Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Bobby
“How’s that new asshole working out for you?” Benny–otherwise known as our first-line center Banks Bennet–asks, flopping down on the bench next to me with his skates in hand. He’s one of the senior players on our team, a fact I bring up as much as humanly possible.
I give him my best scathing look, when what I want to do is punch something. Coach has been riding me hard since our chat about straightening up my shit, though I didn’t think anyone else noticed.
“The ladies seem to like it,” I quip. Benny doesn’t smile.
“Kaitlyn says she has a plan for you.” He looks out at the ice where Chloe is setting up brightly colored cones before her rec league practice starts. He’s engaged to my agent, Kaitlyn, which probably means she’s filled him in on the gory details of my ass chewing from Coach. “She’s tough as nails, but I can speak from experience: her plans work. If you give her shit and make her go into labor, I swear your new asshole will be the least of your problems.”
I put my hand up in the scout’s honor salute, but we all know I’ve never been a Boy Scout. I’m just not promising anything until I hear this plan of hers. I want to clean up my act and keep my spot on the team, but I also know my limitations. Benny laces up his skates and heads off to the ice without another word.
Chloe didn't ask for my help with her practice today, but I have a meeting scheduled with Kaitlyn at six. Practice got out at three and since I can’t go to a bar to pass the time like I normally would, I might as well help out the youth of America. Hopefully Coach looks out his window and sees me doing a good deed. Kids start streaming in and the volume inside the rink goes way up. Benny’s Little from the Big Brothers program, Eli, comes swaggering in with another boy hot on his heels. I perk up, realizing the other boy is the kid spawned from that hot mom I always notice.
At that exact moment, Chloe skates by and snaps at me. “You gonna help, or sit and pout all day?”
Since children are present, I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from flipping her off. Did I say we’re friends? I lied. She’s dead to me. Which isn’t true, because I get my ass off the bench and skate out onto the ice to help her, telling myself it's for the kids and bolstering my reputation. Eli and the other kid come whizzing past me, warming up on the side of the rink I’m on, which is where the older kids practice.
I holler at a tall redhead to get off the ice and tie her skates properly before she maims herself. I know Chloe covered proper lacing on day one. There’s no excuse for sloppy equipment in a game where razor blades are strapped to the bottoms of your feet. Eli whizzes by me again, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth like he’s the Michael Jordan of hockey. The kid behind him tries to keep up, but hits a rough patch of ice left over from our practice. His arms pinwheel and his eyes go wide in panic. I push off my right foot and get to his side just as he regains his balance.
Unfortunately, his pants don’t escape mishap. They drop, showing a pair of bright blue underwear that I could swear have Spongebob printed on the front. I don’t waste time gawking. I just reach over, yank the pants back up, and pat him on the shoulder like we’re having a chat.
“Easy there, killer. Gotta watch out for those divots. They’ll take you out every time.” I give him a stern nod, hoping I didn’t give him a wedgie in my hurry to save him from social ruin.
Eyes still wide, he turns the color of a tomato as he stares at me in horror.
I lean in. “Hey, nobody saw anything, man. You’re good. Right? You’re good?”
His barely-there Adam's apple bobs in his skinny throat, but he seems to collect himself. “Yeah.” His voice cracks so he clears it and tries again. “Thanks.”
I pat him on the shoulder some more. “Any time. Did you ever hear about the time some ass–butthole–from the Gliders pulled my pants down during warmups? He claims it was an accident, but the fu–fudger knew what he was doing. I hadn’t laced up tight yet because we were just stretching.” I shake my head when his freckled nose wrinkles and he laughs. “I got him back, though, by taking his mom to dinner that weekend and making sure the paparazzi took pictures.”
The kid’s jaw drops. “Dude. That’s epic.”
I shrug. “I probably should have let it go, but sometimes you have to pay people back when they’re rude.”
He nods sagely. “I get that.”
Chloe’s whistle breaks up our conversation and the kids skate off to form a circle for warm-ups. I stay to help out, actually enjoying myself with the kids and forgetting to even check if Coach sees me out here. Parents arrive before I realize that much time has passed, signaling the end of practice.
One particular mom with auburn hair in a slicked back ponytail and the hottest pencil skirt I’ve ever seen catches my attention like she always does. I pretend to concern myself with collecting cones over where the mom is waiting for her son. She’s biting her bottom lip and scrolling on her phone when I get close. I can’t see her screen, but that doesn’t stop me from using it as an opening.
“No need to scroll. Just swipe right on me.”
Her head whips up and her teeth let go of her lip. I shoot her a wink, then notice how beautiful her wide eyes are. Stunning, actually. They’re hazel, with a green ring close to her pupil and an unusual golden brown everywhere else. We stand there for a few moments, both of us mute and staring. Then her cheeks stain as red as her son’s and she snaps her mouth shut.
“I...I wasn’t–you know.” She shakes her head. “Okay, bye.” She turns, her ponytail swinging around and almost hitting me in the face. I watch her go, too preoccupied with watching those full hips swing as she marches off to notice that Chloe is also watching this interaction. She sprays ice up on my pants as she abruptly stops in front of me.
“Not one of my moms, Bobby,” she warns, finger in my face.
I throw my hands in the air in a gesture of peace. “I was just being friendly.”
