Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
JAMIE
I wouldn't say that the rest of the first week of camp was great, per se, but it was better, which is more than I had expected.
There were some small improvements; Lindholm started searching me out at lunch and Finn and I had dinner together a couple of times.
He was painfully young, but it was good to have the company.
But most importantly, Ethan Tremblay finally started connecting on passes to me. I wouldn't say he had necessarily warmed up, but he could now bring himself to look in my direction long enough to send me the puck.
As a result, we were finally putting together something that looked like an offense on the ice.
We still had plenty of work to do, but it felt like I was finally able to show off some of the skills that had gotten me drafted.
The real test would come in the preseason games, where we would show whether the on-ice chemistry converted to in-game scoring.
I had talked to my mom and Avery each a couple of times. With Avery, it was mostly a quick exchange of news and a decision of which game to play together that night. His second scan had come back and the doctors were a little more optimistic, finally allowing him back on the ice.
My mom continued to call almost every day.
I think we were both feeling the distance more than we had anticipated.
On our last phone call, she had even mentioned how much happier I was sounding.
She’d been right about scheduling a time with Jeff; I’d finally gotten around to it and the conversation had helped more than I expected.
For the first time since moving to Minneapolis, I was really enjoying hockey again. I knew that might change with the coming of preseason and, before long, decisions about the roster. But for now, I was feeling like I wasn't necessarily in the wrong place.
She had also reminded me of my upcoming birthday.
Somehow, it was right around the corner and I hadn't even realized it.
She'd suggested taking the guys out for a celebratory drink, and I struggled to explain to her that nothing felt settled enough to celebrate – not with the end of camp and roster cuts right around the corner.
Besides, I had yet to explain to her the frosty reception I'd received from the team. The fact of the matter was I wasn't really sure they'd come if I invited them; it was best not to risk it.
The next day after practice, Coach asked Tremblay, Kovy, and me to take some questions from the press. The last time I had done this had resulted in Tremblay's outburst in the locker room; I hoped today would go smoother.
Generally, the questions were less invasive this time – apparently the reporters had been put off by the relatively bland answers I had practiced with the Huskies' PR team. Instead, I mostly had questions about how it was to be in the big leagues and whether I was worried about pre-season.
Until, that is, one of the local reporters raised his hand.
“Jamie, I was going through our briefing info and I couldn't help but notice your birthday is tomorrow. Got any plans with the team?”
My eyes go wide. I know that stuff is publicly available – hell, they can look up my height, weight, and injury status at any given moment. But still, I'm surprised to be asked the question.
Based on the look I get from Alexei, he's surprised too.
“I've been mostly focused on getting ready for the preseason. Hazard of a late September birthday, I guess.”
I was hopeful this would be enough, but apparently not.
“No plans to go out on the town with the team, then?”
This is a hard one to answer. On the one hand, if we publicly go out drinking and lose in the preseason, the press will roast us. On the other hand, if I'm not celebrating my birthday with the team, that gives them a chance to wonder whether my sexuality is distancing me from the team.
Luckily, I don't have to decide which way to go – Alexei answers before I can.
“Gerry! I told you not to give away the surprise!” he says, winking broadly. The reporters snicker around the room. “Besides! The last time I told you where we were celebrating, your paper ran a very unflattering picture of me. This time? Is secret.”
It's ridiculous, but it works. We are able to wrap up the press conference without any further hiccups.
On our way out of the press room, Alexei catches me.
“Is right? Is your birthday tomorrow?”
He looks concerned, more than anything.
“Um, yeah. It's my birthday. But I really don't need to do anything – preseason is about to start.”
“We have early end to practice tomorrow already, and no game day after. Will be fine.”
Behind him, Tremblay looks worried.
“Are you sure? I'd hate for us to be out celebrating and have the press use it against us in the preseason. You know, celebrating too early or whatever.”
In Tremblay's eyes, I see a glimmer of...respect?
“You leave it to me. I am, how you say, cruise director on this team. Should be Captain, but Ethan isn't exactly social butterfly, da?”
Tremblay blushes behind him. It is, unfortunately, a very good look on him.
“If you insist.”
“I do. After practice, tomorrow. I'll get the place and invite the boys. Ethan, you will come too.”
