Smokeshow: A Hockey Love story

by Miller, Raine

  “I don’t believe you will, Tyler Lockhardt. I’m an excellent judge of character, and I know a good heart when I feel one.” She taps fingers over her heart and gives me a nod.

  “You know, you and the hubs will have box seats for any game we’re ever playin’ at The Garden, right? I gotchu.”

  “And I’m sure this hockey fan will take you up on that offer whenever we can.” She claps her hands together silently. “Did I tell you my favorite saying, Tyler?”

  “You did not.”

  “Either you like hockey or you’re wrong.”

  So. Fucking. Lucky.

  Nineteen

  Zoya

  WACKO

  “How's your vegan pasta?” Georg asks Irina from across the table, before sticking his finger down his throat and making a gagging noise.

  My sister rolls her eyes and gives him the finger. “I don’t know. How’s the dead carcass of whatever animal gave its life without consent? Does it taste like murder?”

  “If it does,” Georg answers while shoving a big piece of steak into his mouth, “then my favorite meal is murder.”

  “You are a pig.” Irina glares at him. “Ti degeheneraat.”

  “Okay, okay.” Georg smirks at her in delight. “Simmer down, little sister.”

  Pam diffuses the situation. “Tell me about your thesis, Irina.”

  “Well, I am toying with the idea of investigating the issue of voluntary human trafficking.”

  “Just a light topic,” I mutter as Irina elbows me.

  “It’s just that I have been hearing about women and children in low-income communities who perform work or sex acts for money or drugs or shelter and they do it because they truly believe they’re helping their families. I want to investigate that, in order to better understand both poverty and the differences in how people define human trafficking.”

  “Wow,” Pam says, sounding impressed. “I just stretch people out after they get injured.”

  Irina lifts a shoulder and stabs at her pasta. “I plan to go for my PhD and then teach. I think it’s important to not be afraid of difficult topics in research.”

  “It sounds like a really interesting project,” Pam says. “I think you’ll learn a lot by looking at the family dynamics in the case studies. I’ll bet you could take the research in many different directions.”

  “Yes, right,” Irina says, nodding. “I’m actually having a hard time narrowing the focus right now. My advisor is stressing that I need to follow one string, not the whole web.”

  “Good advice,” Pam says.

  “Speaking of webs,” Georg says. “Pam, did you hear this insanity about Tyler Lockhardt? They gave him a four-game leave of absence. Said he had some family matters to attend to but didn’t tell us what. I didn’t realize he even had a family. I thought he might have been raised by wolves.”

  “I know,” Pam says. “I mean, I know he’s out on leave. Not the wolves part.”

  “He's working on getting emergency custody of his little brother and sister,” I say, finally happy to be able to contribute something to the conversation.”

  “His what?” Georg asks. “He has siblings?”

  “A four-year-old half-brother and a six-year-old half-sister,” I say, nodding. “His mother was arrested trying to hawk the tickets he got for them in Boston. She ended up getting many charges filed against her and the kids were going to have to go into protective services, so Tyler is getting emergency custody so he can bring them back to Vegas.”

  Irina’s eyes are wide. “You didn’t tell me any of that.”

  I shrug and give her a sideways glance before shoving a piece of chicken in my mouth. When I look up at Georg, he’s glaring at me.

  “How do you know all of this?” he asks.

  “Oh, Zoya and Tyler are best friends now, Georg,” Irina chirps. “Didn’t you know? They talk all the time.”

  I kick my sister under the table. Hard.

  “Sluha vokzal’naja,” my sister hisses.

  “Moodozvon,” I snarl in return.

  Pam’s brow furrows as she says, “I thought I was getting all the Russian swears down, but those two are new to me.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” Georg answers. “I will translate. Irina called Zoya a train station whore and Zoya responded with the not-nearly-as-creative wacko.”

  “Ahh,” Pam says. “Well then, I agree, Zoya, you need to up your insult game.”

