Chapter 4 Chase
CHASE
The slam of a car door down the street makes me jump.
My boss invited me to have Thanksgiving dinner with him and his family.
I didn’t know how to say no without putting my job at risk – not that I think he’d fire me.
But it would definitely make things awkward since he overheard me telling Shannon, the receptionist, that I had no plans.
Thankfully, he lives in one of the neighborhoods that has actual houses with driveways, so I don’t have to worry about parking my car a mile away or feeding a meter.
My short stint in Pittsburgh before transferring here has made me so appreciative of cities with proper parking for homes.
My rental in Squirrel Hill was a nightmare for parking my car.
“Kinsey!”
Jacob Sanders is probably the friendliest boss on the planet.
I thought that maybe it was all an act in the office when I first arrived at the start of the summer, but after going to the hockey games with him and his family these last two months, I admit defeat.
The man could make Santa Claus look like a selfish grump.
“Hey Jake, Miranda,” I say as I kick off my shoes just inside the door. “Thanks for having me.”
Miranda mumbles something from the direction I assume is the kitchen while Jake leads me to a room dominated by a gigantic television.
The thing takes up almost the entire wall.
And currently playing is – what else – hockey.
Over the course of the Pickaxe games, he told me that he’s always been a super fan of hockey despite never being able to play himself.
As I look around the room, I believe it.
He’s got various jerseys hanging on the walls: some in shadow boxes, some hanging like they’re just waiting to be worn.
“Did I ever tell you that Miranda’s cousin is part of the ownership team for the Gladiators?” Jack takes a seat in a worn recliner and waves toward the adjacent couch for me to sit. “That’s how we got Roger the part time gig with the equipment manager of the Axes.”
Roger comes in carrying a couple cans of pop and a bottle of beer that he hands off to his father.
I’m glad the kid remembers that I don’t drink if I’m going to have to get behind the wheel.
I always feel weird turning people down.
That was always easier with Tim being the loud and sloppy drunk.
It was obvious that one of us needed to stay sober and that he wasn’t willing to do it.
“Anyways, I found out that the head honcho for the equipment manager team was going to be alone for the holidays this year, so I extended the invite. He should be here soon. He was getting an Uber because his car is having some issues or something.”
With the way he’s slightly slurring, it’s obvious that is not Jack’s first beer today. Considering it’s not even two in the afternoon, I’m both impressed and a little bit worried that he’s that committed to being drunk today.
“He’s not a big drinker,” Roger leans over to whisper to me when his dad gets up to answer the doorbell when it rings. “Every time he tries to help in the kitchen, Mom hands him a beer to keep him out of the way. It’s only on holidays that the meal is complex enough to get him wasted.”
The kids have told me some stories during the games so far this season about their father’s cooking skills, so I feel safe laughing at my boss here. There was something about chocolate macaroni and pots being thrown out at one point.
“Sam, this is the guy I was telling you about. Chase here knows almost as much about hockey as I do.”
Turning in my seat, I damn near swallow my tongue.
Sam, the equipment manager, is not what I was expecting.
I was picturing a cross between a hobo and Santa like the guy back home – rather, back where Tim destroyed everything.
I was not expecting a guy who could give a young Van Damme a run for his money.
Blond hair, blue eyes, and an ass that I could sink my teeth into.
He nods in my direction before heading toward the kitchen with Roger hot on his heels. I don’t think I breathed the entire time he was in the room.
“Pretty sure Roger has found his idol in that one,” Jake says and pulls the lever to raise the footrest once he resumes his Lay-Z-Boy throne.
My mouth is suddenly like the Sahara, so I take a generous swig of soda before remembering that carbonation and me haven’t been friends for a couple months now. Rubbing my chest, I try not to wince while I wait for the pain to subside. It’s hell getting old.
“I wish it was just about hockey and the job,” Jake continues in a more serious tone. “Roger told us over the summer that he’s … well, he’s not straight. I didn’t understand half of the words he used to explain it, but I definitely know he’s attracted to men.”
I do my best to keep a neutral expression on my face when Jake turns to look at me.
It’s obvious the alcohol is getting to him because this is so far from a normal conversation I should be having with my boss.
He knows I have an ex-husband, so it’s not like he thinks I’m part of the hetero-brigade.
I almost wonder if he’s talking to me about this because I am the only guy he knows that is not straight.
“And according to Miranda, that man is one she would have ridden like a rodeo bull back in the day. I can’t refute because I’m not able to see men like that, but I think my boy has a crush on his boss.”
I let out a noncommittal hum and take a smaller sip of my soda. Miranda’s not wrong. I’m not a cowboy, but Sam definitely makes me want to say “Yee-haw!”