I wasn’t lying. His hair was silky, falling in soft layers over his eyebrows, his lips plump from kissing, and I was so damn happy, so at peace.
“I can’t put into words how much I love you,” I said.
He caught my eye in the mirror and turned in my hold, lacing his hands behind my head. “Same here.”
“I hope we fix that before we exchange vows,” I teased.
He kissed me then. “All we need is kisses.”
In shorts and the tees, we headed for the front door, and that was when it hit us in all its Technicolor glory. Stan was in scarlet, standing to the left, Erik in orange, and all the way to Ben, who wore purple, the guys were a rainbow, and their T-shirts had the message Groom Squad written on them.
“You’re missing yellow,” I said because I didn’t know what else to say.
Then the guys moved apart, right between orange and green, and Ryker stepped forward. I reacted instantly, grabbing him and holding him close, pulling a confused Jacob into the same hug, then Ten, who wanted in on the action. This bachelor event hadn’t even started, but with Ryker here now, it was one of the best days ever.
We headed to the Ocean Golf Course on Kiawah Island, where it seemed Adler had booked a private afternoon for us, which was good because we were loud. Very loud. I swear golf was the funniest damn thing I’ve ever done, but most of that was because we were painfully bad.
“The hole is that way,” Erik explained patiently to Stan, whose concept of golf
seemed to be whacking the ball as if he was shooting a puck. Of course, this meant that there were divots in the grass, twenty-two lost balls at last count, and the rest of us bent over laughing so hard that Connor said he was going to be sick.
I thought that was more to do with the giant pizzas we’d all consumed in the limos on the way over.
“No much me laugh-ting,” Stan said, with concentration on his face, assumed the correct stance, and then at the last minute buried his club in the dirt, the ball rolling maybe an inch.
That was it, cue the entire group on the grass laughing so hard that a manager came over.
“Gentleman, I’d like to suggest you stop drinking.”
“Not drink much,” Stan boomed. Given he was chopping at the hedge with his golf club, I’m not sure the manager believed him.
“We’ve had a few complaints.”
I could see the headlines, Gay hockey superstar with gay fiancé and gay team having a gay time on a straight golf course and getting gay drunk. I think Layton could see the same thing and stepped in to calm the situation. None of us had actually drunk a thing. We were just happy; all of us, laughing, shoving, teasing, in the South Carolina sunshine.
Layton tried to smooth it over with an apology, box tickets the next time that the Railers played Carolina, and the promise of paying to have turf re-laid. The manager wasn’t impressed and folded his arms over his chest.
“I’m wondering if maybe you’d like to move this away from Ocean Course,” he said in a level tone.
By mutual decision, we left around the tenth hole of the eighteen because Layton was insistent we take the hint. Ten had won the golf. At least I think he had because we’d all lost count, and most of us agreed that as he was a hockey phenom, he had to be better than us all. With pride, I realized Ryker had apparently come in a close second. That’s my boy. I chose to ignore the fact that I’d been almost as shit as Stan had been. I used to play hockey. I was good at it. I’d never played golf in my entire life.
