AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And why the hell was the man back inside my skull? Shaking free from the specter of my rival, I waved at Kyleen, who was too busy being bossy to notice, her mouth still running at Mica.
“Good luck tonight,” Charlie called as I backed off the lower step.
The doors closed and the bright yellow bus took off. Kyleen was far too involved telling Mica what to do to wave at her poor father standing on the corner. How had she gotten so big so fast? Seems like just a week ago she’d been handed to me by her mother without so much as a “take good care of her” or “I’ll see you two someday” which, hey, would have been a lie since the woman had let out for parts unknown. You’d think she would have at least contacted us on birthdays and/or holidays, but whatever. We didn’t need her. Kyleen was my daughter and while she didn’t have much family, she had me and Aunt Zada.
I turned and ran into several women, all mothers of kids on the bus, who were sending off vibes that made me edgy. I felt like poor Mica as the kind but overwhelming horde of females closed in on me. Single dads who were jocks and not total trolls were pretty popular among the single slash divorced women in this neighborhood. I’d not seen them when we arrived. Had they been hiding in the wildly overgrown rhododendron bushes in Mrs. Laycock’s front yard?
“Ladies,” I tossed out with all the debonair I possessed. They closed in like piranhas hearing a monkey falling into the Amazon River. I’d been bi long enough to know that I was in their sights for potential boyfriend material. Yep, me and Mica were in the same boat. “I’d love to stay and talk about reading rewards at the local ice cream parlor, but I have to get home and pack. Road trip today. Have a good one!”
I ducked and weaved around the local single women and made it back to my house with only one pie and an invite to a picnic next weekend. Aunt Zada was awake and making coffee when I stepped into the kitchen. Her titter made me frown.
“Ah, so Charlene from down the street made you another pie. That’s the fourth one in two weeks. That woman is hot to trot.” She nodded at her own words, then pulled off her sleeping cap, revealing silver curls laying tight to one side of her head.
“She’s trying way too hard. Besides, I’m really only low-level into women. Also, who has time?” I placed the pie on the counter. “Do they not realize hockey season starts today?”
“Honey, all they care about is snaring a beautiful Black man in his prime who likes kids.”
“Well, they’re wasting all their flour and cherry pie filling. I’m kind of burned out on women with agendas.”
“Good thing you swing both ways then or your right hand would be too tired to catch pucks.”
“Aunt Zada, the things you say!” I choked out and laughed. The woman was a pistol, and the only member of my family that had stood by me when I’d come out as bisexual when I was in college. She’d been the lone soul that had loved me enough to accept me as myself then had leapt in when I’d found myself with an unexpected child and no partner to help raise her. The woman had uprooted herself to move to Wilkes-Barre with me and Kyleen when I’d been picked up by the Comets. When I say that my daughter and I would have been in deep, deep shit without her, it is not an exaggeration. “You want me to take the pie to the barn?”
“No, I’d like you to leave it here, but my doctor would scold me if I ate a whole pie in two days,” she said over her shoulder as she stirred some cream into her coffee. Her summer robe was bright yellow and green, with big flowers, and it matched her sleeping scarf. She disliked slippers so she was barefooted. “Take it to the boys.”
So, that was what I did. An hour later, I arrived at the Filkes Mortgage Arena with a cherry pie. As soon as I climbed onto the waiting charter bus, the guys zoned in on the pie like beagles on a rabbit scent.
“God bless Charlene and her baking skills!” Crispy shouted as he removed the pie from my hand and then curled over it like a lion protecting a fresh kill. After I stowed my overnight bag in the overhead, I sat down across the aisle from our team captain, and my best friend on the team, and settled in for the ride to Watkins Glen. “You ever going to give her a chance to be wooed by the best goalie in our division?”
“Doubtful.” I sighed as I tucked my travel pillow behind my neck. “I’m not in the market for a long-term anything.”
Crispy—also known as Lee Crispen—slapped at Tom Finnerty when the defenseman tried to jab a spork through the crack of the seat in front of Crispy to spear some pie. I mean, come on man, at least get the foil off the pie first.
“I will leave you bloodied,” Crispy snarled, which made Tom howl in amusement. “Jerks with their sporks.” Crispy placed the pie on the empty seat beside him. Most of us had to sit with someone, but the captain had special rights. I glanced to the left to see my road buddy and fellow goalie, Ooni Aalto, napping with his gold head resting on the tinted window. Ooni was a good sort, affable, and easy to travel with. We roomed together and while he was kind of a slob, he did pick up after himself so I could overlook the wet towels tossed over the dressers. “Also, I never said anything about something long term.”
“Nah, I’m not really into that shit anymore. I have a kid, man, and I want to be a good example. The next person I bring home will be someone that I have feelings for, not some random hookup. I want Kyleen to see that her daddy has morals.”
“Good on you, News,” Crispy replied as he reached over the aisle to rap knuckles. “I wish I had that kind of moralistic determination. I see a pretty woman or a sexy dude and I’m all over that.”
“Having a kid changes everything,” I told the only other out player on my team. Were there more queer Comets? I had a few suspicions.
“Yeah, I can imagine. Hey! Get your damn dirty spork out of my pie!” Crispy bellowed as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed north. With a pie war raging across the aisle, I pulled out my phone, opened my audio book app, and dug out my earbuds. The ride was a short one, about two hours and forty minutes. We’d have enough time to check into our hotel, nap and eat, and report to the Schaffer Salt Arena for the game at seven p.m. I could feel the pulse of excitement curling around inside my belly. This was going to be my year. The year the Comets won the Calder. The year the pros finally took notice of me. The year that my life was going to be exactly what I dreamed it would be. All I had to do was beat Baskoro Huda. It was an all-out war in the eastern division and only one team would be victorious.
I cued up Ken Dryden’s book and slid in my earbuds. It was time to get serious about this game we played, and it all started tonight.
Chapter Three
Baskoro
“Basky, Basky, his saves are fantasky!”
Hunkered down in the cattle chute, as I called the covered hallway leading to the ice, I had to smirk at Greck’s stupid pump-up shouts behind me. The team followed the goalie out onto the ice and things were pretty chaotic with the men lined up at my back. Greck—the loudest and most keyed-up player I had ever met—was doing what he did best. Cranking people up. His energy seemed to be doubled now that he was crazy in love with Henri. Of all the people to get together, I would never have imagined those two. Love did crazy chaotic.
“Your rhymes make my ears hurt,” I heard Fossie shout as I zeroed in visually on the tips of my skates. Tonight was a big one. A game that would set the tone for the rest of the season.
“Fossie, Fossie, his hits are glossy!” Greck bellowed, bounced off someone and into my backside, patted my well-padded rump, and then went on to wax poetic as the lights in the Shaffer Salt Arena dimmed. The hometown fans were on their feet, the shouts and cheers funneling down to us as the guys chest bumped, high-fived, and in the case of Greck, invented silly rhymes to fire us up.
“Gladiator” by Zayde Wolf, the song that we hit the ice to, began to play. The music was so loud the floor vibrated. I touched the gold star and crescent resting just below the gladiator on my sweater. It had belonged to my grandfather, a devout Muslim, and had been given to me upon his death. I wasn’t committed to any religion as most had a problem with my queerness, but I loved my grandfather dearly even if he had passed never knowing the truth about his grandson. My grandmother had insisted I wear it, so I did, but it was more of a connection to my grandfather than to any deity. If I were to pray anywhere, it would be at the tabernacle that DJ’s boyfriend, Pastor Gabe, was in charge of because that tiny church was filled with love.
