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“What?” His attention has already returned to his phone and clearly this request of mine is beyond annoying.
“Look, forget it. I’ll take care of it.”
A quick Google search shows me the gift shop in 5280 Arena is opening in 10 minutes. I’m sure Randall doesn’t even notice me leave the hotel suite. He’s been my manager for several years now, and I can’t deny the effect he has had on my career. I have more money than I can ever conceive of spending. I’ve exposed more and more people who look like me to classical music. People who would never have otherwise listened to it and string instruments…to music, period. But lately I want more. Not more fame or fortune. But I want to do more. I don’t want to stand up on an enormous stage before tens of thousands of people, so removed from them. I want to see my audience. I want to talk with them. I want to know what they want from me.
And I want this frenetic pace to stop. Hell, even when I am home in Chicago, I’m on stage most of the time that I’m there. I barely even have time to head up to my parents and spend time with them.
I’m tired of being surrounded by people who don’t know me at all. They benefit financially and otherwise by being in my circle. I don’t say inner circle, because I don’t think I have one of those. People who know me. People who can read my mood when I walk into the room. Fynn can do that. People who can alter my mood for the better just by calling or texting. TJ can do that. He might be the first real friend I’ve had since school.
Fynn would understand my desire to get a hockey jersey. He would mock me for it, but he would get it. Fynn is the only one who knows the turmoil this constant world tour has set churning inside of me. TJ doesn’t know. I’ve not let him know. But the calls, the texts, this rhythm of friendship…it gives me a reason to play every day. That elevator ride. His own turmoil. I understood it more than he knows. I feel it with him. And the bond we formed that night, it helped me as much as him. Something I doubt he realizes either.
Something I should tell him. He needs to know how much he means to me. I’m not good at sharing my feelings. Hell, I’m not good at having feelings. I try damn hard not to have them unless I have a violin in my hand. But…I am showing my feelings…I’m buying a hockey jersey. That’s the best I can do right now.
Chapter fourteen
The shop is chock full of hats and T-shirts and sweatshirts, half dedicated to the NBA team and the other half to the Grizzlies. I meander through the overwhelming number of hats with various versions of the logo. And grab a simple one with just the snarling bear on it.
“Good morning,” I hear a chipper voice and turn to see a young woman toting a gigantic box through the stands of shirts.
“Uh, hi.” I laugh. “Can I help?”
“Nope,” she sighs and lets the box fall to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Can I help you find anything?”
“Actually, I’m looking for a Grizzlies jersey.”
“Oh, those are back here,” she scoots around me and leads me to another section of the shop, which is pretty much all jerseys, but again different versions of them. I didn’t know that was a thing. “Anyone specific?”
“TJ,” I say and then swallow. She grins and I follow her to the back corner.
“Home,” she points to the left. “Away,” she points to the right. “And,” she bends forward and whispers conspiratorially. “I have a very few of the special jersey they are wearing today for the Winter Classic in the other store downstairs, if you want me to get you one of those.”
“Oh. Would that be a lot of trouble?”
“Not at all,” she eyes me up and down. “XL?”
I nod, not at all sure how a hockey jersey should fit. “Sure.”
She disappears and I see a young guy step behind the registers and begin prepping for the day.
I look at the hat in my hand and continue to wander amongst the sweatshirts while I wait, picking up another one just sporting that bear. What is it about that damn bear? As I turn this one to view the back and front, I spot a bear on the shoulder. A rainbow bear. Well, that’s unexpected.
“Okay…here we go,” She holds the jersey up and spins it around to the back…his number and Marshall across the back. I’d almost forgotten he has a last name.
“Perfect.”
“Feliz Año Nuevo Denver!”
How many games have I watched on TV now? I don’t know. Enough that this place feels familiar to me, even though I’ve never set foot in here before today. I’ve played in Colorado many times, but always in summer and outdoors. Red Rocks amphitheater and the baseball stadium…but never here. I can barely make out the crowd because of the massive spotlights on me and my tiny orchestra. But I can feel them. It’s full. I can just make out the expanse of seats on the floor in front of me. The shadowed rows run the length of what would be ice. Ice when TJ is here. Ice just the other night. Up in the rafters I can see the Grizzlies Championship banners swaying slightly, disturbed by the crowd movements, the building’s heating units, combo of both.
TJ is on the ice right now, several states away. Or maybe just finishing up. The game began before I headed over here from the hotel. I had just enough time to watch the beginning. See the lineups. Hear the announcers talk about how special these games are, and about the football stadium they are playing in. And enough time to see TJ skate around for warmups without his helmet. That gorgeous face taking in his surroundings. His hair moving in the breeze. His body draped in the same jersey I will wear later tonight.
I miss him. Not sure why the distance from him is tugging at me so hard tonight. We’ve talked less in recent days. I guess I’ve grown dependent on his texts and even the brief phone calls hearing his baritone voice. Being able to make him laugh or smile. Smiles I can hear in his voice. I like I can do that for him. I can relax him. He enjoys hearing about my music. And I’ve grown to enjoy hearing about hockey. Learning about the game. Trying to come to grips with the fact that fighting on the ice is really one of the most important and main parts of his job. Doesn’t mean I don’t cringe every time he does it.
We’ve also been learning about each other. It’s been a bit like dating without the pressure or expectation. We can talk about food, TV, movies…parents.
Here I stand in his home away from home. And in some tiny, completely illogical way, I feel closer to him because of that. Even more illogical is that I want that. Friendship. That’s what this is. Nothing more. And I want that. I need that. I hadn’t known how much until he came into my life.
