Across the Pond

by R. J. Scott

  Tennant made a fancy-ass play that snuck one past Colorado, but that was it, and we skated off with a win, on the Railers home ice. It felt great. Coach C met all of us inside the away locker room with a smile, a pat on the back, and praise. All except me.

  “Garcia, is there something going on with you that I need to know about?” Coach asked as I neared, Ryker on my heels.

  “No, sir. The only thing going on with me is focusing on hockey.”

  He said nothing more, just motioned me along.

  “Jesucristo,” I mumbled under my breath, keeping my stupid self to my stupid self after the game. Vowing to get everything not hockey erased from my mind, I made plans to go to my room and watch game film on my tablet until I passed out. No one seemed willing to talk to me, not even Ryker, which said something because Ryker talked a lot and to everyone. The team was headed to the charter bus that would take us to the hotel, a long straggling pack of tired but happy—aside from me—men.

  “Hey, hey, Garcia!” Someone shouted as we walked across the empty parking lot, snow crystals swirling in the wind. I couldn’t get back to Arizona soon enough. This snow and cold shit sucked. “Ryker, hey, man!”

  Ry and I turned to find Adler Lockhart from the Railers jogging after us, thick furry coat hugging his big frame. He caught up with ease, then shook our hands. I’d had enough of him in the game, all over my ass, trying to smash me into the Plexiglas every chance he got, not to mention how much he worried at Ryker like a gnat in the summer. Still, he was a nice guy, and I knew he was friends with Henry, so that was a plus.

  “Good game. Next time we’ll kick your asses,” he said, then nudged us away from the bus. “I was wondering how Henry was doing. I’ve been sending flowers every day. Is he getting them? Does he like them? Does he need anything at all? Like a PS4 or a watch so he can keep track of his therapy time? They have great ones in the new Cartier collection. Oh! A horse. Does he need a horse? They say riding horses is great for building leg strength.”

  “I’m not sure they’d let him keep a horse at the rehab center he’s in,” Ryker pointed out, lifting his hand in a greeting to his stepfather and father as they had a short visit with Vlad.

  “Well, yeah, sure, not in the room obviously, but outside. I could get someone out there to build a stable…” I stared at Adler in confusion. Was he always this generous? “I know he likes old planes. Back when I was in the minors, his brother Dan used to show me all the models and stuff Henry would build. Kid loved tinkering with tiny little parts. Dan and I roomed together for two years. Then I was called up, and he wasn’t. We stayed in touch, though. Great family.”

  “Yeah, Henry’s a good guy,” I added weakly. “He’s doing okay, I guess, you know. It’s a pretty bad eye injury.”

  We all sighed.

  “Fucking Aarni. I should have made more of an effort to find a trash truck,” Adler snarled. He clapped Ryker, then me on the shoulder and ambled off, slipping his arm around a lean, dark-haired man in a sleek gray winter coat. I’d never seen so much gay in my life. Watching the Railers flow out of the arena, it hit me right in the face how open the team was and how little shit it seemed to cause out here in the real world.

  “I’ll see you later. I’m grabbing an hour with Dad and Ten. Then I’m heading to the hotel for some sleep.”

  I waved at Ryker, the cold making my nose run as I studied how two gay men acted in front of other people. Tennant and Jared didn’t make a fuss, but they did touch and smile at each other. Could I ever do that? Imagine how nice it would be to hold his hand and walk across a parking lot. Sebastian would look over at me lovingly just like Jared Madsen was doing now when he glanced at Tennant. I think I could do that…

  Hey, estúpido, did you forget who you were and where you come from? Holding hands with a man in public? Yeah, right. As if your family would ever stand having a queer in the house.

  Right. Yes, reality had just shown up. Shoulders up around my cold ears, I climbed into the bus and made my way to the back where the rookies sat. The ride to the hotel was short. I kept to myself, saying little to the other guys and hustling to my room, where I locked the door, changed out of my suit and tie, and stretched out on the bed to watch video after video of the Pittsburgh offense. My eyes began to burn after two hours, yet my mind would not shut down. I pulled on a pair of swim trunks I always brought along on road trips, as most hotels had pools, and slid my feet into my sneakers.

