Page 9
Arden
Do I mind traveling with the boys?
No.
Do I mind having to do it more this season in order to stalk Tanner for this stupid contest my family’s company is sponsoring?
More no than yes.
Do I mind having to have major life discussions via my fucking Bluetooth hearing aid in the lobby of The Frost Luxury Hotel because my mom refuses to postpone this conversation until a more convenient for me time?
Fuck. Yes.
If only I were my twin.
Maybe then what I want would matter.
“Mom-”
“ Don’t you dare ‘Mom’ me, Arden Grace ,” hisses the woman notorious for being the less fun parent. “ You are the one being ridiculous right now.”
“Worst pre-game prep-talk ever.” I bump fists with Potato during his stroll by to the charter bus that’s parked out front of the hotel we’re in for the night. “We’re talking even worse than the one you gave me when I volunteered to help Dad arrange a charity hockey tournament to help fund the building of a new rec center in a low-income area.”
“I was trying to save you the stress that comes from working with your dad.”
“By insisting I didn’t have the organizational skills to put together a social event with pillars of the community I basically live and breathe?”
“You’re overselling that speech.”
“You’re under remembering.”
“You’re avoiding.”
“You. Are. Correct.” Tapping fists with Groffee precedes me happily pointing to his new LMC coffee cup the demon that wears Dior wants them promoting. “I don’t wanna have this conversation.”
“Not wanting to have it doesn’t change the fact that it needs to be had.”
Cap is next to lightly pound his knuckles with mine.
“You wanted a second opinion about the surgery. You got three.”
“I was just being thorough,” I defensively mutter prior to engaging in the action with Hedgie.
“And now you’re just being stubborn.”
“I learned it from watching you.”
“You learned it from watching us ,” she helplessly snickers.
“Truthskies.”
Both of my parents are headstrong as fuck.
It’s why the business has steadily grown and expanded and ventured into, along with held its own, in markets people told them they would never survive in.
And that gift of determination?
It’s one they gave to us.
The difference of course being I use mine for good while the womb sharer uses her for evil.
Example?
I was literally laughed out of the room for auditioning to be a hockey commentator only to use my resolve to become one of the highest paid media coordinators in the league and the highest paid one with tits, yet when she was denied the opportunity to model some on the rise, plus-sized brand – something she is clearly not – she bought the company, fired everyone, and resold it to what would’ve been its biggest competitor in the market for the price of one luxury rooftop brunch.
See.
Evil.
“You need the surgery, Arden,” Mom scolds, tone more concerned than anything else. “Your vertigo episodes are increasing.”
“Only a little.”
“And your tinnitus is getting worse.”
“I mean…it’s not getting better.”
“And I get it. You’re an adult woman who can make her own decisions-”
“ Typically. ”
“However, you are still my little girl, which means I want and am going to nag you into making the right call for your health.”
Against my own volition my shoulders sulk in defeat. “Fine.”
“Fine, what?”
“Fine, I’ll schedule the appointment.”
“Now.”
“Not now,” I bite at the same time the elevator doors open to spit out the last of the players. “I’m working.”
“You’re always working.”
“Yes, and I hope you know most parents would be proud of that.”
“ Arden. ”
“I’ll call Monday.”
“Tomorrow.”
“If I get home in time. Deal?”
“Deal.” She doesn’t even pause long enough for a breath. “But I will be following up on this. Clear?”
“Clearksies.”
Peck knocks his fists against mine and continues walking while Tanner completely stops.
Slides his hands into his dark coat.
Wordlessly declares no pregame tap will be given unless he has my undivided attention.
Ugh.
Sweet stubborn bastard.
“Gotta go, Mom.” Meeting Khurana’s stare for a brief moment is accompanied by a head tip to get moving. “Loading up.”
“Quack. Quack.”
The code phrase successfully pulls a crooked grin to my phrase. “Quack. Quack.”
Ending the call has barely been completed when Tanner squawks, “Did you just quack at your mum?!” Mirth floods his bright crystal stare to the point that it almost takes my breath away. “Like was that an actual thing that just happened? That I just had the pleasure to witness?!”
Rather than engage in his taunting, I begin my own, “You look like Robin Hood.”
He places an open palm of intrigue over his emerald green tie. “ Prince of Thieves ?”
“ Men in Tights. ”
The glare he twitches prompts me to extend my fist for the traditional bump that he instantly delivers. Afterwards, we begin heading side by side for the bus. “Which of those should we watch postgame tonight?”
