Chapter 6
No parties. Okay, I can work with that. Except…
maybe just a little party. First, I need to order, well, everything.
It was fucking depressing to get to the hotel last night and realize that I only had my phone, keys, and the clothes on my back.
The firefighters said anything left in my condo would have too much smoke damage to be used now, and the remediation company will have to see what they can restore.
Luckily, I’m not a sentimental guy, but I hope they can at least fumigate some of my hockey mementos.
Even though Mila’s welcome speech was short and to the point, she did technically give me the green light to explore the main house.
Well, I guess she said “don’t go outside,” but I think they mean the same thing.
I won’t open any doors marked “secret” or anything, but I have to find out the delivery address for this place so I can order some clothes and a new laptop.
She did at least tell me which direction the kitchen was in, so I head that way first, hoping to find something I can munch on for brunch.
I’d be lost almost immediately in the maze-like corridors if not for the voices drawing me to an archway at the end of the hallway. One is familiar, and I stop to observe the scene in front of me.
“You’re almost there, Kirill. You have to flip the pancake just a moment sooner, before it gets too brown. The pan might be a little too hot, I think. Here, let’s try a cool pan and a fresh burner on the stove. That should help.”
Misha, Mila’s huge, strong right-hand man, wears an apron featuring the Swedish Chef on the front while guiding another giant through making the perfect pancake.
It’s as domestic a scene as I’ve ever seen, and after observing Misha’s ferociousness in the training gym when I met him at Teddy’s new estate, it’s nice to see a softer side of him.
He was patient with the men he was training, though, so I’m not surprised to see that he doesn’t even flinch when Kirill immediately burns another pancake.
They’re unlikely to see me from this angle, so I’m about to knock to announce my presence when Misha turns.
“How long are you going to skulk in the doorway, Thatcher Prescott?”
“Uhh. Please just call me Thatch. And how did you know I was here? I wasn’t in your line of sight at all.”
Kirill laughs, and Misha rolls his eyes before pouring a perfect row of pancakes onto a griddle. He says something to Kirill in Russian, and it must have been a dismissal, because he comes to take a seat by me at the kitchen island while Misha cooks.
“If you think I couldn’t hear you barging down the hallway, that’s one thing.
But if you think I don’t know when a man is behind me with my back turned, you do not know me well enough, yet.
I have a feeling that will change soon, though.
Pancakes?” My stomach rumbles in the quiet kitchen, and he chuckles. “I’ll make you a big stack.”
It’s a luxurious space, but lacks charm.
This would be a kitchen I would expect in a hotel or maybe a high-end restaurant, not in a home.
From what I’ve gathered, Mila and Misha haven’t been here long at all.
Before them, it was Teddy’s cousin who lived here, but they’ve moved on to greener pastures, or something.
It seems like a long, convoluted story, and Teddy wasn’t even sure how they were related for a while.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me. Oh God, thank you!” I could kiss Misha as he puts a tall plate of steaming pancakes down in front of me, then does the same for Kirill. There’s chopped strawberries and some whipped cream on the counter, but I go for the classic syrup container.
“I’m usually Mila’s first stop with any news or unexpected occurrences. You, Thatcher Prescott, are an unexpected occurrence.”
I’m in pancake heaven, but still. “Dude, it’s weird that you keep full-naming me. Thatch only, I’m begging you.”
Misha’s making another big batch of pancakes, and as good as these are, he can keep them coming as far as I’m concerned. “What Mila didn’t have time to tell me, though, is why you’re here.”
“Well, uh. It’s a long story. But I don’t like hotels, and I didn’t have anywhere to go.
My, uh, teammates and…friends are all out of town or busy.
So Teddy thought this place would be empty, but now you guys are here.
It’s pretty big, though, so I don’t think I’ll be in the way.
I can stay in a wing out of the way, and you won’t even know I’m here. In fact—”
“It’s fine that you’re here. I was just curious. You’re right. There’s plenty of space. Did someone already take your luggage and show you to a room?”
Misha’s eyes are kind, and I remember how patient he was with Kirill. Maybe he’s the calm to Mila’s crazy. A thought strikes me, and I’m surprised it hasn’t hit me before. I can’t stop myself from ignoring his question and blurting it out.
“Are you and Mila together?”
Kirill chokes on his pancake, but Misha doesn’t even blink. It’s like he’s used to people thinking this, or maybe it’s true. Either way, he’s unfazed.
“No.”
“Oh. You just seem very—”
“Close. We are. More brother and sister. She and I have been together for a long time. But not the way you’re asking.”
