11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
“They’re your parents. You can tell them you want to watch a hockey game.”
Nandy just shakes his head, not taking his eyes from the road ahead. He’s tense. He’s never like this. He loves his parents. I love his parents. They’re my parents too. More so than my own. Ever since the day I came home with eyeliner on and announced my preference for boys.
I was 15, just shy of my 16th birthday. I had not expected the conversation to go well. I mean, I went into it with the same boisterous devil may care attitude that I have always done with everything. But I didn’t expect the wrath I got. I didn’t expect the red-faced fury on my father’s face. And I sure as hell didn’t expect to see the pain fill my mother’s eyes. The tears fell shortly thereafter.
“Where did we go wrong?” They asked over and over and over again.
“We can’t support this. We can’t allow this. As long as you are under our roof…”
And finally. “How could you do this to us ?”
And so it was that I found myself on the doorstep of the very house I’m walking up to now.
“Have you talked to him?”
Nandy nods.
“And he’s playing tonight?”
“Yes…everything should be back to normal… his words.”
I’m not sure what has Nandy so concerned about switching the TV to a hockey game. Peter, our dad, watches sports. He was a professional athlete briefly. They would never judge if he has an interest in a player. But Nandy would judge. Judge himself. He has feelings for TJ. Feelings he doesn’t want to have. Nandy doesn’t do feelings. Not even for me. I’ve never seen anyone shut off that part of his heart as effectively as he has. When Lawrence not only ripped his heart out, but did so in a humiliating fashion, I wasn’t sure Nandy would ever be okay. I let him use me in ways he never had before. Let him unleash his fury on me. I admittedly loved it. It took our play at the club to a new level. His feelings for me never changed, though. Our strong friendship .
I’ve always wanted more, but have been more than willing to take whatever he will give me. Any piece of Nandy is better than no piece at all. But now, TJ.
“You know watching or not watching will not change the flutter in your gut every time he calls or texts you.”
Nandy’s head whips around. “There is no flutter.”
I snort. No answer required. He knows he’s full of shit. And so am I. My stomach flutters every time I ask Nandy about him. I hang on every word to know what they spoke about. Every time I read something about him…every time I watch hockey. And yep, I’m the one watching games now too.
Analisa sweeps me into her arms as we stroll into the house. She is the still the leggy Scandinavian beauty she was when I first met her. Stick straight golden hair, blue eyes, flawless skin dusted with a few freckles. The ease and peace of a woman content in her own skin.
“Fynn!” She cups her hands around my cheeks and gazes at me. “So good to see you!” She plants a kiss on each cheek, then examines my eyes. “Your eyes look gorgeous…I want that eye shadow!”
I laugh, because I knew she would. When Nandy puts the bag of goodies from the city we brought with us on the kitchen island, I produce a small shiny foil bag from the large bag and hand it to her.
“I suspected you might like it!”
She squeals with the delight of a teenager and kisses me again.
Peter just laughs at the two of us and yanks me into a bear hug. “It’s been too long since you’ve joined a family dinner.”
It has. Not sure why.
The house smells amazing. I hadn’t even realized I was hungry until the scents hit me.
“You look tired,” I hear Analisa say to Nandy. “When do you get to take a break?”
Nandy shrugs. “Never it seems.” She looks my way and all I can do is shrug. “Does this count?” he asks. He stuffs a piece of herb rubbed cheese into his mouth and beelines for the piano in the corner of the large sunroom. I hear the tinkering with the keys begin. He finally sits and lets himself go for just a few moments.
As much as he loves the violin. And I think it is the only thing he truly loves anymore. It must feel good to play something else. Something that isn’t part of the job.
“Is he okay?”
I shrug again. Not sure what to say. He isn’t. He’s exhausted. He’s burnt out. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. Tour. The big stadiums anyway. I’m the only person he has said that out loud to, I think. And he’s only said it once. It wasn’t open for discussion then, when I pressed him on it. Encouraged him to take time off. Quit adding to the tour. He hasn’t brought it up since.
I turn my attention to the TV in the living room visible from the kitchen island. Peter is about to turn off the game he was watching. The hockey game! It’s not the Grizzlies game though.