“Shouldn’t you be focused on pregame ritchies rather than post?”
“I can do both.”
“You can barely do one.”
Light chuckles swing back and forth but unfortunately get interrupted by a loud, high pitched, feminine voice. “ Froskkkky!!!! ” The two of us cut our gazes to the left where a large tittied brunette is bouncing up and down like a Pomeranian. “ OhmygoodFroskkkkyyyy! ” An object suddenly gets propelled through the air, landing lifelessly near his feet. “ For luck! ”
Disgust can’t be kept out of my voice, “Are those her panties?”
“Yes,” an irrefutable astonished sigh escapes, “those are indeed her panties.”
“Hope they’re clean,” is muttered as I continue to walk.
“I appreciate the thought!” He calls out to her on a point of the object. “ Thank you! ” Hurrying to remain at my side precedes him mumbling, “That’s a new one.”
“Can the same be said for that thong?”
Additional laughter escapes during our ascension of the bus steps; however, the instant the team sees their final player board, they collectively “ ra ” smothering out the sound.
I prepare to drop down in the seat beside Khurana when Tanner turns to face me, mischievous smile – I hate myself for knowing so damn well – plastered plain as day on his face.
He’s about to cause trouble.
And it’s gonna be centered around me.
Joy.
“How about you sit in the back with me, Hoss?”
“That sounds like the opposite of what Rosa fought for.”
Small sniggers over my chirp seep free from the boys but don’t deter the man with the silkiest mitts on board. “You need my pregame ritchy, yes?” He slowly continues to back up. “You cannot get it, if you are not back here with me to witness it.”
“Someone please reassure me he doesn’t play a little one-man hockey in the back of the bus,” I call out to the boys who collectively laugh louder. “Coach?”
“Snowman keeps his mitts off his carrot,” Blanc playfully promises. “But if he doesn’t? You have my full permission to tape them to the seat to assure that he does.”
“You have my full permission to do that as well,” Tanner echoes with an eyebrow waggle. “I would never say no to a little pregame bondage. ”
Gagging is mindlessly done.
“My apologies. I meant bonding.”
“You didn’t.”
“Wahl,” Cap grunts his interruption, “move to the back to provide a bit of D for Hoss.”
“I swear I’ve got all the D she needs.” The troublemaker I loathe myself for liking pats the seat next to him. “All she has to do is ask for it.”
“Does he actually need all of his teeth to play?” I teasingly goad Cap who is unhappily glowering.
“Looferz doesn’t, aye,” one of the Goonie Tunes points out while Wahl and I both relocate to Tanner.
Once I’m settled in the seat beside him – with Wahl in the one directly in front of him – I slide out my work phone to begin recording.
“Spill,” flies out of me in an impatient fashion. “What is your pre-game ritch? Music? Movies? Moonpies?”
“Man, I love a good Moonpie,” Wahl loudly murmurs from his seat. “Or those weird little Canadian pie things Becks used to eat pre-game.”
“Butter tarts,” Tanner states prior to pulling out a small booklet from his pocket. “And my pre-game ritch is. C rossword. Puzzles. ”
There’s no stopping me from leaning to the side of the camera and delivering a sarcastic stare.
“I am absolutely serious.” A green pen is whipped out next. “At home it’s simple. I put on my suit. I hydrate. And I dabble on it until time to leave. On the road…I have to sit next to a window,” his open palm ushers itself towards the one beside him, “use my team color pen,” the object is wiggled in front of the lens along with his face, “and complete it the next morning whether that’s at breakfast or on the return home or in route to our next destination. However, I always start a new puzzle pregame every night.”
Amusement and disbelief fuse in my expression. “Very…intellectual of you.”
“Hockey players are not all just puckheads.” Tanner flips open to a blank puzzle as he calls out, “WonderWahl.”
The large d-man in front of us pops his head over the seat yet again. “Yeah?”
“What’s an eleven-letter word for an impractical theorist?”
Confusion doesn’t hesitate to crawl across his complexion. “I don’t even think there are eleven letter words, Snowman.”
“Although, some of them are.” Tanner winks into the camera. “Aye, Cap!”
“What?”
“Do you know a word for an impractical theorist?”
I can’t stop my attention or camera instinct from cutting over to the oversized Russian who is much smarter than most people want to give him credit for. “How many letters?”
“Eleven,” the three of us retort.
“Words don’t have that many letters,” mutters Potato from somewhere towards the front.
“First letter?” Cap cautiously inquires in return.
