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I take a brief pause late in the first set to get a drink of water and talk to the crowd a bit. A crowd that only appears to me as faceless shadows, small sprinkles of color here and there.
“Do I have any Grizzlies fans out there?” I place my hand to my forehead as if I’m searching the crowd.
Everyone roars and I laugh. “Of course, I do! Does anyone know the score of the game? Did we win?”
The crowd gets louder, so I’m taking that as a yes. I strain to hear details but can’t make anything out. I step slightly off stage and motion to the girl holding the jersey for me to bring it out. She looks slightly aghast at having to step beyond the security of the curtain. I smile and motion her forward. I pull the jersey on over my silk shirt, now plastered to me with sweat. I fiddle with microphone wires and yank an elastic off my wrist to put my dreads back into a ponytail.
The crowd absolutely loses its mind when I return to view again. I smile and turn, giving them the full view before diving right into a rendition of Stairway to Heaven.
Chapter fifteen
I was in the air for all of Nandy’s concert.
I’m one of the fortunate few who can sleep on a plane. I crashed hard, as I do. Sometimes I sleep better there than at home. But that didn’t keep me from heading straight to bed when I got home.
I dropped my bag by the door and left a trail of clothes en route to the bedroom.
Somehow, playing outside is always more exhausting. The game itself was great. I love Winter Classics. We won, but it was close. And I don’t mind close games when both teams are playing well and the tightness of the score isn’t because of mistakes or lapses. It’s just damn good hockey all around.
Good hockey doesn’t mean my body isn’t protesting the hard hits I dished out, and yes, took, yesterday. I groan as I get out of bed and rake my hands through my hair. The quiet of my apartment hits me as I stand. It hits me hard. It’s not something I usually mind, but lately…last night I would have loved to have had someone to talk to about the game. Someone waiting for me. Coming home to an empty space has never bothered me before. In fact, I’ve never even noticed it before. Until Nandy.
Nandy is in Colorado. At this very moment. In a hotel room across town. Or maybe he’s already headed to Salt Lake. That’s his next stop. Did he leave right after his show? We sometimes do that. Usually do that. Especially when the next stop is home. I don’t know what Nandy does. Can he sleep on a plane like I can?
I want to know these things and more. So much more. I want to know every tiny detail about him.
We text and call nearly daily, or as much as we can. The conflict in our schedules yesterday, our overlapping events, different times of day in the air…all the things…made it impossible to connect yesterday. And I missed that. It surprises me just how much I missed it.
I’ve never had a friend away from hockey. My younger brother…but he’s a relative…and a dozen years younger. I wanted Nandy for all the wrong reasons when I laid eyes on him. And I’m not gonna lie. I still find him crazy attractive, but he’s that kind of man. Everyone on the planet should find him gorgeous. And I’m pretty sure they do. He is a work of art. But more than his looks, more than the challenge he offers me, he was a friend to me in that elevator. He didn’t judge. He didn’t ask questions, still hasn’t. He’s simply been a friend. He understands. I don’t know the depth of his understanding. Has he had panic attacks too? And maybe someday I’ll have the answer to that question. But I don’t need it. He was and is everything I didn’t even know I needed…a friend. A friend who doesn’t play hockey. A friend who shares the angst of the spotlight.
I get coffee going and turn on the TV, find the app for YouTube, and open it up.
Nandy’s PR rep always gets video of his concerts. He’s great about it. It doesn’t take me long to find the one from last night. I smile when hear Nandy’s voice saying hello and Happy New Year to the Denver crowd. Oh yeah, I almost forgot about New Year’s. That happens all the time. More often than not, we are on the road for the holiday. It’s a blip on the calendar. Has been for years and not just because of hockey. Kissing someone on New Year’s should be special. It should signal something meaningful. One of the few odd sort of superstitions I have, I guess. So even hooking up on New Year’s ended for me years ago.
The other night, I dreamed of kissing Nandy at midnight. Of holding him. Of our lips touching, lingering, tongues teasing.
I shake my head and press my hand against my now awake cock.
Nandy speaks to the crowd in both English and Spanish. I love it when he speaks Spanish. I don’t understand a word of it, but it’s beautiful falling from his lips. I head back into the kitchen to gather the ingredients for a smoothie. Puttering around the kitchen, I’m lost in Nandy’s music. I’ve watched enough of his concerts now to know his set list. But he pauses for a bit too long between songs and I hear him ask the crowd about us…as in the Grizzlies.
“Do I have any Grizzlies fans out there?”
The crowd roars and I step around the island to watch, because the crowd noise is getting even louder. He’s put his violin down and he’s doing something, motioning to someone offstage. A woman comes out and hands him…Oh my God!
My jaw drops. My heart thuds in my chest as I see Nandy slip a Colorado Grizzlies jersey over his silk dress shirt. My jersey.
Holy Fuck.
My jersey. My name across his back. He’s mine.
I can’t even process the feelings ping-ponging all around my head, my body…my damn cock. My name…so sexy across his broad shoulders, his pony-tailed dreads dancing across the letters as he plays and struts across the stage.
Where is he right now? I look at the clock on the wall. Is he here? Is in Salt Lake? Either way same time zone then. It’s not crazy early.
“Do you need it autographed?” I say when he answers. No greeting. Nothing. That’s what I do.
“Oh, yeah, that might be cool.” He says all casually.
“Where are you?”
