by Beth Ehemann
“Speaking of whores, I was down in your basement last week, Viper…” Brody leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You have whores in your basement?” Louie’s eyes were wide, and I swear I saw drool drip from the corner of his mouth.
I reached out and smacked him in the back of the head. “No, you idiot.”
“You’re a candy whore. I knew you had a stockpile, but my God. There must be twenty cases of Lemonheads along the wall.” Brody shook his head slowly in amazement.
Turning in my lap slightly, Darla rested her arm around my shoulder. “Candy? In your basement? Why?”
“You don’t know?” Louie looked incredulously at her.
Darla shook her head.
“Before every game,” he continued, “Viper gives Big Mike a box of Lemonheads.”
“You do?” she squeaked at me, clearly surprised.
“Yep. Every single game. Home or away.” I reached my hand across the table and fist-bumped Mike.
“They’ve been doing it for a while now,” Michelle added with a smile as she eye-fucked Mike. “I’m constantly throwing away empty boxes I find tucked in all corners of his car and office.”
“I didn’t know that,” Darla said softly as she rubbed my temple with the back of her fingers.
“Oh, stop.” I rolled my eyes as I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “It’s not because I was worried he wanted a snack; it’s purely superstition. I don’t know why, but I gave him a box one game and we all played really well that night. Won a game we probably shouldn’t have won. Ever since then, it’s just been our thing.” I shrugged.
“Awww,” Kacie, Darla, and Michelle cooed together.
“Aren’t they sweet?” Andy mocked as he clapped his hands together near his face and batted his eyelashes dramatically.
“We are fucking sweet,” I bellowed arrogantly. “Our bromance is amazing. We’re like a modern-day Romeo and Romeo.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Big Mike held his hands up defensively and laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, Finkle.”
“This is nothing new, though, this superstition thing with Viper,” Brody said as he stood up and walked over to the fridge. “He’s always been over-the-top… about more than just candy.”
“What else?” Kacie asked.
“When he gets dressed before every game, he puts all his left pads on before his right ones.” Louie laughed.
“Not only that,” Mike jumped in at the end of Louie’s sentence. “As long as I’ve played with him, he listens to the same song about a hundred times before every game. In the car on the way to the arena, while he’s getting dressed, on his way out to the bench.”
Darla crinkled her nose. “The same song? Over and over?”
“Fuck yeah.” I nodded. “‘Thunderstruck’ by AC/DC. That song makes me want to run through a brick wall.”
“I’ll give him that. It is a badass song.” Brody sat back at the table and set a bottle of Gatorade in front of him. “He also buys his own tape for his stick and will only use bright yellow.”
“Maybe you should stop paying so much attention to my stick, Murphy,” I teased, gently nudging Darla off my lap. I got up from the table and walked over to the fridge to grab another beer. “Anyone else want one?”
“Dude, you keep drinking beer like that in the off-season and you’re not gonna be much use on the ice when it counts.” Mike stood up and stretched his arms above his head.
“Psh.” I waved him off. “Regardless of what, or how much, I drink, I could still skate circles around you.”
“Oh, really?” He looked straight at me with his eyebrows raised. Suddenly I had his attention. “Wanna make it interesting?” he challenged with a smirk.
“Uh-oh.” Andy sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “I hate when you idiots say things like that. It usually means I’m going to have a long day in the near future.”
Ignoring Andy, I stared straight at Mike. “Yeah, let’s make it interesting. Practice, Friday. You and me. One on one against Brody. Loser has to wear a pink tutu to workouts for an entire week.”
Big Mike’s eyes lit up as he walked across the kitchen holding his hand out for me to shake. “You’re on.”
“WELL AREN’T YOU a fine-looking piece of ass!” I hollered as I got out of my car and walked around it.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Gam winked at me as she carefully walked down the front steps of her house.
I hurried over and took her hand, leading her to my car. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better than you look.” She laughed as she climbed into my car.
“You tell me I look like shit every time you see me. It’s starting to give me a complex,” I joked as I closed the door and jogged around to my side.
“Oh, bull,” she scoffed. “You know you’re hot shit, and you don’t need my confirmation for that.”
“I was taught never to argue with my elders, so I’ll agree with you.” I wiggled my eyebrows up and down at her as she reached over and smacked my arm. “So, where we headed?”
She shrugged. “This was your idea. You choose.”
“Well, are you in the mood for breakfast or lunch?”
“I don’t care where we go or what we eat. Just make sure the place serves alcohol already.” She winked again as I pulled out of her driveway.
We’d only been driving a couple of minutes when I pulled into a nice restaurant just outside of downtown called The Raspberry Cafe.
“Here?” she exclaimed.
I parked my car and turned toward her, confused by her response. “Yeah, why?”
She glanced down at her turquoise sweat suit and back up at me with her brows pulled in tight. “I’m a little underdressed for this place. Come to think of it, so are you.”
“Who cares?” I waved her off. “Live a little. Besides, I’ve been here before—in sweats. They don’t care. They know me here.”
