Chapter One #2
“Mmm.” Robbie speared a brussels sprout and bit it in half.
He took his time chewing and swallowing.
Sawyer watched him the whole time. “Some reality show I’ve never heard of was letting me down gently.
They said I just wouldn’t fit in with their brand, or something.
But the thing is, I don’t even remember applying, so either I did it in my sleep or I need to go have a brain scan.
Or I guess someone maybe hacked my computer—”
“What do you mean you wouldn’t fit their brand?”
Got him. Robbie shrugged and shoved the second half of the brussels sprout into his cheek. “How should I know? I don’t even remember applying. Obviously the sales pitch of yours truly was pretty half-assed—”
“It was not half-assed!” Sawyer said indignantly.
Robbie raised his eyebrows.
Sawyer said, “Shit.”
“Forgery is a crime, you know. Or would it be impersonation? I’m not totally clear on the details. I’ll have to ask Eugene.” His friend, former billet brother, and convenient attorney.
Sawyer paled. “Robbie, wait—”
Finally Robbie took pity on him. “I said yes, kid.”
Sawyer’s mouth fell open. “You got cast? You said—”
“I said what you needed to hear to keep your ego in line, gremlin. The show sounds fun. It’s for a good cause.
” And Robbie didn’t have anything going on that summer anyway, apart from feeding Sawyer’s scrawny ass.
The show would at least make working out fun and different for a while.
Besides, Robbie could never resist the chance to be a ham.
He raised a finger before Sawyer could enjoy his success too much. “But.”
“But?” Sawyer repeated with a hopeful nod, wide-eyed.
“Try to stop breaking the law, okay? Any bail money I have to spend on you is coming out of your college fund.”
When the front door opened, Finn was stuck under the kitchen sink, halfway through unclogging the drain for the third time that year because Holly never remembered to put the little strainer thingy in.
“Finn?”
“In the kitchen,” he called back.
There was a hesitation, then guilty footsteps, then Holly said, “Again?”
“Don’t have the nerve to sound surprised about it,” Finn grumbled, but he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice.
Holly might not be the world’s best roommate, but she was a pretty good landlord and his best friend.
Besides, Finn liked doing all the minor repairs that came with keeping up an old house. It made him feel all manly.
Holly groaned. “I swear if you’d just let me pay for a kitchen disposal—”
Finn finished detaching the U-bend and shoved the bucket underneath to catch the slop. He’d learned his lesson the first time: safety goggles.
He poked his head out from under the sink. “I don’t think the wiring can take it. Plus you’d also need a whole new sink, and a plumber, because I’m not fucking around with the supply lines—”
“I said I would pay for it.” She kicked him gently in the thigh. “Come up here for a minute, I’m having a crisis.”
So is the kitchen sink, Finn thought, but he wiped his hands on a rag and dragged himself upright and into one of Holly’s grandmother’s ancient kitchen chairs. “What’s up?”
“Stef got in a car accident. Broke her collarbone.”
Finn blinked. “Oh shit. She’s okay otherwise?”
Holly nodded like a bobblehead, her eyes wide. “Oh, yeah, I mean her car is fucked, but she’s gonna recover and everything. Just, uh, not to make this about me? But filming is supposed to start this week and that is not a lot of time to find and prep a replacement ice dancer. Even in Canada.”
“Oh. Yeah, shit.” Holly worked as a producer on Dance Your Ice Off, a competition reality show that paired professional ice dancers with hockey players.
The winning pair won a donation to the charitable cause of their choice.
That was how Finn and Holly first met, back when he was fresh off an injury that sidelined him for an entire season and nursing the wounds of his pairs partner moving on to greener pastures.
Holly had initially hauled Finn in as a partner for one of the female hockey players, but he soon graduated to planning the choreography for all the competitors.
Something occurred to him, and his heart sank. “You’re not asking me if I’ll call Paris—”
“Ew.” Holly wrinkled her nose. “No. Gross.”
Finn unclenched. Good. He and Paris hadn’t been good for each other romantically or professionally.
They were cordial now, but he didn’t want to work with her, and wouldn’t even if she hadn’t broken his heart.
Could you break someone’s heart if it was already in pieces from a potentially career-ending injury?
He didn’t blame her for moving on and getting a new skating partner with Finn’s professional future up in the air. At least not anymore.
It sucked that she’d fallen in love with that guy, though. “Okay, so…?”
“So I’m asking if you’ll do it.”