  Riding down to the lobby at two in the morning in swim trunks felt odd, but as soon as I walked into the pool room, the chlorine smelling warm, misty air surrounded me. The sconces on the walls had been dimmed, leaving the pool the major source of light. I hit a dead stop when I saw some other guy cranking out laps. I thought to turn around and maybe hit the treadmill until Ryker exploded out of the water, levering his upper half out of the pool, long curls plastered to his head.

  “Nice backstroke,” I said, my voice echoing in the vast room.

  He slipped back into the water; his forearms folded over the rounded edge of the in-ground pool.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked.

  I shook my head, then peeled my Raptors T-shirt off and tossed it beside my shoes. “You?”

  “Yeah, sleep is a no-go,” he replied on a hearty exhalation, sliding back into the pool to douse his head for a second. “I think I’m going to crack right in half.” He ran a hand over his face. “Being away from Jacob is killing me.”

  “Did your dad have any tips? Like to help get someone you care about out of your head?”

  I dipped a foot into the water, my attitude total nonchalance.

  “There’s really no way not to miss someone you love. Just have to work through it he said. Still, it’s easy for him and Ten. They’re together all the time. I haven’t seen Jacob since Christmas. It just… hurts.”

  I rubbed the top of his wet head. “Want to swim a few more laps?”

  “Totally.”

  We did forty more. When we finally pulled our wet asses out of the pool, we were both spent. We flopped down onto a pair of yellow loungers, our suits making puddles on the blue tiles. Snow blew against the tall thick windows overlooking a small courtyard buried in white powder. Ryker toweled off his hair, then his face. I opted to just air-dry.

  “What’s up with you?” His question was a casual one, and if I’d been a normal human being, I’d have replied more quickly and with something less fractured. I rolled my head to the left. Ryker had his wet towel dangling over his knee, his left leg bent, his hands resting on his belly.

  “Things are tense now, that’s all.”

  He moved to lie on his side, and our eyes met. “You know that you can talk to me, right? I mean, you and Henry are my closest friends in Arizona. Maybe if you told me what’s eating you, it would help you find some sleep at night.”

  I let my wet lashes rest on my cheeks until he sighed in defeat. “There’s a thing…” I couldn’t look at him, and so I squeezed my eyes shut. “I did a thing, to this… person.”

  “Alex, I cannot imagine you would do anything so bad to warrant the hell you’ve been putting yourself through the past month or so.”

  He had no clue. No clue at all. “I kissed this person. Without consent. Just grabbed and kissed.”

  “And did this person freak out?”

  “No, no, they were cool, but my head is all caught up in that kiss and why I did it. It’s eating me up inside, even though he said it was fine and he had been kissing me back.” The sound of the pool filter humming filled my ears. “I kissed a guy.”

  “I picked that up.” I cracked my eyes and watched random liquid shapes on the ceiling. “Is the fact that you kissed a dude freaking you out, or is it that you acted without consent?”

  “Both. No, that’s a lie.” The underwater lights threw some funky shapes around. “I like kissing men.” Eyes glued to the ceiling and a wiggling dolphin-shaped beam of light, I forced those two massive words out from under what weighed me down like an an
chor on my chest. “I’m gay.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  That was not the reaction I had expected. I mean… I should have, I guess, since Ryker was deeply in love with a man and had all that rainbow love at home. Still. I had thought he’d be more shocked or something.

  “You knew?” My voice was weak with relief. And that anchor resting on my chest? It felt a little lighter. Like, maybe the weight of a few hermit crabs scuttling off the damn thing, lighter.

  He chuckled lightly. “I had some major suspicions that you were at least bi because, dude, you are all about that Colorado Penn ass.”