  We all giggle at this, but Georg is soon right back on topic. “Seriously, you’re not supposed to be hanging with hockey players, Zoya. Strict orders from the motherland. Or fatherland, to be more accurate. Plus, you hate everything hockey. How could you possibly want to hang around someone who is as stereotypically hockey as Tyler Lockhardt?”

  “He needed a friend.”

  “But don’t you think they must be getting very close if he told her about his family and no one else?” Irina prods. “I am sure Papa would not approve.”

  “Well, I'm not the one fucking him,” I blurt before slapping my hand over my mouth, eyes wide.

  Pam swallows a grin by pretending to cough into her napkin. Irina returns the under-table kick.

  “I’m sorry?” Georg asks. “What did you just say?”

  I push my lips together and look down at the table.

  He points his index finger at me. “I’ll deal with Irina in a minute. What kind of language is that out of a young woman?”

  “Don’t be a hypocrite.” Pam snorts. “She’s an adult and she can use whatever language pleases her. And besides, it’s not like you or I don’t say the word fuck every seven seconds.”

  “Not the fucking point,” Georg argues.

  “Well, then, what is the point?” Pam asks, folding her arms over her chest. “Because it sounded like you were scolding a nineteen-year-old woman for saying a curse word so pervasive that it barely has meaning anymore.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Georg groans, throwing his head back. “Whatever. What. Ever. Fine, Zoya, say fuck all you want. But Irina, is this true? Are you sleeping with him? Because he is the worst kind of slut out there. He is not good for you. He doesn't care about women at all. He thinks they're just playthings. He drinks too much. Can’t keep his mouth shut. Can’t keep his temper in check. Papa will have an aneurysm if he finds out. He’ll probably ship you two right back to Russia.”

  “Georg Kolochev,” Irina snaps. “I am twenty-two and able to make my own decisions, especially when it comes to my own body and my own sex life. And if you must know, I haven’t really talked to him since the night I got my tattoo.”

  I snicker beside her, because...

  “What?!” Georg explodes. “Your what? I think I heard you say tattoo, but that can’t really be what you said.”

  “Yes, I got a tattoo. I like tattoos. And it’s beautiful and meaningful and I will probably get more at some point. Chill out. It’s my body.”

  I think Georg’s teeth might crack; he’s gritting them so hard.

  “What the hell is happening here?” Georg is really laying the guilt on thick.

  “Calm down please,” Pam says softly, leaning toward him, her fingers brushing at the back of his neck. “You’re going to make a scene.”

  Georg snorts and shakes his head.

  “They’re adults, Georg. They can make their own decisions and choices. They came here to have some freedom. Plus, maybe it’s good for someone like Tyler to have girls like these as friends. They’re smart and capable and they don’t take any bullshit. He can learn how to be friends with a woman, how to respect a woman and value her opinion.”

  “I was given an explicit task—”

  “I know, by your father,” Pam states. “But you weren’t so different from Tyler not too long ago yourself, and yet I still love you. And you love me. We’re both proof that people can grow and change. And Zoya's already said she doesn’t want to date a hockey player anyway, so what’s the harm in them having a friendship?”

  “Thanks,” I say to Pam
and she winks back at me.

  “But why are you friends with him?” Georg whines. “He’s such an asshole.”

  I laugh a little. “I thought so too, at first. Then I realized he's just acting out to forget... Tyler has had a much harder life than he has shared, and he needed someone to talk to about that.”

  “Why can’t he just go see a shrink like a normal person?”

  “I don't think he realized he needed to talk about it until…well, until he started talking about it. But he needs it, he really does, and I don't want to be another person who lets him down. I will not stop being his friend.”

  Georg stares a hole in me until finally sighing deeply. “Fine. Okay. I trust you to not let things go too far with him. I'm going to trust you, Zoya.”

  “Just her?” Irina asks.

  “You don’t want to be his friend,” Georg says pointedly.

  “So?”

  “So, he probably has like forty diseases.”

  “To be fair, how many women did you sleep with before you settled down with Pam?” Irina asks. “Do you have forty diseases?”

