Chapter 6
ROWAN
The primary thing that Felix loved making fun of Rowan for was the fact that while he was excellent at hockey, he was bad at everything else.
If he was parallel parking, he’d have Felix critiquing his technique.
If he was playing basketball with the boys, they picked him last. If he hung out with Felix on off days, he would get shoved out of the kitchen so, as Felix said, “we don’t have to call the fire department. ”
He was not surprised to learn he was still terrible at blackjack. He could hear Felix in the back of his head. “You have to know how to count above ten to play blackjack, babe.”
A measure of comfort on a hockey team was how easily your teammates would chirp you, and no one at the table full of Serpents had said a negative word as he lost hand after hand.
“Is there a plan for the night after this?” Rowan asked.
On a regular roadie with the Victory, he would already be in bed by now.
He refrained from looking at his watch. They had a day off and a late start the next day, since everyone expected the boys to enjoy their time in Vegas.
He knew Vic was trying to endear their teammates to him, though, so he had decided to commit.
As long as it didn’t involve sitting at a blackjack table all night.
“We’re getting drinks,” Vic said. At the table next to them, Rowan could see Theo’s profile as he played his hand and Sammy made him laugh.
Theo had a killer smile, and because Rowan had always been hockey-boy trash, he was viscerally attracted to the hole in Theo’s mouth, just one tooth missing to the left of his top two front teeth.
Rowan had been at the Jags game when his tooth had been knocked out by the butt end of a stick in a scuffle.
He had been the one to kiss it better. When they were young, Theo only put his falsie in when he was around his mom.
Rowan was glad to see he still left it out.
“Did you hear me?” Vic asked. “The boys want to walk the Strip. Fiko wants one of those super tall slushies or he will, and I quote, ‘absolutely die.’”
“I heard,” Rowan lied. He tapped his cards for another hit, not even paying attention to what he had in his hand, and bust. “That’s my last round. My dignity is hanging by a thread.”
“Yeah, yeah, some of us have to cash out chips, so you’re going to have to wait a few minutes.”
Rowan followed the small pack of guys through the casino floor to the cashier.
The best thing about casinos, Rowan thought, was their consistency.
They were always operating at one hundred percent.
Busy carpet, bright lights, loud sounds, servers bringing you shitty drinks for free.
Cigarette smoke everywhere. It was like walking into a tunnel.
When they finally found their way out to the Strip, the city lights glittered around them.
Rowan thought about what the city looked like when you flew in.
How Las Vegas was a sparkly little blip on a dark landscape.
He thought about how badly he wanted to go to bed.
“How are you settling in, bud?” Lincoln Daniels asked him, falling into step next to them as the rest of the guys led the way.
“Vic is a gracious host,” Rowan said. “Love being on the ice with you guys. You probably know that already.” Lincoln played on the top D-pair with Vic, and was frequently on the ice with Rowan. He was both responsible and offensive. Rowan’s favorite kind of D-man.
“You’ve certainly clammed up Laney.”
“We, uh.” Rowan searched for words that he could say that wouldn’t make both of them sound terribly immature.
“I get it. You probably haven’t had much contact since you were kids. We all have friendships like that. If anyone understands, it’s other guys in the league.”
Rowan thought Link probably didn’t have a friend who he used to feel so physically desperate for he couldn’t think. A friend who, in his mind’s eye, was shirtless and hickey-covered, laughing as Rowan tickled him, his body over Rowan’s right where it belonged.
He needed to stop thinking about teen Theo-and-Rowan. The past was over.
“Well, if you need any recs for stuff to do around SJ, I grew up in California, so I’m the hometown guy.”
“You didn’t grow up in San Jose.” Rowan would know. Rowan studied.
“Long Beach is closer than every other guy on this team. I at least grew up in the state.”
“Well, thanks, Link. Mostly it would be nice to make some friends. And then hopefully, at some point, Theo and I can figure out how to be friends again too. And then it’s straight to playoffs.”
“Step-by-step instructions, I love it,” Link said.
He put his number into Rowan’s phone and made them take a selfie together for his contact photo.
They both had big, colorful, alcoholic slushies in their hands, and Rowan was attributing Link’s sudden friendliness to the several drinks they both had back at the blackjack table.
Link carried the conversation. He had a lot to say about Las Vegas, and Rowan let him run his mouth, giving him grunting responses to encourage his monologuing.
He learned about a family vacation, several bachelor parties, and a number of NHL games, good and bad, and how they celebrated or nursed their wounds on the Strip after.
The entire time, he kept an eye on Theo in front of him, who was walking between Sammy and Fiko, his own tall slushie in his hand, swirled pink and blue. He combed a hand through his hair and laughed again, his face bright and strange after giving Rowan frown after frown.
As he watched, he developed a secondary goal for the season. Yes, he wanted to win the Cup. But he also wanted to be responsible for making Theo look like that.
They walked the Strip forever, until the already-tired athletes concluded they needed to split up—the boys who wanted to stay out and the boys who wanted to go back to the hotel to sleep. Rowan was in the second category. Theo was in the first.
Despite spending over an hour trying to catch his eye, Theo never looked at him.
Rowan tossed his half-empty slushie in an overfilled garbage on the way back to their hotel.