“I'll, uh, check my schedule.”
The Ice King is back, pulled even tighter than before. But Alexei doesn’t allow it.
“Ethan, your schedule is free.”
“Um, yeah, I think it is.”
That night, I get a group text.
Alexei
Everyone! Tomorrow after practice we will be celebrating the birth of Jamie Carter. I am getting a bus from the arena to the bar. Deal with your rides accordingly.
The dress code is “hot as fuck”, please dress accordingly.
Also, Ethan is buying the first round
Ethan
I am?
I am!
I wonder at Tremblay’s change of mind between his last two texts. Was it a typo? Or did Alexei text him individually?
I go through my suitcase, looking for something nice enough to go clubbing in but tame enough to not stir up headlines.
Tremblay would be so proud of me. I end up with a tighter-than-normal pair of jeans, a green button up, and a black tank to go underneath.
Putting it all in my duffle, I dial Avery’s number, hopeful he’s got time for a few rounds of Mario Kart..
Practice the next day goes late, likely due to the rare day off the next day. We grab food from the dining facilities before getting our clubbing best on.
The range of attire is wild — MacKenzie looks like a Southern frat boy in a pair of Nantucket red shorts and a mint green polo, while Gagnon is showing off his tattoos in a white tank top.
Frankly, both are following Alexei’s dress code to a tee.
The man himself is wearing a tight black shirt with black jeans that appear to have been painted on.
Even Finn’s got a nice Henley moment going on.
The only person who seems to have struck out with his outfit is Tremblay. He pulls out a pair of pleated black dress pants and a button-down, white collared shirt. If I didn’t know any better, he could be an accountant. Hell, with the pleats on those pants, he could be my grandpa’s accountant.
We pile into the party bus Alexei has procured. He’s assured us that the club is 18+, meaning Finn can come with us, too. When we get there, it’s still a little early for the dancing crowd, but we’re able to head to the VIP area and get settled in.
In a nod to concerns about the optics of being out celebrating before a single preseason game has been won, Alexei has secured us the entire VIP area for the night. As we settle in, he speaks briefly to a server, who quickly comes back with a tray of shots.
“Boys, thank you for coming here tonight. We are here to celebrate the birth of Jamie Carter, without whom my ability to get shutouts would once again be useless. Please join me in thanking him for gracing our town and our team with his presence.”
He holds up a shot glass, saying “To Jamie!” before downing it in one.
Around me, others join in with their own shots and congratulations. Against my better judgment, I down one myself, feeling the fire burn down my throat.
“Who wants to go dance?” Alexei yells over the booming bass coming from downstairs.
Together, a small group of us head to the dance floor.
The group had decided this would be a boys-only night, so the married guys mostly hang back, avoiding the various women eyeing them up.
The one exception seems to be Johnny Mackenzie, Tremblay’s defensive partner.
While he’s not married, his girlfriend has been with him since the AHL and is one of the more prominent WAGs in Minneapolis.
When he gets to the dancefloor, though, his eyes don’t seem to be on the women at all.
Instead, he closes his eyes and moves along to the music with surprising grace for a man of his size.
Alexei, too, seems to be no stranger to the dance floor, although he does seem drawn to the women around us — several of them, in fact.
As I start to move with the music, I glance back up to where the rest of the team sits.
There, elbows perched on the railing, stands Tremblay, staring down at us.
No, at me. He’s staring at me.
And for once this week, the look on his face isn’t one of disgust or concern. It’s one of…interest?
Before I can work out his motivation, he leaves the railing to grab another shot.
I continue dancing, with a few other guys joining us.
Finn looks exactly as you’d expect of a kid at his first grownup bar — eager, enthusiastic, and entirely out of his depth.
Eventually, the dancefloor fills up and the heat becomes overwhelming.
Making my excuses, I head back to the VIP room, which is empty aside from Sutter and Matthews over in the corner, debating the relative merits of the various Fast and the Furious movies.
As I head to the bathroom, I feel a breeze blowing and follow it down the hallway. After a quick right, I see what appears to be an emergency exit, propped open by a chair. Outside, I see the shadow of Ethan Tremblay silhouetted against the night sky.
“You okay, Captain?”