“Open.”
“Try doctrinaire.”
“Let’s try doctrinaire,” Tanner states in tandem with pen tapping the camera.
Curiosity has me leaning over to see if his top cheddar word choice actually fits.
“Correct amount of letters…” hums the man that won’t stop surprising me, “but does it fit with the clue that crosses it?” He uses the edge of the still capped pen to follow along with the next description. “Heavy metal band of ‘Down with the Sickness’.”
“Disturbed!” exclaims Wahl, scrambling back over the seat. “It’s Disturbed!”
“Fits,” our pen wielding crossword prince informs while popping the top off. “Which means Cap’s word is correct as well.”
“Yo, Cap, you got it right!” Wahl loudly announces during his slink back down.
“How the fuck did you know that?” questions one of the other boys.
“How about I get some credit too for getting one right?” Wahl whines, joining that conversation, leaving us to our own.
“ See ,” Tanner smugly smirks for the fans once more. “We’re much more than just puckheads.”
Ending the recording allows me to giggle openly.
Freely.
“ Godilovethatsound ,” is mindlessly muttered at the same time he fills in the letters. “Wanna hop on the assist?” His stare swings up to mine. “Show me what it is, I already know about you.”
“Which is?”
“You mean aside from you being impossibly stubborn?”
“Obviously.”
“That you are undeniably brilliant.”
“I um…I don’t know about brilliant …” adjusting my coat is done out of discomfort over the compliment, “but…I’ll take…not as dumb as the average skate chasing broadskie.”
Hearing him chuckle heats my temperature to the point that I have to tug at my collar to let in additional air.
What the fuck is going on, on this bus?
Did they turn it up to super sauna temps?!
Can we turn it back down to a would keep your coffee lukewarm level?
“Why uh…” I clear my throat in an attempt to collect my composure. “Why crosswords?” Seeing his unexpected reluctance to share has me curling my frame inward. Leaning forward. Playfully pushing. “Do I need to promise that it’ll be our dirty little secret?”
He shoots me an unsuspecting soft smile. “I would appreciate it if you did.”
Additional shock has me instantly nodding. “Okay. Promise.”
Tanner lowers his volume and frame in tandem at the same time his eyes lock onto mine. “I have two dads.”
The declaration has me cocking my head to the side as a silent indicator he has my full attention.
“ Dad – the ‘All-American’ blue-collar hero – is the one who took me to every pracky and game and tourney and has been in the crowd for every monumental moment of my career from minis to majors. People see him and think typical hockey dad.” Pain briefly flashes in his stare before he presses onward. “ Father – the Doctenn born history professor whose sperm took to the egg to create the biological glory that is me – is the one who has to be with me in spirit at every pracky and game and monumental moment because of the backlash that comes from having gay parents.”
One hand falls to his thigh in unspoken sympathy.
“ I’m not embarrassed,” he firmly declares. “ At. All. If it were up to me, they would both be there. They would both see me play. Cheer me on. Celebrate my victories. However,” the slow headshake encourages me to deliver a soothing stroke to his leg, “the collective consensus is that’s unacceptable in the sport. Growing up, anytime we attempted to pushback against the status quo, I was punished. Benched for entire games. Scratched for others. Dropped from premier teams-”
“All because you’ve got two dads?”
“All because I’ve got two dads.” An almost heartbroken shrug is given. “Father decided it wasn’t worth ruining my dream just to be seen physically there, which is why he stopped coming. He even missed my rookie skate.”
“ Ohmygod…your rookie skate?! ”
“Yeah…” I swear there are tears in his voice but choose not to acknowledge them for fear of him shutting down. “Dad is the face the world knows while Father travels with me in spirit. ” The pen purposelessly taps the page. “Crosswords have always been something we did together as a family – with Dad’s answers feeling eerily similar to Wahls – so they naturally became part of my pregame ritchy along with carrying around one of these.” It only takes a brief second for him to pull out a mini warrior figurine from his pocket. “He would always slip one of these into my hockey bag to find on gameday.” The grin that grows is borderline bashful. “They were my little piece of ‘him’ that were there to support me in my greatest battles including the first time I made it to playoffs in The Show.” Tanner casually slips the miniature back into his pocket. “I have quite the impressive collection.”
“Show me someday?” leaves me so lightly and easily that I’m not even totally sold on being the one who said.
“ Any day, Ducky ,” Tanner warmly whispers back, attention dropping back to the booklet we’re working on. “ Any day. ”