Chloe narrows her eyes. “Uh huh. Your definition of friendly varies widely from mine.”
I give her my best innocent aw shucks grin, the one that worked on my mother every single time us boys got in trouble. Apparently, I’ve still got it because Chloe relents and doesn’t say another word as we exit the rink and take our skates off.
I don’t bother changing to meet up with Kaitlyn at a casual restaurant just off the beaten path in downtown Tampa. She’s due any day now with her and Benny’s first child and she said she wanted spicy Thai food to hurry things along. I don’t know what that means and I don’t want to find out. The way a woman’s body can make a baby is nothing short of a miracle, but I don’t want to see the inner workings up close and personal as she brings that life into this world.
Kaitlyn’s already seated at a table when I get there. She’s sitting sideways, her swollen feet in flip flops and propped up on another chair. One hand rubs her massive belly, and the other hand is shoveling a spring roll in her mouth. She chews and gestures for me to come over. I do, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder and pulling out a chair opposite her.
“Am I late? I could have sworn you said six.” I place a napkin on my lap.
She swallows and then takes a big gulp of water before speaking. “Nope! Right on time. I just got hungry. I swear, this baby better come soon, or I won’t have enough room for food.”
She shoves another spring roll in her mouth, taking an obnoxiously large bite and chewing like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. I grimace. It’s like being live at the filming of a mukbang video with the sounds that are coming out of her mouth. Are all pregnant women like this? Or is this just Kaitlyn?
“Benny says you have a plan for me?” I try to get her on task before I lose my appetite completely.
She nods and holds up a finger while still managing to maintain a grasp on what’s left of the poor spring roll. Her other hand points to her oversized bag sitting on the floor next to her. At first, I thought she was using this pregnancy to command men to do her bidding. Now that she’s further along, I see that she really can’t bend over to reach things. I rummage around and pull out a stack of papers.
“Just the top one,” she says around the food. I put the rest back and hold the top sheet between us. It’s a list in Kaitlyn’s handwriting. “Listen, you’ve screwed up one too many times with the new coach. Everyone is well aware you're the enforcer–for now–but save the fighting for the opponents who deserve it. You can't get in scuffles with your own teammates or pick fights with rookies like last season. I got a text today that Marsh has been entertaining the possibility of trading you.”
My heart dips down into my stomach. Fuck. I can’t change teams again. I finally have a team that wants me long term. Or at least I thought they did. I like the guys I play with. Hell, despite the crazy drivers, I like Tampa. I know new coaches like to make a huge splash as the new boss, flexing their muscles and laying down the law, but this is ridiculous.
“Relax, we’re not going to let that happen. Hence my list.” She motions for me to read it aloud while she eats the other half of the roll.
“Buy a home. Steady girlfriend/no bunnies. No alcohol binges/no bars. Get involved in a charity in Tampa. Stop dressing like a YouTube influencer trying to get girls. Take anger management classes. Eat vegetables daily.”
I throw the paper back down on the table, managing humor like usual even though I feel like my world is imploding. “Daily vegetables? That’s where I draw the line, woman.”
It’s actually the least offensive thing on the list. Despite my constant teasing and acting up, I eat plenty of healthy food. It’s just everything else that sounds like a boring midlife for other people, not me. Might as well start driving a minivan and wearing sandals with socks. And not even fun socks. Stupid big boy socks to go with my big boy underwear.
Kaitlyn must hear the defiance in my tone because she finally wipes off her fingers on the cloth napkin and ignores the food. “Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but it worked for Banks. It’ll work for you too. I promise.” She motions to her bag again, and following directions, I snag a business card out of the outside pocket. “Start by calling my friend Coco. She helped Banks and me buy our house. She’s an older woman, you’ll love her.”
I give her a flat look, not appreciating my agent giving me shit for my proclivity for older women.
The server interrupts with two steaming bowls of veggies in a broth of some sort before Kaitlyn can keep going on everything I have to do on top of playing incredible hockey. “Jungle curry, extra spicy.” The woman grimaces and then bows her head before leaving, like she just said a prayer we’ll survive the meal.
Kaitlyn wears a maniacal look as she dips a spoon in her bowl. “Eat up, Bobby. Hope you don’t mind spicy.”
She slurps up the veggies and immediately pants like a dog. I tentatively let a trickle of the broth enter my mouth and instantly regret it. Fire so hot it feels cold floods my mouth. I grab for my water and drain it in one gulp, looking around wildly for a refill. I wag my tongue outside my mouth, hoping to catch a cool draft of air somewhere. Kaitlyn’s full-on sweating. Or maybe she’s crying, I can’t really tell. What the fuck is this jungle curry? I push my bowl away, scared straight. My sinuses are so clear I can smell Richie’s stinky socks he left at my apartment the other night all the way from here. I’ll do whatever’s on that list, but I’m not eating any more of that shit.
“Oh god,” Kaitlyn moans.
I have to wipe a bead of sweat off my brow before it drips into my eyes. “Yeah, no shit. That’s ridiculously hot.”
“No, I mean, oh god, I think my water just broke.”
I shove away from the table and leap to my feet. She’s not wrong. It looks like she just peed herself.
“Oh, fuck me. Benny’s gonna kill me.”
Kaitlyn looks up at me with wide eyes. “Forget Banks! I’m gonna kill you if you don’t get me to the hospital!”