  “He does not,” Pam says. “We both got tested before we got married.”

  “I'm just saying that Georg’s picture was all over the Internet for a long time, with many different women,” Irina explains. “It’s one of the reasons our father didn’t let us come to America.”

  “That's true, Georg,” I add.

  Georg raises his hands. “I don’t know. People change. I changed. I fell in love. I stopped drinking. It was a life choice and I’m glad I made it.”

  I say, “So if you can change—”

  “Then Tyler can, too,” Irina finishes.

  “And you think that you’re going to be the one to settle him down, Irina?” Georg asks. “You are his Pam?”

  Irina lets out a howl of laughter. “Hell no, I just want to have sex with him.”

  My sister's words hit me right in the heart. It feels like…jealousy. And even though I know I shouldn't be jealous of anyone who wants to have sex with Tyler, I am. I totally am.

  “No,” Georg says, shaking his head furiously. “No way.”

  “You’re acting like a dad,” Irina says.

  Georg grits his teeth again. “Fine. I don’t want to be anybody’s damn dad. Whatever. Do what you want. Go fuck manwhore hockey players if you want to. You’re right, it’s your body. It’s your life. But I’m telling our father that I told you all the reasons this would be a bad idea. I’m not taking the blame for this disaster.”

  “Okaaay,” Irina says, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for the blessing to go out and get laid, then. Zasranec.”

  Georg gets out his wallet to pay the bill, muttering something about assholes.

  We leave, Pam inviting us back to their apartment to play board games. I think it's her attempt at an olive branch. She wants to make peace between us and Georg, which is really sweet. I also appreciate how she stood up for us at the table. Pam is good—as golden to us as she is to Georg. Thankfully, my brother did see Pam for the amazing woman she is. I’m not sure if it was in the process of scooping her up that he became a better man, or if he was simply…ready. Ready to be the changed man. The family man. Like Papa.

  I still have no clue what will happen with Tyler with his new charges. Will it change his ways? He’s never had a family worth emulating before, unlike Georg. Does it matter, Zoya? You’ll never be his Pam… just his friend. There will probably still be many women like Irina in his life. And I have to be happy with that, as it was the wisest thing for me. For my heart.

  * * *

  “Bananas!” I yell, holding up my hands.

  “Damn it!” Irina yells, placing her last tiles on Bananagrams just a moment after I yell out the winning word. “Word nerd strikes again.”

  “You’re so good at this game,” Pam says. “Extra points since English isn’t your first language.”

  “This game actually helped me with my English,” I say. “My tutor in Russia always used it because it required me to think on my feet.”

  “She mops the floor with us every time we play,” Georg says, looking sheepishly at his paltry crossword, many of his tiles still not placed in words.

  “I have always been good at word-related things,” I say. “Math and statistics, though? Ugh.”

  “Still having trouble with that class?” Irina asks. “Papa said you could get a tutor.”

  “I was trying to figure it out on my own, but the other night, Tyler helped me over the phone. I think he will keep helping me.”

  Georg, who has wandered off to sit on the couch, turns around to look at us. “Just how close are the two of you, anyway?”

  “Go back to your sports highlights, brother,” I tell him, annoyed.

  Irina giggles. “I love that this is bothering you so much, Georg.”

  “Why?” His tone is funny, whiny, perplexed.

  “Because you spent a long time not worrying about anyone or having any responsibility and now, you’re getting hit hard by it. Payback is a cruel bitch, true?” Irina has always been one to taunt. It was actually very quiet for me when she was living away at university and I was the only one at home. She hasn’t changed, and I cannot say I missed her sharp tongue.

  I think they’re finding it amusing to see you adulting, honey,” Pam adds.

  “Adulting is hard,” Georg whines, flopping back on the couch. “I feel really uncomfortable about this… this—”

  “Friendship,” I say. “It is a friendship, dodogoy brat.”

  “Ugh,” he grunts. “Whatever. I don’t have to like it, dear sister.”

