Page 80 of Hockey Halloween

Karl

Halloween is my favourite holiday.

I get to be someone else for one night. Not that I’m complaining about my life—I’m a forward for the Mustangs, and Monarch College loves their hockey team.

But while I’m a good player, I’m not the team superstar or a gamechanger.

So, Halloween is my chance to play the lead role, to act out my secret fantasies. And tonight’s role is pirate captain.

Putting on eyeliner is a huge fucking challenge.

I’m aiming for Captain Jack Sparrow, but getting Kung Fu Panda instead.

The only thing harder than applying eyeliner is taking it off.

I move to the bathroom to try a warm washcloth and end up getting soap in my eyes.

Great, now my eyes are both red and ringed with black. Too bad I’m not dressed as Darth Maul.

“Hey, Karl, are you ready yet? What are you doing in there?” Bergy pokes his head past the half-open bathroom door. Tyler Bergstrom is my best friend and linemate.

“I don’t know how women do this every day.” I take another swipe at my eyes with the eyeliner. It’s still crooked and one eye is noticeably bigger than the other, but it’s my best attempt so far .

“Maybe you can even things out with an eyepatch?” suggests Bergy.

I fasten on a hoop earring and look in the mirror. Everything looks right except no pirate ever had cropped blond hair. But a wig would be too hot. I put on the felt four-quarter hat to cover up.

“Aye, good enough.”

“What do you think of my costume?” Bergy pirouettes in his firefighter outfit. He’s wearing a dark yellow coat with neon bands, baggy pants, a red helmet—and a bare chest.

“Did you forget your shirt?” I ask.

He grins. “I figured that chicks would be more interested if I went as a sexy fireman.”

Bergy’s a positive guy who always has my back, but his one flaw is his obsession with sex. You’d think that being a varsity hockey player would be enough, but Bergy continually strikes out with women. And I’ve had a front row seat to all his failures.

He takes in my full appearance. “You look great!”

“Thanks.” I worked hard on my pirate costume: oversized white shirt, dark pants, high boots, and even a plastic sword tucked into my sash belt.

“Are the other guys ready to go?” I ask. We live in a hockey house with three other teammates.

“Ethan’s already left. But?—”

Before he can finish, the exasperated voice of our usually relaxed housemate, Roy Matsumoto, rings out. “Fuck this stupid costume.”

Mats’s door swings open. “Do you know anything about Regency clothing?” he asks, clearly frustrated. He’s standing there in a lacy dress shirt and the tightest black satin pants I’ve ever seen.

Bergy whistles. “You ever seen those models that seem to be wearing clothes but it’s just body paint? That’s what your pants look like. I mean, I’ve already seen you naked in the showers, but now everyone can tell you’ve been circumcised.”

“Fucking awesome,” Mats says. “I told Lana that hockey players can’t wear normal-sized costumes—our quads and glutes are just too big. Guess there were no hockey players in the 1800s.” Mats’s girlfriend is both beautiful and bossy.

“What are you supposed to be?” Bergy wonders.

“Some goof from Bridgerton .” Mats sighs and points to the remaining clothing lying on the bed. “This didn’t come with a photo or anything. Guess I shouldn’t have fallen asleep when Lana made me watch the show.”

I walk around Mats. “Yarrgh, those pantaloons are going to split faster than a clipper ship.”

“Well, Captain Morgan, what should I do then?”

I revert to my normal voice. “You’ve got slim black dress pants, right? Or suit pants? We can tuck them into your boots and they’ll look like breeches.” I lift one of the high black boots.

My roommates stare like I’ve sprouted another head.

“How do you know all this shit, Swanny?” Bergy asks.

“In high school, I played Willoughby in Sense and Sensibility .” At their blank faces, I add, “You know, Jane Austen?” Obviously, they’re unfamiliar with the story of two recently impoverished sisters searching for love.

Mats follows my directions and changes into his own pants. As he dresses, he points to the bed. “What’s that white bandage for?”

“That’s your cravat. I’ll tie it up for you.

” I finger the fabric, remembering the costume I wore.

Our first dress rehearsal made the play feel more real, more epic, our English accents suddenly proper rather than silly.

I pull up Mats’s collar, wind the cravat around his throat, and tie it.

I hold out his brocade vest, and he slips his arms in.

“Finally, your tailcoat.” I hold up the black tailored jacket. Lana has a great eye for detail and a big wallet. This costume is much nicer than the homemade ones we had in high school.

“All those layers. You’re going to boil.” Bergy shakes his head.

Mats sighs. “Last year I was a ninja. It took me five minutes to get ready.”

I look enviously at his unruly dark hair—perfect pirate hair. “Maybe put some product in your hair and smooth it back a bit.”

He nods. “Thanks, Swanny. You’re a lifesaver. ”

“Are we ready to go?” Jack Sinclair looms in the doorway, probably because he can’t come in.

He’s wearing an enormous shark costume that takes his height from 6’2” to well over seven feet.

Sinc is obsessed with sharks, so this costume isn’t a huge surprise.