Blink. Nope. He didn’t follow. “If I’ll do what?”
She smacked his arm. “If you’ll partner this guy!”
Oh.
He raised his eyebrows. “You think some random macho hockey player—”
“A random macho hockey player that signed up to be on Dance Your Ice Off,” Holly corrected.
“—is going to be cool dancing in a competition with another guy?”
Holly smiled brightly. “Well, considering the charity he picked was the LGBT Youth Line, I think odds are pretty good.”
Finn closed his mouth around his objection. That was interesting. “What about the choreography?” he asked. “I’m not exactly going to be able to do that and the competition. I won’t have time. Plus I’d definitely be putting more work into my team’s program.”
With a flap of her hand, Holly dismissed this. “Finding another choreographer will be a lot easier than finding another capable skater who knows the ropes and doesn’t suck on camera.”
He read between the lines. “Meaning you already lined up someone?”
She widened her eyes in faux innocence. “I’m very good at my job. By which I mean Stef said she’d switch places.”
Finn tapped his fingers on the table. “We’re going to be at a disadvantage.
” The show’s winners were chosen by viewer vote.
With two men skating, they’d be limited in terms of choreography and flashiness.
Female hockey players weren’t exactly featherweights, but Finn worked out; he could still do simple lifts and holds and spins on partners who were larger than the average female skater.
But a former NHL player who weighed upwards of two hundred pounds? Probably not.
“But you’ll have the novelty factor. And I bet some people will watch and vote for you because you’re a same-sex pair.”
The novelty factor wasn’t just fun for audiences, Finn thought. It could be fun for him too. It would totally change his approach to choreography. They could do something more athletic than artistic, maybe, play into that side of things….
“Fiiiiiiinn,” she pleaded.
He rolled his eyes. “You already know I’m going to do it.”
She whooped. “Yes!”
“If,” he went on, “you talk to this guy and get him to sign off on having a male partner. No surprising him with it the first day of filming. Wanting to support a gay cause is not the same as being cool dancing with another guy on TV.”
“I mean, duh,” Holly said. “I’m not an asshole. I wouldn’t sign you up for weeks of torment with a homophobe.”
“I think you’re optimistic about how long we’re going to last on the show.” Chances were they’d be voted off within the first few rounds. Finn still danced, but he didn’t compete. He was rusty.
“You don’t even know who you’re paired with yet and you’re already giving up? Where’s that winning spirit?”
“In the bucket under the sink with the leftovers from the last three months’ dinners.”
“Ugh.” She recoiled. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”
“Come on,” Finn said as he stood up. “You can go dump that shit in the compost while I put the sink back together, and then you can tell me about my mystery ice-dance partner.”
Holly stuck her hand out, and they shook on it. “Deal.”
“Mr. Zeiger?”
Robbie tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear and slammed the garage door closed with his hip, all while juggling the groceries. “Speaking.”
“Hi, Mr. Zeiger. This is Holly Finch with Dance Your Ice Off.”
Robbie kicked off his sandals and waddled to the kitchen table to deposit the bags. “Ms. Finch, hi. What can I do for you?” He hoped the schedule hadn’t changed for next week. He’d already done all the meal planning and bought the groceries and—
“—an accident, and isn’t available to skate as your partner.”
Wait, shit, was he getting fired because his pairs partner got hurt? Sawyer would be devastated. “Okay,” he said slowly. “So…?”
“The thing is, we have another skater available to pair you with. But I wanted to call and check with you to see if you’d be okay with that first, since I’d be putting you with our choreographer, Finn.”
Huh. “Oh,” Robbie said.
He took a minute to work through how he felt about that.
Robbie never came out publicly while he was playing, although some of his former teammates knew he was bi. He’d never dated a man, though he’d had sex with a few. He was old, he liked women too, and it had never seemed worth the hassle.
Now that he was retired and increasingly solo-raising a queer kid, his priorities had shifted.
He didn’t have to come out just to be a guy’s partner on a dumb reality show.
But if he changed his mind about being on the show because of that, what kind of example was he setting for Sawyer? Plus he’d be letting his charity down.
“I mean, sorry. I spaced out for a second there. Yeah, that’s fine.” He paused. “Do I, like, need to come in and meet this guy?” He and Stef had already met once last month, to ensure they’d get along.
“That would be ideal, but filming starts in two days and Finn’s schedule is busy. I don’t suppose you’re free later this afternoon?”