  I make a face at him. “He's a good guy underneath. Cocky on the outside, softer on the inside. He needs a friend and I want to be there for him.”

  Georg just sighs and waves me off, done with the serious-ish conversations for the night. He turns on ESPN and ignores us while we set up for another round of the game. As I flip my tiles, I look over at Pam and find myself blushing under the knowing weight of her stare.

  My sister-in-law knows there is a lot more to this story.

  I even think she knows there are things I'm not saying…about Tyler Lockhardt.

  Twenty

  Tyler

  HOW’S IT POSSIBLE?

  Ten days later.

  There’s been court dates and interviews. And because Haley and Logan came to me literally with the clothes on their backs and nothing more, shopping trips to places like Target and Kohl’s. Basically, it’s been a crash course in kidlet for the three of us this past week. They don’t have experience or knowledge in what kids need any more than I do. They’ve been living in conditions far worse than anything I ever experienced as a kid.

  Back to the guilt tripping later.

  Winter has been a godsend. She set me up with an intern from children’s services who helped me shop online for the myriad of things the kids will possibly need for school and normal daily life. I literally had no clue what that entailed. Pretty much everything is the short answer. Oh, stuff like age-appropriate clothing that fits and isn’t dirty or ripped. Ditto for shoes, pajamas, coats, backpacks, kid toothbrushes, plus a few items they chose for themselves like blankets and toys and books. Thank you, Amazon Prime.

  I was close to tears watching Haley choose a quilt set with unicorns for herself and dinosaurs for Logan, especially when she asked if she would really get her own bed and not have to share with her brother? And why? Because she’d have more room? Because she was too big to share a bed with her brother? No. Nothing so normal as any of those reasons. It was because her sheets were often wet when she’d forgotten to change Logan’s diaper before bedtime when Ma wasn’t there. Apparently, he wasn’t potty trained overnight. And sometimes, she hadn’t done laundry, so there were no sheets to replace the soiled ones.

  Fuckin’ six-years-old and changin’ her little brother’s diaper… because her mom was out who knows fucking where. I’d never known such grief. Anger.

  My cleani
ng lady, Marlena, has been unpacking everything Amazon has shipped, getting their room set up. I had Vik grab some guys to set up the beds. I also gave Marlena a raise and explained she'll be earning every cent of it. She’s been an angel to do this for me, and I am just so appreciative of the help I’ve been given so far, not just from her, but a lot of people.

  That said, it’s still been a rough week for them. Haley and Logan have had to go see physicians and counselors and go to court to talk to the judge. It’s been a whole clusterfuck simply tryin’ to get temporary custody of my brother and sister. And I’m no dad, you know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

  The judge sat up on his high horse while I was in there for the hearing. He was like, “Son, I see that you’re a professional athlete. It's dubious you can play professional hockey and take care of two small children.”

  Winter’s attorney husband, James Blakney, walked me through everything with the judge in Boston. Cool dude who loves hockey and his wife. I’m keeping my promise to treat them to seats whenever the Crush comes to Beantown. The very least I can do after all they’ve done to help me.

  James had the forethought to get letters from Coach Brown, Crush owner Max Terry, and team captain, Evan Kazmeirowicz, all of them gushing about how committed I am to the team, how hardworking and responsible. It’s all bullshit, I think, but I appreciate that they’d fib to make me look good. What I really think sold the whole thing is the many comments they made about how the whole organization would be committed to giving me as much support as needed to assure the kids would be safe and secure.

  That part choked me up, I gotta admit.

  A little tug at my sleeve and I’m looking down at a tiny, wide-eyed face. Logan’s face. Honestly, he looks a little like I did as a kid, with blond hair and an impish grin. Haley’s got darker hair, curly. She’s more serious, I’ve realized. The caretaker, I think. She’s protective of her little brother. I’ve spent countless hours feeling the shame of guilt that I haven’t been there for them as I should've been. But that’s for a shrink appointment on another day.