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Also, and this was just me being petty, Elmira was just a little too close to Watkins Glen. Nothing against the village itself. I liked the town just fine. It was our rival team that ground my gears. Since I had to look at Baskoro tomorrow night, I’d prefer to keep my distance. Not that looking at the man was painful. Far from it. He was beautiful, but he was also a jerk and I did not have time for that kind of negativity in my life, fellow queer player or not. “Did she eat well?”
“She did eat some of the cauliflower we harvested yesterday, but I had to douse it with cheese.”
I chuckled, turning on the water. “Well, at least she got some inside her.” Someone rapped on the door four times, then rattled the handle. I sighed and scowled at my reflection. That was Luke’s signal to hurry up. “Luke is at the door being a pain in my backside.”
“Just keeping us on time. Hey there, Aunt Zada,” the tiny man with the booming voice shouted through the crack in the door. “Give our girl a smooch from Uncle Luke. Marcus, ten minutes, buddy.”
“That man is a taskmaster,” Aunt Zada sniped. I agreed, but it was nothing that I hadn’t signed up for. Every dime counted, and my pay to play in the AHL wasn’t going to ensure a nest egg for Kyleen’s college fund. We did not make millions down here in the minors like the pros did. Someday, soon—I hoped—the call-up would come and I’d be living high on the hog, me and the girls, but until that day came it was sporting expos, ads for local eateries, and lots of hockey. Good thing I loved the game.
“He’s just trying to keep me busy and making money. Tell her daddy loves her and I will see her in the morning. Thank you for everything. We couldn’t have made it—”
“Tut, tut, you stop that right now. I love you and my great niece to bits. Now go be famous.”
I smiled warmly at the phone in my hand, grateful as hell for this woman and all she had done for my child and me. If not for her, I’d not be living my dream.
“Love you. Give my baby a kiss from her daddy. I’ll see her soon.” After hanging up, I lifted my gaze from the phone, and found myself in the looking glass.
I looked tired. I was tired. Training camp had been a real ballbuster this season. Coach had let slip that management was not impressed with our performance last season and they were looking to divest the squad of those who did not perform. Moving with my elderly aunt and a five-year-old was not at all what I wanted to do. Sure, we all knew that moves were part of the game, but we’d just gotten settled nicely and my game had been good. They surely wouldn’t cut me, would they? I made a face at myself.
No, they would not, not if you showed up and gave them 110 percent.
And that was what I planned to do. First team on the list to come up against the super determined Marcus Newley were the Gladiators. If anyone needed to be knocked down a peg, it was Baskoro “I hate you but I refuse to say why” Huda.
I flung the bathroom door open two minutes later to find Luke hunched over his phone, muttering about clients, as I wiggled through the narrow door with my bags of gear. His hazel eyes rose from his Android. He took me in and nodded.
“You look good. Nice shirt. Did you forget a razor? Never mind, it’s sexy to be scruffy. Time to roll. Lila has some food for us for the road. It’s in the car.” He straightened to his whole five foot six inches, ran a hand over his wavy dark hair, and motioned to the dining room. “Shall we?”
“Yes, we shall,” I replied with lots more joy than I really felt. I’d much sooner be home for bath time and a story, but a man had to do what a man had to do for his loved ones. “Let’s go sign some shirts and help sell some tents.”
***
“Daddy, is a banana a veg-able?”
I glanced up from my eggs and toast and looked at my daughter. Big brown eyes rested on me, her popping crispy cereal with sliced bananas snapping in her favorite unicorn bowl.
“No, it’s a fruit,” I told her between hurried bites. She had ten minutes to get to the bus down at the corner.
“That’s so sad. If they was veg-ables then it would count and I wouldn’t have to eat anymore today.”
I smiled down at my plate of scrambled eggs. “You know,” I said as my sight lifted from my food to her round, sweet face. “Eating more than one serving of vegetables is good for you.”
Her tiny nose crinkled. “They’re gross. But banana is good.” She hoisted a fat slice of banana from her cereal bowl, milk splashing over the table and her clean dress as she hurried to shove the spoon into her mouth. “Oh, Daddy, I made a mess.” She sighed dramatically around her mouthful of food.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, and yeah, you did. Eat up, I’ll go get you clean clothes.” I jammed a slice of toast into my face and then sprinted up the stairs to the second floor of my house. Sidestepping toys and a Barbie car, I hurtled across the white and pink room, found some leggings and a sparkly top, and then rushed back downstairs to the kitchen. Aunt Zada was snoring away in her bedroom on the first floor, enjoying the only morning she would have to sleep in for a few days.
Kyleen frowned at my choice of clothes. “Daddy, those are ugly.”
“So is sour milk on your dress, and since we now have four minutes to catch the bus, this is what you’re wearing.”
She complained bitterly, but we did the deed. Then it was out the door, bookbag in hand, child skipping along as if the big yellow school bus wasn’t idling at the corner waiting for us. Four days into the school year and we had set a precedent of being late. Great. Way to go Newley clan.
“Thanks for waiting,” I panted as I led Kyleen by the hand to the open bus door and then passed over her tiny backpack, also with unicorns. She was big into horses with horns this year.
“No problem,” the older Black gent replied, tapping his Comets hat. “I’m a big fan. Have season tickets. Hope you beat the boogers out of them Gladiators. Name’s Charlie, by the way. Could you sign my cap?”
“That’s the plan, and of course,” I answered with a wink and autographed the rim of his yellow cap. Then I looked at Kyleen poking at something on the floor instead of getting into her seat. “Kyleen, go sit down, girl.”
She bolted off and jumped onto the long green padded bench seat next to Mica, who was her boyfriend. Her words, not mine. I wasn’t all that sure Mica was down with being in a committed relationship at six years old, to be honest. She started chattering at the boy instantly, and he bobbed his blond head up and down. Kyleen liked to talk. She got that from her mother as well as me. I liked to think I was a friendly guy, polite, kind to animals and kids and the elderly. I didn’t smoke, drink, or eat red meat. So why did Baskoro Huda hate me so much?
