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“Aww. So do we have to pick them up at will call?”
He just looked at her. “No, Grandma. They’re on my phone.”
“Shut it. So, is Osi coming? I would’ve thought for sure he’d be here.”
“Nah. Apparently, he’s been barfing with a fever for two days. Couple of the other guys were sick last week, too. Hope it’s not gonna run through the locker room. He said to text him updates.”
They went through security, scanned the tickets, and entered the arena just in time for the warm-up.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and hurried her to the stairs that led down to the glass. “Our seats are second level, but I wanna get down to watch the warm-up. He’s gonna take his rookie lap.”
“What’s that?”
“When a player makes his NHL debut, he skates a lap or two by himself during the warm-up, before all the other players join him. It’s tradition. I don’t wanna miss it.”
“Aww,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “That’s literally the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m just really proud of him, you know? Kid works his ass off. No one…no one deserves this more than Hayes.”
She didn’t tell him, but she could see that the therapy was working already. The Ryan Baylor of a month ago wouldn’t even be here, and now here he was, rushing to the glass, excited to support his friend.
They made their way down to the boards, which were packed, but they managed to squeeze into a primo spot when some fans recognized Ryan, he signed some autographs, and Amara took some pics of him with them.
The pucks dumped out onto the ice, a cleaned-up version of "Stay Fly" by Three 6 Marfia began blaring through the sound system, and then Hayes took to the ice alone. The crowd went absolutely crazy for him, amid the sounds of the other players banging their sticks against the bench and in the tunnel.
He’d never looked more alive, more at home, than he did at that very moment. It was quick, as the other guys joined him on the ice shortly after, but he owned every second of it like the absolute fucking boss he was.
Amara looked up at Ryan after she’d heard him sniffing. “Ryan Baylor, are you crying?”
“No!” he scoffed, attempting to cover it up. “But you are.”
“Duh,” she laughed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. On about his fourth lap around, Hayes spotted them and skated over to where they stood. The smile he flashed them was the biggest she’d ever seen. “Thank you,” he mouthed. Amara made a heart with her fingers, holding it up to the glass, and Ryan gave him a nod.
Someone tapped Ryan on the shoulder, and he turned around. “Yo, Baylor. When are we gonna see you out there?”
“I don’t know, man. I’m working on it. Hopefully soon.”
Ryan continued to make small talk with some of the fans, and even though she’d seen it before, it was always surreal to her that people knew him and wanted his picture and autograph. She just saw him as her pain-in-the-ass roommate and ex-boyfriend, but to many others, he was so many other things: a hero, a role model, a fantasy.
To her, he was just Ryan.
When he’d finished chatting, after drawing a small crowd that included a few pre-teen girls who had literally cried as they took a picture with him, they grabbed a few beers and headed up to their seats in the second level.
“Twenty-eight dollars for two beers should be a fucking crime,” Amara complained, as they shimmied down the row across laps and sat down.
“Well, they gotta fund these overpaid assholes’ salaries somehow,” Ryan joked, winking at her.
“This is a really nice place,” Amara observed, looking around. “Much nicer than Total Mortgage Arena.” She took a sip, and as she viewed about three rows in front of them and about 10 seats to the left, she damn near choked on her beer. She coughed, trying not to spit everywhere, as she grabbed Ryan’s arm and squeezed it hard. “Holy…shit!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“That’s fucking Jenna!”
Ryan looked, and sure enough, there she was, posing as another girl took pictures of her, complete with a portable ring light.
“That fucking skank!” Amara growled.
“Why the hell would she be here?”
