Chapter 48
48
DONNIE
The sound of Toby calling me ‘Daddy’ does not give me any feelings but the icky kind.
“I am so not a Daddy. Pick another title, please.” I grimace. Nothing against the Daddies of the world, but at best I am an Uncle as far as the dynamics go. I like littles and brats to hang out with, but I do not want one for myself. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.
Shiloh mumbles something under his breath that I don’t quite catch.
“Master won’t work!” Toby tells him. “You’re black! Or… at least close enough that some busybody tone-deaf do-gooder is going to go all crazy on him in the club if you’re calling him Master.”
“Ugh! What is with everyone’s insistence that I can’t use the terms I want just because my grandmother fucked a black man?!”
Shiloh falls back against the arm of the couch in exasperation and throws his legs over Toby’s lap. “It’s not like I’m going to give a shit what anyone there thinks outside of our friends and you know they won’t care.”
Resting my forearms on my thighs, I lean forward to be closer in case they start talking low again.
“You know he’s right, Kitten,” I say when it is obvious no one else is going to be talking. “There are a lot of people in the world right now who think everyone should think like them and they will make drama and confrontation where no one wants it just to feel better about themselves. I don’t think it’s a good idea to make it easy on them. There’s another title for me. We just need to think about it.”
He sighs and sits up, leaving his feet in Toby’s lap.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “But while we’re thinking about it, you need to tell us what the fuck happened to you tonight. You were just gone and replaced with someone I haven’t seen before…”
I gaze into his soulful copper eyes and sigh.
“As much as I’d rather talk about what happened with you in the bathroom, I suppose this is something you guys need to know about me.”
Taking a deep breath, I tell them my story.
“Almost six years ago, I was a junior at Tibalt University and was the left winger on the second line for the hockey team. It had been a season where everything aligned perfectly. Our guys led the division in goals, assists, points, save percentage – you name it. It was fucking magical. I was even approached by a few scouts telling me I should put my name in for the NHL draft that year. ”
“You must have been really good,” Toby says with awe in his voice. “Like Gretzky good, right?”
A surprised laugh barks out of my chest at his question.
“Pup, the only player who I would ever place in the same stratosphere as The Great One would be Le Magnifique.”
At the confused glances pointed my way, I elaborate.
“Wayne Gretzky holds most of the scoring records in the NHL from his career and he was given the nickname of The Great One. Now, there’s a lot of arguments about how much of a difference it made with him having the teams he did around him, but the numbers still put him at the top objectively.”
“What about Le Magician?” Toby asks with an inquisitive tilt of his head.
“Le Magnifique is one of the nicknames given to Mario Lemieux of the Pittsburgh Penguins,” I tell him and I see the recognition in his eyes. “He was also nicknamed Super Mario but that’s besides the point. Most of Pittsburgh will tell you that had Lemieux been healthy his whole career, he would have easily surpassed Gretzky, despite having less support from management and a less skilled team surrounding him.”
“I thought it was cuz he had cancer or something?” Shiloh asks before Toby could jump in again and mangle more of hockey history. He really needs to learn this stuff if he plans on sticking around Pittsburgh after graduation. If there’s one thing Pittsburgh knows, it’s their sports history. Well, that and putting fries on everything .
“Hodgkins Lymphoma, yeah,” I tell Shiloh. “He also had horrible back issues so he retired early to fight the cancer and heal up. Then he came back and damn near broke the league with how on fire he was. He didn’t retire for good until he was in his forties, even after buying the team to keep hockey in Pittsburgh. But that time off really messes with people’s heads in this city. Around here, sixty-six will always be better than ninety-nine.”
“Wha…”
“Their jersey numbers,” Shiloh slams his palm over Toby’s mouth and interrupts his next question. “Back to your story, please.”
“So to answer your earlier question, Toby, no – I was not nor ever could possibly be Gretzky good. Professional hockey was never my goal. It was only ever a way to pay for school for me.”
Before Toby could interrupt again, I delve into the details.
At the end of the regular season every year, the team would throw a huge bash at the house of one of our former players. Streaker wasn’t good enough to go pro, but he managed to make a decent living as an investment banker or something like that. He was one of those guys that peaked in college and wanted to re-live his glory days through us, so he bought a house specifically to use for parties.
The house was located in an area where the local cops didn’t have jurisdiction, so it had to be the county who would respond if anyone ever called it in. It was perfect because they kept an old police scanner in the kitchen tuned into the county sheriff’s frequency so we would be able to ditch or hide the booze if it was called in.
“After winning our last home game, we were riding high off our record breaking season. We were setting up the house for the party when this random chick came up and started talking to Rafe, our captain. I heard the details of the discussion since I was close by, but most of the rest of the guys were off in other parts of the house. She offered him five grand to drug some rich boy and toss him in a bedroom for the night.”
“Vad wad bishy Babrina?”
Shiloh laughs and wipes his hand against Toby’s shirt when he pulls it away from his best friend’s mouth. “I guess that won’t work going forward.”
Rolling my eyes, I level the pup with a smirk.
“Yes, it was Sabrina Carlisle,” I tell him. “Rafe took the money and announced to the boys that we had money for more booze and sent me and a couple of the younger guys out to get more for the party. By the time we got back, almost everything was set up and I didn’t think anything of it until shit went wrong.”
Taking a breath to center myself, I lean back and stare at the ceiling. If I’m going to get through this, I can’t be looking at them. This is where they find out how horribly I failed their friend.
This is where I lose them.