Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
After such a full day, I want to go to sleep. Sweet Bunny snoozes peacefully in her “big girl bed.” It’s about four feet away from mine, so she’ll surely crawl in with me before the night is over.
Living in my parents’ basement isn’t the worst. Dad set to work finishing off an area for us. We have a bedroom, a living area, and a bathroom on this level. Plus, the washer and dryer are under the stairs which means I don’t have to carry the basket up and down.
But there is the utility closet, the furnace which makes a racket, and musty corners and junk that my parents keep saying they’re going to clear out.
It’s not where I expected to be at twenty-six and it’s nothing like the condo I had in Los Angeles with a balcony, modern kitchen cabinets, and a plush carpet that was like walking on a cloud.
My gig as the social media manager and Ice Kitty for the Lions paid well and I had a following on the side, which afforded me influencer status. Granted, it was in my own little sphere of the internet, but it paid the bills and then some.
Then everything happened with Trey and it all came crashing down.
What Grady said about expectations comes to mind. I hate to say it, but he was right. The conflict inside of me comes from the tension between what I expected from life and what I got.
Bunny makes a little noise and turns over.
Yeah, what I got was pretty good.
But still, I’m in the basement. Working multiple jobs. Raising a child by myself.
That was not the life plan.
My phone, slack in my hand, vibrates. I’ve gleaned that about seven karaoke videos are going around, all shot from different angles of Grady and me singing. They’re making the social media rounds with people re-sharing them and tagging me.
I wasn’t anticipating making a big comeback to the online space and if I had, it certainly wouldn’t have looked like this.
I watch it again and there’s no denying that Grady and I were having fun, albeit in our own rosy-colored, rainbow, unicorn little world up there on the stage.
From an optics standpoint, Trey Dillard’s ex smiling at his former best friend like that isn’t a good look. Not that it’s common knowledge that Trey and Grady were buddies. But they are opponents which comes with its own issues.
Already, in the comments, there is speculation about whether I’m doing all of this for attention.
When I woke up this morning, I did not tell myself that I wanted to sing karaoke, no less with Grady. If someone had predicted that would be part of my future, I’d have laughed in their face.
In the video from the Fish Bowl, I am laughing . . . and smiling, which was part of the bet. By the time the second refrain of ABBA’s hit rolled around, I’d let go and was having a great time. Grady and I even somehow synced up some moves with our arms during a few of the lyrics.
Yes, I’m contributing to the view count by watching the video over and over.
There’s a moment when he smiles at me, eyes sparkling. I pause the video and study his expression. It’s like a snapshot from my parents’ wedding album. Every year, on their anniversary, they look through it together. If Mom lags on putting it away, I flip through.
They were so young . I mean practically babies. Younger than me and Grady when they got hitched.
The classic high school sweetheart story.
They’ve both said, “Sometimes you just know.”
I bring the photograph to mind as clearly as I can. I’ve never been super romantic. I like flowers and chocolates, attention and affection as much as the next gal, but what I really always wanted was for a guy to gaze at me the way Dad looked at his bride on their wedding day. It’s pure adoration and practically jumps off the page.
None of the boyfriends I had in high school or college came close.
Certainly not Trey.
Maybe until now.
I turn my phone off, but it nudges me again with a notification. I should change the settings. The vibration is pretty steady which means something is blowing up, so I check one more time.
Then I’m going to sleep.
Promise.
It’s official. Grady and my karaoke performance has gone viral. People are doing “reaction” videos and are already setting or remixing ABBA’s “Take a Chance on Me” to reels.
I glean that its popularity isn’t because we’re especially great singers, though we do harmonize. Nor is it because it features an NHL player, though that helps. A few haters comment about me and others are “happy” to see that I’m “back.”
I was a major brat in high school and some corners of the internet are as cliquey and two-faced as the likes of Sophia, me, and our crew were back in the day. But Grady was the one who was supposed to have the “Comeback Campaign” though I still don’t quite know why.
Overall, the commentary given is about the “look” Grady and I share. They say it’s a whole lotta eye flirting, the look of love. People are calling it the lovey-dovey look, though I don’t think that’ll catch on. It’s too clumsy to say. Then again, it works fine as a trending hashtag.
I find his account and am about to tell him to ignore what everyone is saying about “The Look.” I was not looking at him any which way. He dragged me up there.
But I was smiling.
I did have fun.
