Chapter 21 Perry
PERRY
Both Carol and Evan fell asleep less than halfway through the movie. That was fine. Downtime was rare for us these days so I didn’t begrudge them the opportunity.
I considered the fact that I should have put in some hours working but I couldn’t bring myself to disturb Evan, who was using my lap for his pillow.
Not gonna lie, I also wasn’t mad about the warm, cozy feeling of us all there, relaxed, Alan’s fingers playing in my hair, Michael looking decidedly pleased with his similar dilemma of having Carol sprawled across him, snoring softly.
The very start of the credits had begun to roll when Robbie and his one-man entourage let themselves into the house.
“Hey,” Robbie whispered. “What’s happening? Wow. Smells good in here.”
“Supper is in the slow cooker,” Alan told him, glancing at the expensive wrist-watch he always wore. “Be ready in about another half hour.”
“Gives us time to shower. Come on.” He nodded his head towards the far end of the room where the two of them shared a huge room with two double beds and an ensuite bathroom.
His shadow followed without a word.
“Does that guy ever talk to any of you?” Michael asked after the door had shut behind them.
“I don’t even know his name,” Alan confessed. “We’ve had a couple of conversations about sponsorships and badge placement on the uniforms but other than that…” He shook his head.
In my lap, Evan yawned, but snuggled and didn’t open his eyes. “Name’s Mikko. I think it’s Finnish. He’s got an accent, so maybe he doesn’t speak much English?”
“Seemed fluent when I talked to him,” Alan said, “but you’re right about the accent.”
Carol rolled to his back and smiled up at Michael. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
For a second, they just looked at each other, and then Carol turned his head to address the room. “He has an adorable gap between his top front teeth. If you look close, you can see the scar from having a cleft palate repaired. He also has a lisp. I think he’s self-conscious about it.”
I hadn’t noticed the scar but maybe because I’d been distracted by his exquisite jawline and the impeccable arch of his pale, almost white eyebrows.
“You’re thinking about his jawline, aren’t you?” Evan asked me, reaching up to tug on one of my curls.
“You only know that because you are too.”
“How about you both stop thinking about someone else’s guy?” Alan grumbled.
Evan laughed. “Don’t fret, dear,” he said, moving his hand from my hair to Alan’s cheek and patting him like he might a soft puppy. “You’re the only one for us.”
Alan smiled a crooked, pleased little smile. “Good.”
“I take it back.” Michael pushed Carol off his lap and got up. “You three go back to fighting. This is ruining my teeth and my appetite.” He shuddered with his entire body. “Ick.” He grinned as he said it though, and ruffled my hair as he passed, headed for the kitchen. “Anyone else want a beer?”
Carol groaned.
“Not you,” Michael assured him. “You’re having water. Anyone else?” He’d made it to the fridge and had found himself a bottle, which he waved at us. “Gonna be your last chance to indulge in a while.”
“Not for me, thank you,” Alan said, patting Evan’s legs, indicating he wanted to get up. “I’ll also have water.”
“I’ll have one,” Evan said as he sat up and pressed his shoulder against mine.
“Same,” I agreed. “Thanks.”
“I’m making a salad to go with the chicken and potatoes. Anyone have any preferences?” Alan asked.
“Want me to chop—”
“No!” I said over Evan’s question, and at the same time Alan said, “Definitely not.”
“You both suck.” Evan pouted as he accepted a bottle from Michael.
“You can set the table, precious,” Alan told him.
“Oh gee, can I?”
Alan lifted an eyebrow at him. “And we’ll talk about who sucks later.”
“Fine, fine. I’m on it.”
“Low hanging fruit, Al,” Michael said.
Alan just grinned.
Ignoring them, I got up with Evan. “I’ll help you, babe.” Taking my beer from Michael, I followed Evan to the sideboard where the dishes lived.
Robbie joined us to help when he emerged with Mikko a few minutes later, both of them changed and with damp hair. Mikko’s signature spikes were notably absent, and I noticed he’d let the back of his hair grow out, sporting an impressive mullet.
I commented on it and he shrugged.
