Chapter 3
3
COEUR
I’m gonna kill Batiste, Barrett thought silently as the turtle shell hit his character on the screen, drawing out an exaggerated high-pitched giggle from the child next to him. His teammate told him that Irene wasn’t good-looking in the slightest and that had been a flat-out lie.
The woman was exquisite, which prompted his other question about her ex-husband. The moment it was out of his mouth, he felt like a lecherous dog – and she was eyeing him like it. He was trying his best not to ogle her and being nice to her child, but obviously, she had a past. Heck, she had a seven-year-old kid. So his question had been founded in one way or another – where was the dad?
And felt a frantic tapping on his arm, causing him to look at Stephen.
This is so much fun!
The child’s eyes were dancing brightly, and his whole face was illuminated with the simplistic joy that came from being thrilled. He wondered for a brief moment if he would like to see a hockey game because he remembered his dad taking him when he was a boy and – oh geez! What am I thinking?
Lots of fun, Barret signed back to Stephen and then looked over his shoulder at Irene again, who was taking inventory of what he had in the refrigerator and freezer. She was tapping a pencil idly on her lower lip, standing there, deep in thought… only to feel the little slap of his game partner once again, drawing his attention away from her.
Do you want to play a different game?
Sure. Like what?
What do you have?
I don’t have many two-player games. How about Star Wars Legos?
Nah.
How about we are both Princess Peach? Can you imagine two pinkish girls flopping around on the screen? Which one is yours?
A loud peal of laughter escaped the boy as they immediately turned back to the screen, sitting back together on the couch and starting the game. He could feel Irene’s eyes on him and knew she was watching. He was trying to pay attention to what was happening on the screen and failing miserably as his pink car just careened off the rainbow road.
Hearing a knock, he jumped up and quickly signed.
Pizza – be right back.
Walking to the front door, he grabbed his wallet off the counter and opened the door – only to see the delivery guy’s mouth drop open in shock.
“Oh my gosh…”
“Hi,” Barrett said simply, handing over a few bills and reaching for the pizza. “Keep the change.”
“You’re the guy… the guy… you’re on the Coyotes!” and his voice ended with a screech of excitement that caused him to sigh as he reached for a Sharpie that was tied to a string – thumbtacked to the wall just out of sight, beside the door.
Was it pretty? No.
Was it handy? Absolutely… and he’d learned his lesson well a few years ago when someone followed him into his house when he went searching for a marker to autograph something.
“Can I have your…”
“Autograph?” Barrett interjected and smirked at the man’s starstruck gaze as he yanked out his cell phone case, which had the mascot emblazoned on it. “Should I sign the inside?”
“Yeaaah,” the young man whispered reverently.
“You like hockey?”
“Love it,” he breathed and seemed to draw himself out of his stupor. “Can I have a selfie?”
“Sure,” Barrett said politely. “Nothing in the background okay?”
“Nope. I swear. I’ll keep your wife and kid out of the picture.”
“She’s not…” and Barrett grew quiet, smiling quickly as the man suddenly swung an arm around his shoulders, practically hugging him, and shoved a cell phone in his face – posing for the selfie.
It was awkward in so many ways because he could feel both of their eyes on him, wondering what was going on, plus this delivery guy was practically all over him.
“Thanks for the pizza and for liking the team,” Barrett said carefully, trying not to be rude.
“Oh man, thank you for the selfie and the autograph,” the guy preened, still standing there, still watching him like he was some idol, not moving and definitely gawking.
“Thank you again,” Barrett tried once more, starting to close the door, and the guy seemed to snap out of it.
“Oh, sure! Sure, man! I appreciate you and can’t wait to see the game on Friday. Goooo Coyotes! And thanks, Mrs. Coeur for letting me interrupt. Bro, your dad is stellar on the ice and…”
Barrett shut the door.
Screw this , he thought, utterly mortified. The team’s owners could just get mad at him if this went all over social media. It was embarrassing because this wasn’t his family, but they were staring at him like he’d sprouted a set of horns in front of them.
Are you famous? Stephen signed, his eyes huge. Barrett immediately walked over and practically tossed the pizza on the kitchen island before turning to the child and speaking for Irene’s benefit.
“I’m not famous. I play hockey, and I’m just a normal guy who tries to live a very simple life. I like it when it’s quiet at home – and that guy was annoying.”
“We should go,” Irene immediately responded softly behind him, drawing his attention as he looked at her – not bothering to sign for Stephen’s benefit.
“You don’t bother me,” he said quietly. “Pizza?” At her silence, he sighed and then gestured to Stephen.
You want to eat pizza?
Yes!
As Stephen ran up to the counter, the video game forgotten, Barrett looked at Irene again pointedly and opened the lid. Without another word, he moved to get three paper plates and pulled out three slices, handing her the first one.
“Eat,” he said simply, before turning to give a slight to Stephen.
Come on, buddy. We’ll eat in the living room, in front of the couch.