My little sleeping bunny muffin bundle deserves to have a mom who smiles and has fun. Not the kind of fun that’ll come between mothering her, but all of my responsibilities have dragged me into the mire. Each day is a race to the finish line, sometimes to survive.
I’m grateful for all the help, but it’s a lot. Any single parent would agree because not only do we have to deal with the logistics, but there are hidden emotional costs at times. It’s not to say that dual-parent households do anything better. It’s just that sometimes I want to sigh into someone’s arms and have them hold me up for a second. To ask if I’m overreacting to the little bump on Bunny’s ankle. To exchange a knowing glance with when we’re in the trenches.
And a smile.
Perhaps even a lovey-dovey look.
Maybe an after-work kiss that melts away the stress and reminds me that everything is okay.
Instead of refuting someone’s verbose comment on the karaoke video and telling Grady that my expression wasn’t “Sparkling with unfettered attraction, devotion, and awakening longing in even the most hard-hearted,” I send a different message. He probably won’t get it, but maybe once I get this off my chest, I’ll be able to sleep.
Me: Thanks for winning the bet. I had fun doing karaoke with you.
I’m about to turn off my phone when the little dots blink indicating he’s typing. That’s a surprise, considering the guy is a veritable ghost online. Sure, there are loads of photos of him from games and a few fan accounts, but his digital footprint is basically non-existent, except for what very well looks like the abandoned account I just messaged.
Grady: Me too.
Well, that was dry. I mean, it’s a fine response, but I’ve studied social media communication and that’s a dead-end reply. Okay then.
I’m about to truly power off for the night when he messages again.
Grady: I could quit hockey and we could take our band on the road.
Me: Our band?
Grady: The Heidi and Grady Duo. Instead of ABBA, they’d call us THGD. We’d be famous.
Me: Do we want to be famous?
I give myself pause for two reasons. I used the word we . In no world is there a we for Grady and me. Never mind that he’s my brother’s best friend and a hockey player, I’ve been down that road, and from now on it’s just me .
Also, given the fact that it doesn’t look like he’s updated his account in years—the last photo is of him emerging from the tunnel and onto the ice early on during his time with Pittsburg Generals—maybe he was hacked and I’m talking with some wacko.
Grady: On second thought, no. I just want to play hockey and go to karaoke next week with you.
Like the lyrics in ABBA’s, song does he want to “...take a chance on me?”
Me: Nice try. I don’t usually work nights.
Grady: Maybe we could go to the Fish Bowl, anyway.
I’m about to tell him I prefer not to go to my place of employment during my time off when all the internet safety workshops I’ve taken come to mind.
Me: If this is Grady, prove it .
He sends me a photo of his face, filling the screen. The faint flecks of gold in his green eyes aren’t as bright as they are in person, but disorient me for a second.
The slight smirk on his lips makes me want to kiss him. But he hasn’t shaved, though the stubble is hot in a rugged way. I fan myself.
Me: You could’ve screenshotted that from #GradyFederer
Grady: No, that’s me. Right now. If you don’t believe me, how do you propose I prove it?
I think about this for all of one second.
Me: Tell me something only you and I would know.
The little dots blink for a long time. Like at least two minutes. I wonder if he’s scouring the internet for dirt and contriving a story. If that’s the case, I’ll be sure to tell the real Grady someone is impersonating him.
Unless he typed something and thought better about sending it. Something that might highlight why we were looking at each other the way we were on that karaoke stage. Like the secret kisses. I swallow thickly as the message appears. It’s a list. A long list.
Grady: The woman asks for a list. She gets a list. Here goes:
-That your mom taught Derek how to braid your hair.
-In fifth grade, you wanted to be Miss America and made Derek, Trey, and me parade you around on your mother’s sun chair like you were a princess and we were your porters, marching in a parade.
-You got braces in seventh grade and were miserable for a full two years.
-Your brother locked you out of the bathroom before your eighth-grade dance and then he climbed out the window, making you late.
-You’ve always looked adorable in that pink hat your gran knit for you.
-You’re a talented skater.
-That you love people even though you can sometimes be a brat.
-During the ride back from the Ice Palace, you looked mad and sad.
-That Bunny loves to play Buckaroo
. . . and you’re an amazing mom.
-That your smile lights up a room.
-I want to see more of it.
-And that kissing you is even more fun than karaoke.
I’m not sure what to make of all that, especially the last few parts. Does he want to see more of my smile? In general or?—?
I’d forgotten about the Miss America princess parade.