She sighed and picked her purse up off the floor of the car. “Fine, but you’re paying.”
I laughed and went around to her side of the car. She hooked her arm through mine as we slowly made our way into the restaurant. The smell of cinnamon smacked me in the face as I opened the big wooden doors and stepped back to let her go in ahead of me. The Raspberry Cafe was a contemporary yet rustic restaurant with real wooden beams on the ceiling and walls and stone accents on either side. What I liked best about the place were the tall wooden booths. They offered privacy, which is something I didn’t always get when I was out in public. It wasn’t like I couldn’t walk through the grocery store without being attacked, but I had enough fans to keep things interesting.
“Hi. Welcome to The Raspberry Cafe,” a busty, young olive-skinned girl greeted us as we walked in. “Two today?”
“That’s right.” I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was legal or not. Jailbait was a big fat no for me. Frankly, if she couldn’t legally take a drink of alcohol, I had no desire to fuck her. Another rule of mine.
She grabbed two menus off the hostess stand and led us to a table in the back corner. I was thankful for the added privacy even though the restaurant wasn’t busy.
“Thanks, dear.” Gam smiled at her as she slid into the booth.
Once the hostess set the menus down and walked away, I slid in across from Gam.
“She was cute.” She nodded in the direction the hostess had just walked.
“Sure.” I shrugged.
“Think you’d date her?”
“I don’t date anyone.”
“Why not?”
I sighed, uncomfortable with the thought of discussing my love life with my grandmother. “I don’t know. I don’t really have time.”
She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s crap, Lawrence, and you know it. You have more free time than you let on. You’re off today. You could be taking a beautiful woman to brunch.”
“I am having lunch with a beautiful woman.” I reached over and k
issed the top of her hand.
“Oh…” She grinned shyly. “You little shit. You’re good. Got that charm from your papa.”
“From what I hear he was quite the man. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I’d never met my grandfather. He was the love of Gam’s life, but he’d died before I was born. I could tell he was a great man just based on the way her eyes lit up when she talked about him. As a kid, instead of reading to me, she would tell me stories about their life before he died. From what I knew, he was a talented artist, a badass pilot, and a practical joker.
“He was quite the man,” she responded, her eyes red-rimmed, “and your father was too.”
Check, please.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” she scolded.
Oops.
“Sorry,” I apologized coldly.
“Lawrence, your parents love you very much.”
“That’s great.” I picked up my menu. “What are you getting?”
Her hand came over the top of my menu and smacked it down hard onto the table. “Right now? The brush-off from my grandson.”
I sat back against the booth and sighed as I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re not getting the brush-off, but my memories of them are very different from yours. Can we just leave it at that, please?”
“No.”
“You’re a stubborn old lady, you know that?”
“Yes.” She smiled proudly.
“Hi there. Sorry about the wait.” A young waiter set down two glasses of water, spilling drops all over the table as his hands shook.
“You okay, boss?” I asked.
“Yeah. I just… I’m new and you’re… you, and I’m a little nervous.” He grabbed a napkin off of the table next to ours and wiped up the water as fast as he could.
“No problem.” I laughed. “You a hockey fan?”
“Uh, yes. Yes, sir,” he stammered.
“Well, I’m a fan of anyone who’s going to bring me food, so let’s take a picture together, I’ll sign whatever you want me to, and we’ll call it even, okay?”
His goofy, crooked smile let me know he liked my idea. After a few minutes of selfie taking and autograph signing, he finally seemed to calm down enough to take our drink and food order.
“That was sweet of you,” Gam whispered once he was out of earshot. She took a sip of her water, trying to hide her proud smile behind her glass.
“Stop it,” I grumbled.
“Stop what?”
“Smiling.”
“I will not,” she said stubbornly, lifting her chin in the air. “I’m having a nice brunch with my grandson, who happens to be a very sweet man.”
“I’m not sweet, Gam. I’m barely sour. In fact, most days I’m downright inedible altogether.”
“You may not think you’re sweet, but I do.” She nodded toward the door leading to the kitchen. “And so does that young man. He’s probably back there calling all of his friends to tell them how cool you are. You made his day.”
I stared at her with a deadpan expression on my face. “I just want pancakes.”
LATER THAT NIGHT, I was sitting at home playing Madden on my XBOX when my text alarm went off. It was from Darla.
D: Hey, you busy? Can I come over?
Hell yes. Bring a pizza.
“Hey!” Her huge smile was the first thing I saw when I opened the door a little while later.
“What’s up, baby?” I reached out and pulled her in for a hug.
“Careful.” She giggled, keeping the hand that held the pizza out straight. “You don’t want tomato sauce and cheese all over the floor of your foyer.”
I pulled back and took the pizza from her. “I’m so hungry I’d probably still lick it off the floor. Come on.” I took her hand and led her back to the kitchen.
We sat at the breakfast bar and stuffed our faces with pizza, barely even talking to each other, for the next half hour.
“Okay,” I sighed, wiping my hand on a napkin. “What’s going on?”
