Chapter 20 #2
And somehow, we make it through the second period.
I fucking hate the wiffle ball thing. Obviously.
But finally it’s over.
Between the second and third, Nora spends more time on the ice with her mic, talking to the fans.
Then the mascots show up.
Rougie the Rougarou and Rascal the Otter weren’t there at the start.
It’s just a damned scrimmage.
But clearly between the start and now, Nora, or Nora and Astrid, or maybe just Astrid…no, Nora was definitely involved…decided the mascots needed to be here, so they’ve skated, done a dance of their own, and are now up in the stands with the fans.
And they’re pulling options out of a hat for the third period.
Literally.
Nora has a gigantic fedora , and she’s apparently got picks for things like what the final three minutes—three minutes?
Good lord all this extra shit is already making every period take twice as long—of the game will look like, what the goalies have to do, how the mascots will be involved—kill me now—and what the losers of the game will do at the end.
Options include something with the Zamboni that I didn’t fully understand (because I wasn’t paying attention), serenading the audience, and something else with the mascots that I didn’t catch.
I’m far more focused on the fact that we have a cool app to use for voting, but we’re pulling stuff out of a hat, the scoreboard isn’t working, and no one seems to know what exactly the score is, and that I can’t believe I didn’t hit one fucking wiffle ball into the goal.
The third period starts, whether I want it to or not, and I pray for ten minutes of straightforward hockey.
I don’t get it.
But it’s not because of a random dance number, too many points, or a bad call.
It’s because all of a sudden Lawson and Beckett are brawling on our end of the ice.
What the fuck?
By the time I get to them, Lawson has Beckett pinned against the glass and his face pressed against Beckett’s.
“Knock it off, Moore!” Lawson yells. “I’m not putting up with this shit!”
Beckett shoves against him, but Lawson has a few pounds on him and doesn’t move much.
“Get off me, asshole!” Beckett swings his arm, smacking it against the side of Lawson’s helmet.
“Stop being a cocky little shit!”
“Stop acting like you’re better than everyone!”
“Take something seriously for one fucking minute!” Lawson lets up and then slams Beckett into the wall again.
“Why can’t you ever not be a prick?” Beckett fumes, shoving Lawson back.
“Okay, enough!” I bellow, pulling Lawson off of Beckett.
All four refs are around us, along with our entire team. Wes grabs Lawson when he tries to go for Beckett again, and Teddy and Ingrid both move in front of Beckett to keep him back.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demand, a hand on each of their chests.
“I’m fucking sick of his attitude,” Beckett says.
“My attitude?” Lawson says. “Jesus, at least I’m here for hockey and not as some publicity stunt.”
“This is not the time for this! Jesus!” I shove at them both.
“So what do we do if the players fighting are on the same team?” Tanner asks the other referees.
I shake my head and look over to where Nora is sitting.
Well, now standing. Everyone is on their feet.
She looks worried though. Upset even.
I don’t fucking like that.
These two jackasses upset Nora on this night when things were going so well for her and making her happy.
This is bonkers hockey. It makes no sense. It’s constantly changing. There’s no set rules.
But everyone is having a great time. At least they were.
“Come on,” I say to Beckett and Lawson.
“What?” Beckett asks.
“Where?” Lawson asks.
“Center ice. There’s got to be a penalty for this, right?” I grab them both by the back collar of their jerseys and skate to the middle of the rink.
The spotlight finds me. “Well,” I say to the crowd. “I guess as the captain of the Revelers—”
“You’re the captain?” Beckett asks.
“I am now,” I tell him dryly.
There’s light laughter all around.
“As the captain,” I say again, addressing the crowd. “It’s kind of a me problem when two players on my team go at it, I guess.” I look from Lawson to Beckett. “So I suppose I’m the one who needs to do something about it.”
They both look at me with curiosity. Not fear or intimidation, which I should probably be offended by, but interest and mild amusement.
I sigh.
“Can I borrow your mic, Nora?” I ask.
Her eyes widen, and she looks, thank God, delighted again.
She’s behind the glass, but right by her first row seat is a door that leads onto the ice. She skates out, handing me the mic.
“What are you doing?” she asks softly.
“Trying to remember the real goal here tonight,” I tell her.
Her smile tells me this is the right call.
I clear my throat.
And start singing.
I’m not sure I know all the words to “Lean On Me,” but hopefully I only need to get through the first little verse and the chorus.
Not only did she not expect me to sing, but I can tell she didn’t expect me to have a really good voice. Yeah, I can fucking sing. I don’t do it much, but, what can I say? I’m a talented guy.
As I croon “to” Beckett and Lawson about leaning on me during their “tough times”, her smile gets brighter and brighter, and her eyes actually sparkle.
Both Beckett and Lawson are laughing by the time I’m done, the entire crowd cheers loudly, and Nora whispers, “That was really hot,” when I hand the mic back to her.
I still hate the rest of the third period.
But maybe not as much as I did before.