He thinks I’m adorable in the pink hat?
If anyone asks, I was mad my car broke down and that it had to be my brother’s hockey-playing best friend to come to my aid.
He claims I’m an amazing mom?
Grady: Shall I continue? Do you want further proof of identity?
Me: That suffices.
Grady: I’m not sure whether Badaszek will accept the video as part of my social media comeback campaign for daily video diaries and engaging posts.
Me: It is a video and it’s getting pretty much the most engagement on the internet at the moment, vying for the top spot with Mr. Tinkles, the cat, and his top hat.
Grady: Thanks to you.
Me: How do you figure that?
Grady: I don’t think anyone would’ve cared if it were me singing up there alone.
Me: Are you kidding me? Fans love seeing hockey players do things that aren’t hockey.
Grady: Like doing life stuff?
Me: Fun stuff.
Grady: Examples?
I send him the link to the Los Angeles Lions account. I’m not going to brag (okay, I am), but I was a better social media manager than Kimber, who they have now. The numbers speak for themselves. The Lions’ aesthetic was very LA with beautiful people doing things in beautiful places. From a production standpoint, the Lions’ content was slick and sleek. A bit edgy .
A few other teams have taken cues from what I did for the Lions. The Rhode Island Royals make everything very polished for their “Ice Princess” performances. The Saskatchewan Squatches, an AHL team, are a bit goofy, don’t take themselves too seriously, and their fan base goes gaga over it, especially the “Sasquatch” sightings in the stands.
Grady: Wow. Impressive. The routines you did on the ice were doubly so. You looked good.
I’m not sure what to make of that. Good as in my technique or something else? The little electric butterfly flutters in my stomach say otherwise. Or I’ve just been on my device for too long, which has me buzzy. I really should go to sleep.
Grady: If I’m watching hockey, it’s game highlights, but I can see why the fans like this so much. How’d you get into it?
Me: Since you asked… Between my dad, brother, and uncle, I’ve been around the Knights my entire life, though I’m not a super fan.
Grady: You did the social media posts and videos along with performing?
When I graduated college, I moved to Los Angeles and my roommate’s boyfriend was an NHL hopeful. We started attending games, became so-called puck bunnies, and created content for the team because it was fun.
When her boyfriend was drafted, they moved to Colorado. But I didn’t stop. Eventually, management reached out and asked if I’d join the “team” as their social media manager. The rest is history.
Me: It was a full-time gig and paid well, though I didn’t have to travel with the team so that freed up time for content creation and choreography and practice with the girls.
Originally, we were on the ice for five minutes, but we cut it down to less than three because although the live audience loved it, what got things rolling was when the videos went on social.
The shorter. The showier. The clickier.
Grady: You really know your stuff.
Me: Thanks. It was a lot of fun.
Grady: As I’ve been saying about fun . . . I think we both need more of it in our lives.
Me: I’ll get back to you on that in about eighteen years.
Grady: You mean when Bunny is grown up?
Yeah. I have to focus on providing her with a drama-free life. That does not include flirting with my brother’s hockey-playing best friend.
Wait. Is that what we’re doing? Definitely not.
I read a notification that comes in. It’s a girl I knew in Los Angeles and she comments on the whole eye flirting thing. Pfft.
It looks like people are already “Shipping” our names, debating between Graidi and Federice—though they already kind of go together.
Grady: So, do you want to help me with the social media stuff? As your brother said, I’ll pay you.
Me: I’m still thinking about it.
Grady: If you’re worried about having a Lions/Trey repeat, don’t be.
Me: That’s easy for you to say. Let’s see, there’s a pattern here...
Grady: He hurt you. That’s some major suckage. I hate him for that. He lost you, Bunny, plus two friends.
Me: Thanks for being in my corner.
Grady: Always
A long sigh escapes from the deepest depths of my chest. There are people in this world who will tell you what you need to hear and people who will tell you what you want to hear.
Then there’s Grady. He just did both.
My family loves me and apparently, Derek would nearly kill for me, but in the aftermath of everything with Trey, I definitely have felt alone. Girls I thought were friends opted to side with the hot hockey player. I was suddenly radioactive. Then again, Grady isn’t a stranger to scandal even though I don’t really know the story.
Grady: Hey, if I were there right now, I’d give you a hug.
I’d give him one back. But I leave the rest of the message unopened, turn over, and don’t fall asleep as my mind whirs in a way that it hasn’t in over twenty-three months.