Chapter 6
NICKY
THE RUBBER PUCKIES GROUP CHAT
Gus
I’m just saying, Baby Tex makes me want my own.
Obie
But it’s not like a dog. You don’t just *get* a baby. Juliette was asleep the entire time we were there and used you as a pillow.
Gus
Exactly. She chose me to sleep on. I have baby magic.
Wellsy
Here we go…
Hutchy
I have nine years between me and my little brother. TRUST ME when I say, you have no magic. You were just with a newborn.
Gus
You’re wrong, Hutch. Just because you never had it, doesn’t mean I don’t. *Magic*
Bones
I see the bubbles bouncing, Hutch. It’s not worth arguing with him.
Gus, a newborn can sleep anywhere, anytime, through almost anything. Talk to me when you are up to your elbows in shit and Juliette has discovered her lungs.
I shake my head as the messages continue to roll in: Gus swearing he’s going to “get” a baby, and everyone else reminding him how delusional that is.
Beyond the screen of my phone, Natalia sits at the dining room table, garbage bags covering the surface and a massive orange pumpkin in the center.
She’s kneeling on a dining chair, one hand on the table for balance while she paints the gourd an array of rainbow colors.
It’s mid-October, still too early to carve a jack-o-lantern, but the Halloween spirit has taken hold.
So…Halloween party. We need costumes.
I steer the conversation in the chat back to the original topic.
Halloween in the NHL is a big deal. It’s the first milestone of the season.
We can collectively relax after camp, pre-season, and the first few games of the regular season.
Someone usually hosts a party on one of our off nights, but this year, the organization has decided to throw it.
It’s an all-day affair, with a public carnival for families and meet-and-greets with players, followed by a private function for the team and employees.
There’s even a costume contest, and the guys and I are determined to win.
Obie
We need GOOD costumes. I’m not going to watch us get beaten by Ted in accounting. No offense to Ted.
Hutchy
Ted’s a great guy, but yeah, he’s going down.
Wellsy
Only people I’m comfortable losing to are my fiancée and Coach.
There are several thumbs-up reactions. When Crosby and Violet announced their engagement at the end of camp, we were all thrilled for them. I support the man for being happy to watch his woman shine—and I’m not too proud to admit my healthy respect for Coach means I’m okay seeing him win.
Bones
What if we went as The Avengers? Nicky can be The Hulk, Wellsy is Captain America, Hutchy as Hawkeye, Obie is Iron Man, and I’ll be Thor.
Gus
What about me?
Bones
Loki. One thousand percent, you get to be Loki.
Laughter emojis fill the screen, and I chuckle into my hand. Gus sends a middle-finger reply. It’s not a terrible group costume idea, but maybe a little overdone.
Hutchy
Could we get Violet to join as Black Widow?
Wellsy
Violet and Bea are doing their own thing. It’s a big secret, but the two of them are doing something.
Obie
If they’ve joined forces, we’re probably fucked.
My mind immediately begins to conjure Bea in an array of costumes, each sexier than the last. A witch in a flowing black dress.
A referee in tiny shorts and a zebra shirt.
A Midnight fan in just a jersey. My jersey.
Fuck. That last one has me shifting in my seat and blushing when Natalia asks for the package of glittery gems to add to her pumpkin.
I make it a rule not to get caught with a chub by my kid.
Gus
Not if I have anything to say about it. Bones, it was a great idea, but I think I have exactly what we need to pull this off.
It’s normal to be scared, right?
Hutchy
Say a prayer, boys.
Wellsy
It’s likely going to be terrifying, but also brilliant.
Bones
“Terrifying but brilliant” - Gus, in a nutshell.
Gus
How many of you have seen the cinematic masterpiece that is “Miss Congeniality”?
Obie
Oh fuck me.
It’s the perfect Sunday in late October.
Clear blue skies, a gentle, cool westerly breeze taking the edge off the bright sunshine draping over The Midnight’s first Fall Family Carnival.
Natalia’s hand is firmly in mine as we walk through the entrance.
She’s dressed as a Portland Lumberjack baseball player.
I try not to take it personally that she’s gotten into a sport I don’t play, but the emerald-and-black jersey with gold piping is her newest prized possession.
It highlights the first female MLB player’s last name and number: an internet star from her years in a boutique league that garners a lot of love from their fans for their outlandish dances and game antics.