She froze, staring back at me with a bite of pizza still in her mouth. Covering her mouth with her napkin, she shook her head slightly. “What?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you’re different. Something’s up.”
“I’m not different.”
I read Darla like I read opponents on the ice. What came out of their mouths never mattered; that was just chatter. It was their body language that gave everything away. They would fake right and go left, but I was already on the left waiting for them. I knew what moves they were going to make before they did. It was the same with Darla. She was preoccupied, distant.
“You’ve been in my house for over half an hour, and not only have you been avoiding eye contact the whole time, you have yet to give me shit about… anything. Normally, you would’ve picked me apart for ten different things by now.”
She balled her napkin up and tossed it down on her plate, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I turned my stool to face her and pulled her legs so that she was facing me. “Bullshit. Don’t lie to me. We don’t do that.”
She looked sad.
I cupped her face and rubbed her cheek with the pad of my thumb.
“Don’t do that. Don’t be nice to me.” She took my hand off her face, kissing my palm before resting it in her lap. Not making eye contact, she continued, “I did come over here for a reason, but it wasn’t to torment you like normal.”
“The doctor, right?”
Her face swept up to mine, her shoulders finally relaxing for the first time since she’d walked through the door. “How did you know?”
I laughed. “I knew it the other night when you started talking about him.”
“I’m so sorry.” She looked down at her lap again.
“Hey,”—I tucked my finger under her chin and lifted her face—“why are you apologizing?”
“I don’t know. It’s just— We—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted. “Don’t say you’re sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. Darla, we’ve never put labels on whatever this has been between us, and that’s one of the reasons it’s worked so well for us. We live our lives and whatever happens, happens. Something is happening for you. Don’t you dare apologize for that.”
A pathetic, depressing smile spread across her lips. “You’ve just always been so good to me.”
“And that’s not going to change if you start seeing someone. You’ll always be one of my best friends.”
“It’s probably nothing anyway. We just went for coffee after work yesterday, but it was… different. Weird. Good weird.” She shook her head. “I’m probably overreacting. He’s going to decide he doesn’t like me, and here I am making an ass out of myself over nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, D. You’re making an ass out of yourself for a chance at everything, and it’s adorable. You need to go for it. You need to see what this is.” I squeezed her hand. “But just know, if he hurts you, I’ll break both his fucking legs.”
FRIDAY MORNING CAME, and in spite of my talk the night before with Darla, I was pumped. Beyond pumped. I took a picture of my breakfast—oatmeal, a banana, and a Red Bull—and sent it to Big Mike to taunt him, along with a text that said:
Ready to get your ass kicked?
A few minutes later, he responded.
M: Ready to wear a tutu?
I laughed as I tucked my phone into my backpack, strapped it to my motorcycle, and took off.
Arriving at the arena after a nice therapeutic ride on my bike with my iPod blaring AC/DC in my ears, I was more pumped than when I’d left the house.
I pulled into the parking lot and parked in my usual spot in the far corner of the fenced-in lot.
“Uh-oh.” Brody chuckled and slammed the door to his pickup truck as I walked toward the building. “He rode his motorcycle, Mike. That means he’s feeling extra cocky.”
Mike got out of the passenger side of Br
ody’s truck and lifted his bag out of the bed. “That’s okay. I had Wheaties this morning, so I am too.”
I ignored his Wheaties comment. “Awww, you two drove together today. Aren’t you cute?”
“My car is in the shop, but don’t worry—” He walked over to me and wrapped his giant gorilla arms around my shoulders, squeezing me so hard I thought my head was gonna pop off. “—you’re still my favorite.”
“Weirdos.” Brody shook his head as he walked past us.
“I told you our bromance was real,” I shouted after him. “Next up: Brokeback Mountain, the hockey edition.”
Once inside, it was time to get to work. We all knew that Coach Collins would kick our asses for dicking around on the ice if we didn’t do what we needed to do in the weight room first, so we all went in there to knock that out together.
“I fucking hate leg day,” I growled as I lifted 400 pounds off the squat rack and puffed my cheeks out, watching my form carefully in the mirror.
Down, up.
Down, up.
Down, up.
“I gotta go see the trainer about a weird pain I’m having in my calf,” Big Mike said as he bent over and rubbed the back of his leg. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
I put the squat bar back on the rack and glared at him in the mirror. “Go get that shit taken care of. No backing out.”
“Ha!” he bellowed loudly. “Back out? No way. I’ll see ya in a bit.”
I nodded in response and looked around for Brody, but he was off doing incline presses on his own, so I threw my earbuds in, turned on Korn, and focused on my reps for the next two hours.
“Holy shit. I can’t move.” I was lying on the floor in the corner of the weight room stretching when Brody appeared above me. He slowly sat down next to me, grunting and groaning the whole way down.
“I can move… my arms.” I sighed, suddenly regretting doing all those extra sets of calf raises. My entire lower half was tight and achy. What a long fucking afternoon it was going to be. “Big Mike back yet?”