  My reply took a moment. “Es en buen culo,” I replied, then giggled at my own stupid comeback. Yeah, it was a fine ass, but holy fuck I said that to another person. To another dude. To my friend. And he didn’t throw up or call the priest or even punch me in the face. Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I let them. I didn’t hurry to wipe them away, or pretend I was coughing. I let those tears flow, and they began to wash away some of the toxic machismo so many Latino males grow up with.

  His hand came to rest on my forearm. “You okay?”

  I blinked, coughed, and nodded, unable to look right at him yet. I dragged my fingertips under my eyes. “I’ve never told anyone that. Ever.”

  He gave my arm a squeeze. “Thanks for choosing me. I’m really humbled that you consider me worthy of that kind of knowledge. It’s safe with me, you know that, right?” I peeked at him and gave him a nod. He caught me. “So, was it Colorado who you kissed?”

  My eyes flared. “Dude! No way, man. He’s our goalie. The man has groupies. I’ve got no clue where his dick has been.”

  “I hear that.”

  I sat up, threw my feet to the wet tile, and looked right at him. “It was Sebastian Brown.”

  “I kind of thought he was the one. The way you two look at each other?” He swiveled two fingers between his eyes and mine. “It’s crazy hot.”

  Okay, that really did surprise me. “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah, every time he sees you, he gives you a long, slow eyefuck.”

  “He’s, like, ten years older than me. Is that sick?”

  Ryker gave me a duh look. “My dad married a guy ten years younger than he is. There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to an older man, especially if you’re… you know.”

  “A stupid fumbling virgin?”

  “Well, I was going to say kind of inexperienced, but okay…” I slapped my hands over my face. “It’s cool. Hey, it’s cool.” He moved to sit beside me. “It’s fine to be a virgin. Jacob was when we got together.”

  “Don’t lie to me, amigo,” I mumbled into my palms.

  “Totally the truth. And for what it’s worth, Sebastian seems like a legit guy. Why not see where it goes?” He stood. I uncovered my face. Ryker tossed a towel over my head. “Just be honest with him. Tell him where your head is at and that he’s keeping you up at night fantasizing about his hot but pale British bod.”

  I whipped the towel at his ass and was rewarded with a sharp crack that made him yelp like a scalded dog. He retaliated by trying to get me into a headlock. That got him a slap to the head. We tumbled back into the pool, tried to dunk each other for ten minutes, and then called a truce so we could go to bed.

  I had no trouble dropping off that night. Waking up was the rough part, but I slept on the plane back to Tucson after studying the defensive strategies of a team far higher in the table than we could hope to be. As soon as we landed, we were hustled into another charter bus that hauled us to the rink. There the families had gathered to welcome husbands and fathers home. Ryker gave me a long look. I tossed the keys to my Jeep to him. He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Go visit Henry, then go home,” I said as I tossed my bag into the backseat with his.

  “Hey, Alex, if what you’re planning goes south, you call me, right? I’m here in ten minutes.”

  “Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

  I ambled into the arena, rode the elevator up to the big money boxes, and took a short walk, rich carpet swallowing the sounds of my footsteps. At his door, I paused, inhaled, and then glanced around the doorframe. Sebastian was at his desk, earbuds in, tapping away at a laptop. Fuck, he looked good. Whiskery. Older. Kind. Sexy. Would he be gentle with me and my dumb, fluttering heart? There was only one way to find out, so I stepped fully into the doorway. His eyes widened when he spied me. Out came the earbuds.

  “Hey,” I said, a brilliant opening line if ever I heard one. “Can we do something with some food, maybe, and, like, stuff?”

  One side of his mouth lifted subtly. “Or as we Brits call it, a meal.”

  “Yeah, that. Can we do that? Eat and talk. I’d like to eat with you.”

  Eight

  Seb

  “We have a table booked in the name of Brown,” I informed the perky waiter with the wandering eyes and the badge that said he was called Nico. I wanted to tell Nico to stop staring at Alex because hey, he was with me. Or at least, he wasn’t with me in the sense that we knew each other biblically or even that this was a date, but he was my guest at this midsized steak place. The website claimed several awards and plenty of dark corners for couples to have complete privacy. I imagined that was what Alex wanted tonight, anonymity, food, and maybe a whole lot of talking.