It seems his secret desire is to be a five-year-old.

But I respect the effort; his costume took some serious engineering.

He’s wearing the entire body of a shark with his face emerging from the mouth.

“Aren’t sharks grey? Why are you pale yellow?” Bergy asks. “You look like an unripe banana.”

“I’m a lemon shark,” Sinc explains. “It’s my favourite shark. They’re very social and hang out in groups.”

Nobody asks another question since once Sinc starts talking about sharks, we could be here for hours.

“Let’s get going. The sooner Lana sees me, the sooner I can shed some layers.” Mats is in a much better mood now that I’ve fixed his costume.

We hurry through the chilly Minnesota night to the big frat house where the party is taking place. It’s an annual tradition and one of the biggest blowouts of the year.

“So…all kinds of students will be there, right?” Sinc asks.

“Time to forget that wench, matey,” I reply, getting back into character. Sinc has a crush on some woman that he met a couple of weeks ago. But when he asked her out, she turned him down flat.

Bergy agrees. “Yeah, move on. Like Socrates said, if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”

Mats rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Bergy, those are song lyrics. Also it’s soc-cra-tees not sew-crates .”

Sinc shrugs. Obviously someone who disguises his good looks under a lemon shark costume doesn’t care about attracting the maximum number of women. “It’s tough to find someone you really like.”

Well, I can’t argue with that. I date, but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten serious about anyone.

We arrive at the frat house, which used to be a small hotel when tourists spent summers in the lakeside town of St. Viola.

Luckily a couple of our teammates belong to this fraternity or we might not have even been invited.

If a frat throws a party, they’ve got enough men already. It’s women who are always welcome.

The place is decorated with glowing skeletons, giant cobwebs, and orange string lights. These guys go all out. We survey the packed living room. Apparently, everyone’s not-so-secret desire is to hook up. There are sexy witches, sexy nurses, and even sexy aliens.

Bergy whistles. “So many hot women here. Maybe I can put a few fires.” He plunges into the dancing masses.

Lana appears, looking like a Regency babe with a high wig and a low-cut ballgown. She extends her gloved hand. “My duke has arrived.”

Mats lifts her hand and kisses it. “You look radiant, my lady.”

So fucking smooth. He winks at us as she leads him away. Lana is gorgeous, but I prefer women who are less…princess-y. Sinc and I head over to a bar set up on the other side of the room.

“I don’t see Andy here,” he complains as we make our way across the room to where the drinks are. He’s craning his head around like a lifeguard at a shark-infested beach to find his big crush.

“It’s a vast place, matey. And everyone’s in disguise,” I reply.

He turns to me. “Do you think I’m nuts to keep thinking about someone who has already shot me down?”

“Well...” Sinc’s a good guy, so I don’t want to trample all over his feelings. But hey, he was naked when he met Andy, so if that sight didn’t impress her, what will? “I don’t believe in love at first sight—but you seem to.”

Of course, that’s not quite true. Once upon a time, I was a sucker who didn’t understand that first impressions can be totally wrong.

Our conversation is interrupted by our teammates, who happily greet us and show off their costumes. Our captain, Vik Zelenko, is a vampire. I admire the way he’s gone full-out with pale makeup and scary fangs.

“If you need a blood donor,” offers a woman dressed as a sexy nurse, tilting her neck and ample cleavage towards him. Big Z is very popular with the women .

A hand lands on my shoulder. “Swanny, I need you.”

Bergy is behind me with an excited expression on his face which can only mean one thing—a potential hookup. “I met someone, but she’s got a friend she can’t ditch, so I need a wingman.”

I sigh. Nothing like getting saddled with someone I have zero interest in. “Okay. But you owe me.”

Bergy grins and steers me towards the kitchen. “No way. You’re going to owe me. Her friend is hot —I think so, anyway.”

“How can you not know?” I ask.

He’s busy looking over his shoulder at our captain. “How come Big Z scores all the women?”

“He’s the best player on the team,” I offer, not bothering to mention that he’s also good-looking, charming, and well-dressed. Even his vampire suit looks tailor-made. Then I return to the more important subject. “Is the wench hot or not?”

“Well, she’s got snakes all over her head, so I didn’t look too closely. I fucking hate snakes,” he explains.

“Aye, she’s Medusa.” That’s actually a good sign. A woman who likes Greek mythology is going to be more interesting than another sexy whatever.

Bergy nods. “Yeah, maybe that’s what she said she was. I was too creeped out to pay attention. There they are.” He gestures towards two women. The Medusa one has her back to us, and the blonde is dressed as a warrior princess. She beams at Bergy as we approach.

But there’s something about the tilt of Medusa’s head that strikes me as familiar, and not in a good way. My feet drag, like I’m putting on the brakes. But Bergy shoves me forward.

“Hey ladies, I’m back. And here’s my best friend?—”

The snakes swing out as Medusa turns. Her eyes widen, and her lips part.

“Karl?” she gasps.

“Maya,” I reply flatly.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Bergy says.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I reply. Because Maya Gordon is the one person on the planet that I never wanted to see again.