He jumps a bit and turns as I emerge onto the fire escape. I can smell the faint aroma of whiskey on him as I stand nearby.
“Um. Yeah. Definitely.”
Well, that’s certainly convincing.
“How’d you get this open without setting off the alarm?”
He looks back at the door, almost as though he had forgotten about it.
“Oh. The waitress. Told her I needed a smoke, she helped me out.”
“You smoke?” Given how concerned the man is with optics, I’m surprised to hear it.
“Fuck, no. Can you imagine still skating at my age with lungs like that? I just needed some…quiet.”
I stand next to him at the railing and look at the city.
“Was this…ok? For your birthday?”
A look at him, a question in my eyes.
“Um, yeah? I didn’t really expect anything.”
“That’s fair, we haven’t…I haven’t exactly welcomed you. To the team.”
His speech is stilted, and I wonder how many shots he ended up having.
“I…appreciate you recognizing that. And it’s been…better. Hasn’t it?”
He still looks off at the city skyline, and dark quietly surrounds us for a few moments
“I’m not homophobic, you know.”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out.
“Uh, yeah, Cap. Sure. You’re not homophobic, you just want me to be less gay.”
He huffs a little laugh at me, saying “Join the club.”
Again, I think about how intoxicated he might be, as his answer doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.
“Alexei thought we should do this at a gay club. Would that have been better?”
Again, the laughter bursts out of me.
“Oh, fuck no. I know you think I’m all about the press, but I truly do not want to spend the entire preseason reading in The Neutral Zone about how I’m working my way through the Huskies one by one.”
This time, he giggles — definitely drunk.
“I can see the headlines now. Huskies Caught Grinding - And Not Just on the Ice.”
“Huskies Off to a Flaming Start.”
“Huskies Scoring More Off the Ice than On It.”
We’re both laughing now, and for a second I feel like we’re sharing something important.
“I promise, Cap. You won’t see me in the tabloids if I can help it. Haven’t had a boyfriend in five years, and I’m sure as shit not gonna start my rookie season.”
He presses his lips together, a skeptical look on his face.
“So you, what, hook up?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
He shrugs. Honestly, a lack of decent sex would explain his terrible attitude.
“Sure. But this is a hockey town. You gotta be careful of the who and when, you know? Otherwise your ass will be on the front page of The Neutral Zone before you know it. Literally.”
This was something I hadn’t taken into account when drafted to Minnesota. Los Angeles was definitely not a hockey town, and UCLA hadn’t been a hockey school – at least, not until recently. As much as I’d thought the press were invasive there, it’s been a whole new level of attention here.
“You’re not wrong. First and foremost, I try to keep my love life away from the media — except for the fact that they ask about it constantly.”
He looks at me for a moment, and it seems like every drunken wheel in his brain is spinning at once.
“I guess that would be hard, huh? You date someone and it’s automatically news.”
“Yup. It sucks, but it’s what I signed on for, apparently.”
He seems to have an idea.
“You know what you should do?”
I’m amused at the fact that my more-than-slightly homophobic captain appears to be giving me dating advice. Still, I’m game to hear his thoughts.
“What should I do, Cap?”
“You should find another athlete. Get something going on the down-low.”
Honestly, it’s not the worst idea, with the threat of mutually assured destruction keeping us both safe. Hell, at one point in my life, it had sort of been my long-term game plan.
“Oh yeah? You know a closeted basketball player you wanna introduce me to?”
“Is that, uh, your type? Tall?”
Again, I wonder if I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. Who’d have thought Ethan Tremblay would be asking me my type?
“Honestly, I’m starting to think I can’t be picky. I haven’t gotten laid since Los Angeles.”
He bites his lower lip.
“Wait…do you actually know a guy? If so, hook me up.”
He stares at me for a long moment, the smell of bourbon hanging in the air between us. It looks like he’s trying to come to a decision – whether to trust me with his buddy’s name?
Then, before I know what’s happening, he’s in my space, his lips on mine. For a second I enjoy their lingering warmth before I think about what’s happening and pull away.
What just happened? Did my homophobic captain just…kiss me? Proposition me?
“Jesus, Tremblay. What the fuck was that?”
At this, he quickly sobers up.
“That…was nothing. It didn’t happen.”
And with that, he’s gone.