17. Xander
SEVENTEEN
Xander
Brady led me indoors and into the kitchen.
“Soda?” he asked as he tugged open the fridge then tossed a can at me.
The kitchen looked like a cyclone had blown through it but that was to be expected.
Lisa was feeding a hundred people. The woman was amazing.
“Sorry. It’s diet. Lisa’s on this weight loss thing. ” He popped the tab with a hearty sigh.
“Diet is fine.”
“I hate diet soda,” he lamented then drained half the can. I opened mine, took a sip, and then reached down to pet Bourque who was cleaning up crumbs. A canine Roomba. “Okay, so I wanted to talk to you in private about this.”
“Oh-kay.” I could feel an impending doom moving into the room like a low fog.
“I think they’re going to trade me.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Won’t happen. You’re the team captain. They won’t trade you.”
Brady smiled into his soda can. “My friend, they traded Gretzky.” Okay yeah, they did.
But my point still stood. Brady Rowe was Boston hockey.
He fucking lived and breathed this team and this town.
“My agent just called me before the party started. Sinclair said that they’d be willing to let me stay at a diminished capacity for one year with a pay cut. ”
“What? What the fuck does that even mean?” The dog looked up at my loud outburst. I reached down to pet his soft head.
“It means they want me to sit on the bench and impart wisdom to all the young kids they’re going to bring in to replace me.
” His brow furrowed as he stared into his can.
“Which is utter bullshit.” His green eyes lifted from his soda to me and the pain I saw in them gutted me.
Fucking Sinclair is doing this to him. I mean I knew we were nothing but commodities, living breathing stocks and bonds to be shuffled and sold off when our worth began to dip a bit, but this kind of shit sucked.
“I’m not willing to do that. I either play balls to the wall or I leave now with some dignity. ”
My head was full of whirling thoughts and feelings. The dog woofed lightly in greeting. I craned my head to see who was coming in while taking a sip of soda to wet my whistle. I nearly choked when I saw the team owner standing in the doorway.
“The little lady told me I could find you here,” Nick said then walked into the room as if he owned the place. I glowered at him. “Xander, can Brady and I have a moment?”
I opened my mouth to tell the Miami Vice knockoff to go fuck himself when Brady chimed in. Which probably saved me from being traded to Siberia. Who the hell wears a pink shirt with white shorts other than Crockett and/or Tubbs?
“Xander is one of my best friends and my defensive partner. He knows me better than my wife. I just told him about the impasse that we’re at.
” He tossed his can into the sink where the remaining soda poured out, fizzing its way down the drain.
“Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be talking to my agent about this? ”
“Yeah, probably but he was getting on my nerves. Guy’s like a chihuahua with a rectal malady.” That was Nick. Just say what’s on your mind. “Fucking snipping and barking. I like to talk face to face with the people I’m doing business with.”
Brady exhaled deeply, eased his freshly rebuilt shoulder—God knows how many times he’d had them operated on by now—and leveled a stoic stare at Nick.
“Okay then explain to me why you’re offering me a shitty one year diminished responsibility contract.”
“Because we need new blood. Look at our roster. Half the guys look like you.” Nick waved a hand heavy with gold rings at Brady then me.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Our roster is heavy with players thirty and over. We need to start making moves to bring up the young talent. I knew you’d not go quietly into the night, so this is a nice bridge contract.
You spend a year with… maybe with another team, easing into retirement while passing along all your knowledge to the young guns. ”
Another team? The fuck!
“I hate all of those suggestions,” Brady said, and I nodded in agreement.
“I figured you would. I know you have pride. I also know what the stats are telling me. We’re rebuilding.
Now, you can take this offer or not. Your contract is about to expire so you’re free to go to some other team with our blessings.
Or you can retire, and we’ll find you a spot on the coaching staff. It’s nothing personal. Just money.”
Brady and I exchanged looks. So this rebuild was really taking place. Huh. And the coaches were getting the chop just like some of the players. Nothing new there. Coaches were usually cannon fodder when a team was slipping in production.
Nick nodded, his ebony hair catching glints of the overhead lights. “You should talk to your wife. Women tend to get upset when their husbands make decisions unilaterally. Been there and done that. So, you and your lovely bride ponder on your future.”