“Wait.” I make my way into the room. “Leave it on. Actually, can you get other games besides Chicago?”
He nods. “Yes, I have access to all of them. Who do you want?”
“Colorado.”
And just like that, TJ’s face fills the screen. My breath hitches. Damn. He doesn’t have his helmet on.
“Oh my, he’s handsome,” Analisa says.
“Your mother has suddenly discovered hockey. We watched the game following the anthems Nandy played in Calgary, and it seems…well, she’s going to leave me for a hockey player.”
She tosses her dishtowel his way. He catches it, twists it into a rope and snaps her on the butt with it. He goes to do it again, and she grabs it this time and pulls him in for a sweet kiss. Our entire lives, they’ve been like this. Playful and kind and very much in love. God, what must that feel like? That strong of a bond for so many years.
TJ’s face disappears from the screen. The camera pulls away, showing his entire body. The players are warming up. He is kneeling down on one knee, stretching, joking with the player next to him. The broadcasters are obviously talking about TJ, his return to the game. Possibly speculation about his absence. He switches legs and twists and contorts his body, while the surrounding players begin to skate and toss pucks into the air and at the net. The camera pulls away farther to show all the Colorado players and I see TJ spread his legs into the splits and begin…oh, holy hell…to…well, fuck the ice…oh shit. The camera zooms in on another player and he does the same thing. Am I imagining this? Uh, I want to go to a game. This is how they warm up? Are they all this flexible?
Peter doesn’t miss my expression. He grins at me, then looks back at the TV.
I clear my throat. “We met TJ recently. He’s a big fan of Nandy…and his music.”
Nandy is standing in the sunroom doorway. His eyes locked on the screen as well. His lips slightly parted.
“Well, isn’t everyone,” Analisa says. “That’s exciting though. People have been raving about the anthems you performed in Calgary. I watched it on YouTube several times. That was extraordinary, honey.”
“Yeah, it was pretty cool,” Nandy says, tearing his eyes from the TV and not missing the opportunity to glare at me before joining us at the table.
“How are things at the club?” She asks.
“Good,” Nandy answers.
“You guys should come have a drink sometime. The bar looks amazing with its redesign. The addition of the stage was a smart move. Sometimes, I’ve even been known to get up and sing. And if you were there, I for sure would.”
Peter just smiles and shakes his head.
“And you know you can use a private room whenever you want, maybe some role playing.” I wink at her and her cheeks flush.
“Fynn!” Nandy scolds me.
“Oh, come on. It’s not like they don’t know what goes on there. And why not be able to come let loose and have a little fun?”
I also know in a million years they will never take me up on the invite. But I love that they ask. Love that they care. Love that we don’t have to lie about what goes on there. There is no shame in what we do there. And these beautiful people have never made Nandy or me feel shame for anything. Ever. I just wish they could get through to their No. 1 son. Make him take time off. Make him acknowledge his feelings for TJ. Make him take back control of his life.
He’s not only lying to them now. He’s lying to himself.
I will insert myself into the middle of things a lot. I’ll stir the pot. I’ll make conversations happen when I feel the need. But, I won’t overstep, if I can help it.
Nandy won’t look at me when we get into the car. He hasn’t looked at me for the last thirty minutes. Peter and Analisa were gently trying to encourage him to take a break. To come hang out at the house with them. Play the piano. Or how about playing nothing musical at all? And as he always does, he deflected.
“Why won’t you tell them?”
“Tell them what?”
“Tell them you’re fried. Tell them you can’t keep up this pace anymore. Tell them this is Randall’s dream now, not yours. Fire him.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Are you afraid of pissing him off? So what? You aren’t his only client. You’ve made him a shit-ton of money. I think he will be fine. Plus, he’s an asshole, Nan. You deserve better.”
“What do I do without him? How do I manage all this crap?”
“Well, you get rid of a lot of the crap to begin with. You find a new manager with your vision. Have you told anyone else what that vision is?”
He shakes his head.
“Not even TJ?”
He shakes his head again and still doesn’t look my way. “Why? What are you afraid of?”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
“Everything,” he finally says. “Everything.”
I sigh and look out the window as the brown fields whoosh past and the city lights come into view. “Drop me at the club.”