A couple of weeks ago, Bea introduced Natalia to Georgia Souter one day after school.
She came over to the house to film family footage for the crew when Natalia arrived home with Ms. Margaret, crying.
A boy in another class had told Natalia she couldn’t play ball with him and some others at recess because she was “just a girl.”
While I bottled up the choice turn of phrase I had for the little shit, Bea stepped in with a gently flustered attitude that somehow settled Natalia.
With a soft conversation, Bea reassured Natalia that being a girl didn’t put any limitations on her, except for the ones she wanted to believe were true.
She told my daughter about Manon Rhéaume, the first woman to play in the NHL, who played the same position as me.
Natalia sniffled and leaned into Bea’s side on the couch as Bea brought up videos of Georgia Souter playing her first MLB game last spring.
Natalia was hooked, and I gave up trying to ignore my attraction for Bea right then.
Since then, it has taken no small amount of effort to remain completely professional in her presence.
“Daddy, can I please have some cotton candy?” Natalia asks, pulling at my hand as she points to a vending stall nearby. I hesitate, weighing up how much sugar and processed food I’ll be letting her consume today, when a familiar voice halts all thought.
“If you come to a festival, you have to have candy floss!”
“Bea!” Natalia drops me like I’m yesterday’s toy and immediately makes a break for the woman walking toward me.
Her black jeans hug her thighs before flaring over a pair of black Jack Purcell shoes.
An oversized black tee with designer bleach stains and holes sits loosely on her shoulders, tall and fractured letters asking, “Be My Frankenstein?” on the front.
With ease, Bea scoops Nat up, situating my daughter over a hip before booping her on the nose with her finger and gesturing to her jersey with delight.
“Where’s your costume?” I ask as I approach, clenching my fist to keep my hand from reaching for her. With Nat in her arms, the temptation to tuck them both against me is stronger than ever.
“I didn’t grow up doing the whole Halloween thing in the UK.
Sure, there are costumes and now more trick-or-treating, but the holiday lacks a certain vibe compared to here.
When stacked against each other, it feels more like any other day—only you’re more likely to see superheroes and zombies in the village,” Bea replies.
She gives Natalia a squeeze and a big smile when my daughter’s mouth pops open with surprise that this frivolity is not shared by the rest of the world.
“But that’s what makes all of this so much fun!
I get to see what it’s all about with you, but I’m saving my costume for tonight. Just like your dad.”
Her soft brown eyes do a quick once-over of my jeans and long-sleeved black Midnight shirt.
Team gear is my standard outfit for meet-and-greets, which I have to attend soon.
The guys and I are doing a rotation through the booth in shifts, and they’ll take Natalia around to enjoy the event when I’m on.
“Daddy has a pretty dress,” Natalia whispers with a volume that belies the secret into Bea’s ear. “He looks like a princess!”
“You’re not supposed to tell anyone!” I reach for her, wiggling my fingers under her arms in punishment for her loose lips. When I take her from Bea, I flash a smile at the curiosity on her face, hoping to downplay the breach of security on our group costume.
“But Bea’s not just anyone, she’s my friend,” Natalia reasons as I set her on the ground.
Sincerity bleeds into her simple statement, and I realize how true it is.
Bea isn’t just “anyone.” From our initial interactions with mutual friends to our near-daily interactions at the practice facility and occasional visits to my house in the afternoon for the documentary, Bea has seamlessly woven into the fabric of my carefully structured life.
She might be professional with me, but I feel her care and consideration go beyond that when we’re together, especially when Natalia is around.
Bea is my friend. She’s our friend. And I love how that feels.
“Which is exactly why I came to find you,” Bea says. Her voice sounds thick, as though she was deeply touched by Natalia’s announcement. With a quick glance, I catch the watery smile she gives before she continues, “I was hoping you’d show me all of your favorite rides while your dad works?”
“Yes, please! We can play games and go on the Ferris Wheel!” Natalia’s face lights up, and she bounces on the balls of her feet. Bea laughs at her enthusiasm but looks to me for permission.
“If you’re okay with having me watch her for a shift? I think Gus is challenging Obie to ring toss or something. It was getting competitive.” Bea smiles as she seeks my permission.
It’s the first time the two of them will be alone together, but my trust in Bea’s ability to look after Natalia’s well-being surpasses even some of my teammates at this point. I nod, and Nat squeals.