“We don’t need to talk,” Lisa said from behind us. I wonder how much she’d heard, but just the sound of her voice made Brady visibly relax. “We’ve already decided.”
She came to stand next to her husband, and Brady pulled her into his side, holding her close.
“I’m retiring,” Brady announced, and not one of us said a thing.
This was the end of a partnership for me that had been the making of me as a player.
Brady not wearing the C was something I never thought I’d have to deal with.
But he stared at me, and there was a peace in his eyes that I’d never seen before.
I bet he’d cried over this, and railed at the hockey gods for his injuries, but for his family, he’d chosen to stop.
I admired the hell out of him, extending my hand which he took in a sharp shake.
“Fuck, Brady,” I said with feeling.
“Yeah,” was all he said back before he pressed a smiling kiss to Lisa’s head. “It was time.” Then he put some distance between his wife and himself and stared at Nick. “I have something else to say.”
“This is my cue to leave,” Lisa murmured, and we all politely smiled as she left, waiting for whatever Brady was going to say that had him looking so serious.
“Xander should be captain.” He tilted his chin in defiance, expecting for Nick to argue.
“I know the team management has to have their eyes on him. He’s got considerable leadership capability, has been with the team for several years, the men respect him, and he’s got a cool head on the ice. He’d be a perfect choice.”
Nick’s dark eyes flickered to me then back to Brady.
“He’s queer,” Nick blurted out as if that were something bad. My eyes narrowed as did Brady’s.
“Excuse me,” I said since Brady seemed to be dumbstruck as well as pissed. “Are you saying that because I’m bi I’d not be a good captain for this team?”
Nick exhaled dramatically. “Got any scotch in that thing?” He jerked a thumb at the fridge. Brady shook his head. Outside the squeals of children could be heard. “I never said you wouldn’t be a good captain. I just said you’re queer and that makes things trickier.”
“How the hell can you stand there and spout such bullshit?” Brady snapped. The dog slunk out of the kitchen, poor old sod. I’d have to sneak him a bite of hot dog later. “You yourself stood in front of the team not that long ago and said you slept with men.”
“Yeah, I did and yeah I do, but I’m not the captain. I’m the owner. I drive too fast. I drink too much scotch. I smoke imported Cuban cigars, and I dress in what many would call South Palm Beach Retro. No one cares what I do. The fans could give two shits if I fucked llamas.”
I wanted to argue. Really I did but the bastard had a point. Players were held up to a different standard, and captains were even more rigorously vetted.
“This is stupid,” Brady interjected. “The fact that he’s into guys should have no bearing. My brother Ten—”
“Isn’t the Railers captain,” Nick quickly threw out.
And there it was, the fact of the moment, lying on the counter next to a dirty cake pan.
“Look, I’m not saying it’s right. To be honest, it sucks big hairy balls.
But this is the world we live in at the moment.
The fans are still trying to adjust to there being a bisexual man on the team.
Two if you count your cousin who’s pretending to be discreet but is seen all over town with his barista boyfriend.
I just saw the pictures he shared on Instagram from their little trip to Disney World.
Nothing like two queers in mouse ears to spark the hearts and likes from the female fans. ”
Austin and Robbie. Yeah, they weren’t exactly being super discreet. And I could understand that completely. I wasn’t hiding my boyfriend either. Fuck that. I was out and proud and loved Mason dearly.
“As the diversity rep—”
Nick waved a hand at Brady. “You don’t have to go there.
I know. I know. I’m just saying that the Railers aren’t stupid.
Yes, Tennant and Xander are great alternates.
Yes, they should get the C for their sweaters.
I’m just not sure this is the proper time for management to choose a bisexual man for such a coveted position.
” Brady and I both started mouthing off.
Nick, all five foot seven of him talked over our robust protests.
“Would you two shut the hell up? Jesus loves my sweet mother you guys make my life a roller skate.”
“What does that even mean?” I enquired.
“It’s something my mother says.” Ah so a Greek saying.
That didn’t clear up a thing. “It’s like nothing ever goes steady or easy with this team.
I’m always on my ass with the wind knocked out of me.
” I glanced at Brady, who was just as befuddled as I was by the looks.
“Now that I can speak I’ll finish. Picking a new captain will be turned over to the team to choose who leads them. ”
Brady’s mouth dropped. I blinked as if I’d collided with a rhino.