  “This way,” Nico announced and sashayed his way through empty booths to the back of the room and into one of the designated quiet corners.

  The restaurant was quiet, but then it was only five p.m., and we had come straight from the rink. Yet another thing to give Alex his space. I gave Alex first choice of seating, and he slid right into the corner, meaning that when I sat down, our knees touched. He seemed to relax when the waiter left after announcing that it was Emma who would be serving us. That was a relief, there was something shifty about Nico and the way he stared at Alex, but unless we drove out into the desert far away from Raptors land, then there was always a chance Alex could be recognized.

  Not a big chance. After all, Alex was a new guy, and the new social media campaigns promoting him and the Raptors weren’t anything other than ideas in my journal. Still, I wasn’t going to reach over and hold hands with him or do anything wildly inappropriate until I knew for sure he wouldn’t be spotted. Right now, we were colleagues grabbing dinner, and that was all.

  “Hey, guys,” Emma announced her arrival by sliding menus in front of us and filling glasses with water. “My name is Emma, and I’ll be serving you tonight. The specials board is up there.” She pointed at a small chalkboard a small distance away. “Can I get you a drink?”

  I checked with Alex first. Did he drink? Or was he one of the team guys who drank protein shakes and nothing else? At least he was over twenty-one, although I knew he’d be asked for ID, and maybe that was enough for him to decide.

  “Just water,” he murmured.

  I frowned at the drinks menu. Beer over here was so different from the stuff back home. There was no sign of a real ale. It was all lite this and micro that, until finally I saw a selection of craft beers and ordered the one at the top of the list. “I’ll take a Yuengling Traditional.”

  “Certainly, and can I just say, I love your accent,” Emma announced, and I glanced up to see a very familiar expression. I could probably write a script for what happened next. “It’s so cute,” she added. Yep, that is where it starts.

  “Thank you,” I said, same as always, because I really didn’t know what else to say, and I’m too polite to be dismissive.

  “Where’re you from?” she asked as if the answer would mean anything to her. On my first visits to the US, I would talk about the small cottage in the Cotswolds and watch as people looked at me, and then asked me if it was close to London or Oxford. So I skipped that part now.

  “London,” I lied.

  “Oh cool,” she said, and I swear she bounced on her feet. “I love Four Weddings and a Funeral. Hugh Grant is sooo cool. And you know what? I had another guy in here yesterday from London. I th
ink his last name was Jones or something.” She stared at me expectantly, but I knew how to handle that as well. I was the same man who had once asked Jason if he knew Royce Parker, who lived in Pittsburgh, so yeah, it wasn’t like I hadn’t done the same thing. Only I guess, given that the UK was small, maybe it was more likely I would know some random stranger with the last name of Jones.

  “We’ll just need five to look at the menu.”

  She stepped back and smiled. “I’ll be back.”

  What I loved about America was the service, the way you didn’t have to ask for water, the attention paid to us, and I expected my drink would be here in less than a minute. Everyone was so efficient, and I loved that. It spoke to my own productivity. Without thinking, I reached for Alex’s hand, but he caught the movement and moved his hands out of reach.

  “I can’t,” he murmured, and I picked up the menu instead.

  “I’m sorry.” I had to apologize because he looked so torn.

  Alex checked the offered food, but it was a cursory check, and then he shut the menu. “I’m having the surf and turf,” he announced.

  “I’ll have the same.”

  “Can I just ask something?” Emma said as she pocketed her notepad with the order. She didn’t wait for permission, even though she’d kind of asked for it, and instead launched into a story about how her brother loved the Raptors. My chest tightened as Alex squirmed like a bug on a pin. I wasn’t even listening to Emma, but after a few terrifying moments, Alex relaxed a little, and I tuned in to her instead of thinking of ways to get out of here with minimal fuss.