“He’s growing it out, to match the rest of us,” Robbie supplied. “Not the top part, because the spikes are ho—h-how it looks best.” He blushed but surged on. “And since we’re the only team not all trimmed up and shaved, he felt like he should match the rest of us.”
Alan nodded. “About that.”
“I am not cutting my hair,” Carol said. “Non. Je refuse.” He made a slashing motion with his hand.
“Okay,” Alan said carefully. “Then make sure you put it back during events, and no roots. If you’re going to dye it that…
interesting… plum colour, keep it tidy.” He turned to Michael.
“Same with yours. Keep it off your face, as well.” He turned next to me and Evan.
“Ev, in a few more weeks, you’ll be able to get the front part into a half ponytail the way Michael and I do.
Perry.” He sighed. “Fucking curls, darling. Adorable, but we’ll have to figure something out. ”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s never been a problem.”
“Because if we are going to be known as the long hair hippie team, I at least want us to be classy about it, yeah?”
“My curls aren’t classy?”
“Your curls are perfect.” Evan defended me and I loved him for it.
“They are. But Curling Canada has certain standards and while I intend on bucking them a bit, I want to do so in a respectful way. So all I’m asking is that we pull them off your face.”
“You think it’s bad now,” I said. “You can’t even imagine what it’s like if I try to put it back.”
“Meaning?”
I grabbed a handful of it and pulled it back, knowing it created a huge puff on top of my head.
“I see. We’ll figure it out, but while we’re on the subject, I also have to ask the two of you, and you, Carol, to stop wearing ripped jeans to the rinks. And Carol, that ratty sweater of yours will have to stay home as well.”
“I love this sweater.” Carol fingered the frayed cuffs.
“We’ll get you another just like it but without the frays.”
“That’s the best part.”
Alan sighed.
“Fine, fine. Whatever. No nice soft clothes. Just the stiff kind that hurt.”
“You can wear mine, Carol,” Michael offered. “It’s soft but stylish.”
Carol brightened at that and sipped the water Michael handed him.
“We have to up our game just a bit,” Alan said. “We’ll be playing in higher profile tournaments going forward and I want us to represent well. Show the curling world we can do that in style, yes?”
“Yes, boss,” Carol grumbled.
“Good. Perry.” He waggled his fingers at the table. “Finish up. The chicken is ready.”
“It’s okay,” Evan stage-whispered. “I’m gonna call Sheri.”
“Why?”
“Her hair is almost as curly as yours and she has to wear it back for work. I’ll ask her for tutorials.”
“I don’t get why it matters.”
“I do. Every curler looks exactly the same. Clean-shaven, cropped hair. Not us. We all have long hair and we all want to keep it long, so we have to show them that we can look as classic as the rest of them, but better. Us.”
“Okay, I get that. But y’all might just have to live with my puffball hair. It doesn’t do much else but corkscrew out of my head in every direction.”
“You need product,” Mikko said quietly to me, picking at my curls and running a few of the strands through his fingers. “Leave it with me.” The soft shushing of his words due to his accent made him even softer-spoken than the quiet tone, and I found it calming.
“Thanks.”
He nodded and moved off, closer to Robbie, whispering something in his ear.
Robbie nodded and looked over. “Next time we have an afternoon off, Mikko will take us shopping.”
“We can—”
“Please,” Mikko said, and I heard the even softer slide of the “s” as he looked away.
“Sure. Okay. Shopping’s good.”
The man’s smile, directed at Robbie, though I think it was because I’d agreed, was almost angelic. No wonder Robbie had it bad for the guy.
“We’re being rebranded,” Evan teased, drawing my attention back to him.
“I guess so.”
He breathed in deep and made his eyes big. “It’s getting real.”
I pulled him into a hug. He was right. New clothes and better hair weren’t that big a deal on their own, but paired with the long season of tournaments about to come to an end, the summer ahead of training and practice, with hardly being home, and asking for more and more cutbacks to my work schedule to accommodate it all, and there was no denying we were on the road to something big.
As the seven of us gathered around the table to eat the chicken, potatoes, and salad, it felt like a last meal of sorts, but also, like a feast before something big.
Something life-changing in an even more permanent way than being able to say I’d once had a chance to be on the Canadian Olympic Team.