“Ah, okay.” He continues to look at me expectantly.
“Oh! The luggage. I don’t have any. Basically, everything I own was smoked up in a fire.
I came here with the clothes on my back, my phone, and my wallet.
That’s it. After the cleanup and fumigation, the companies will finish their work, and we’ll see what I have left.
I was actually going to ask someone about that.
The address for delivery so that I can order a new laptop, clothes, toiletries, etc. ”
Misha regards me for a moment before addressing Kirill. “He looks about Timofey’s size, don’t you think?”
Kirill appraises me before agreeing. “Yeah, roughly the same, I’d say. Maybe a small height difference, but not much.”
Misha’s on the phone in a second, summoning Timofey to the kitchen. Wherever he was must not have been far because I’m barely starting on my second plate of pancakes when he jogs into the kitchen and stands at attention, speaking to Misha in Russian.
He waves him off. “At ease, Timofey. And English for now, please. This is Thatch. He’ll be here for a bit, and he lost all his belongings. You’re about his size. Do you think you have anything you could loan him to wear?”
Ah, man. Now I’m a charity case? This isn’t necessary. “Oh, that’s okay. I can really just order stuff and be fine.”
But Timofey doesn’t look put out at all.
“Certainly. We have duplicates of everything, and since I’ve been here for years, I’ve accumulated plenty of tactical pants and long- and short-sleeve shirts.
I have unopened underthings, too, from our last quarterly warehouse order.
You’re welcome to all of it. And it’s nice to meet you, Thatch. ”
He puts out a huge hand to shake, and I gratefully take it. I wasn’t expecting a stranger to hand over his clothing so readily, but if it’s not an imposition…
“He’ll also need a laptop. You’re in tech ops, right? Do you happen to know if there are any not in use at the moment?”
“I can order a laptop, no problem—”
“I’m sure we have an extra, and if not, we’ll take one from a rookie and wipe it. They spend too much time watching porn anyway.”
Kirill chokes on a pancake again, and Timofey gives him a helpful smack on the back. Misha turns to look at my empty plate and piles more pancakes on it.
“Can you think of anything else you might need?”
Kirill and Timofey look at me expectantly, but I really can’t think of anything else I need. Except…
“I’m going to need to work out. A lot.” The men share a confused glance.
Okay, so not everyone’s a huge hockey fan.
“I’m a professional hockey player. Even though it’s the offseason, my stamina and conditioning can’t take a hit.
” Misha really helped Teddy, so maybe...
“Do you think I can join you again in the training gym? Assuming you’re planning similar stuff here as you did in Florida. ”
At this, Misha fills plates for Kirill and Timofey, then turns off his griddle. “Oh, Thatcher Prescott, of course you’ll be joining us,” he says with a dark smile. “And it’s going to be so much worse.”
Four hours later, I’m flat on my back, sucking wind and trying to remember why it’s important for me to continue living.
At the moment, it seems like if I could just never move from this spot, and take an eternal nap, that would be preferable.
I got a taste when I visited Teddy, and he told me briefly about the horrors of his training, but holy fuck.
I thought I was in great shape, but I was wrong.
I’m not alone on the mat, which makes me feel a tiny bit better.
A few of the rookies are also struggling, and one guy who isn’t new.
His name is Greg, and when I told him that didn’t sound very Russian, he just shrugged.
We were paired for a few of the agility circuits, and it seems he’s going back through training after being off for six months on paternity leave.
Hearing he got leave at all shocked me, but he shrugged again and said, “Taranov Bratva cares about its employees.”
Finally, Simon, a rookie who’s strong but not fast, gets up first and offers me a hand. “Come on, Sunshine. Let’s hit the showers.”
Shit. “Uh. How did you know that’s my nickname?” They all laugh as we wince and hobble toward the locker room.
“You’re the talk of the group chat, man. As soon as we heard you were professional, we had to look you up. You’re pretty good.”
“You’ll be better after you train with us, though.”
“Yeah, your breakaways will be more explosive once you’ve been through Misha’s program.”
“And your hand-eye coordination and peripheral reflexes will get a lot better.”
“That breakaway you couldn’t put in the net against Thunder Bay last year…”
We shower and dress while the guys talk about my hockey career, how the training will help, and how they used to play when they were younger.
All of them have different ideas to help me, and I can’t believe I only met them earlier today.
I’m not sure why they’ve accepted me into the fold so quickly, but it feels damn nice to have a group to hang out with during the offseason.