Page 1 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

ONE

BEAU

Damn, Tampa Bay really brought the heat tonight.

They’ve been skating their asses off and making us work for every damn goal. Thankfully, our goalie, Nilsson, is blocking almost all their attempts—for a change—but I’m getting a workout.

I focus my attention on their offense. Karl Fischer is a tank on the ice, a German-bred beast of a man, and he’s hungry for a win. Bummer for him, because so am I.

I skate up to get between him and his center, Bauer, who has the puck. Fischer doesn’t hesitate to barrel into me, slamming me into the boards. Growling, I shove him off me, scanning the ice for Harlson, my first-line partner, grinning when I see him maneuver in front of Bauer. I’d love to punch Fischer in the face, but I’m not risking the penalty in a game this close.

Harlson and Bauer tussle for the puck until Harlson gets it and passes to Showalter. I shift my attention to the task of protecting my center, my best friend, and in my opinion the best damn center in the league. No one is better than Travis Showalter.

Show twists with the puck, avoiding Tampa’s defensive line, and with a slight nod in my direction, passes the puck to me. I haul ass down the ice towards Tampa’s net, and just as it looks like I’m gonna take the shot, I pass it back to Show, who slides into position with perfect timing, like he can read my mind, surprising the visiting team’s defense and slamming the puck into the net for our second goal of the night.

Show skates up to me and we tap helmets before heading off the ice to end our shift. I grab my water bottle and take a drink while I put up with the congratulations from our team. Show laps it up, as always.

“Nice assist, Bozy,” my best friend says with a smile, bumping his shoulder against mine.

I just wink in response while the guys pat him on the back and tell him again what a scoring machine he is.

“How do you manage to make it look so damn easy out there, Showalter?” Josh Peters, our rookie forward asks.

Show grins. “What? It’s not easy?”

The guys all laugh while we watch our teammates out on the ice.

When it’s our turn again, we dominate. I make myself an impenetrable wall between Show and everyone else on the ice. When Fischer comes for him again, I do what I do best and check him into the boards so Show can hammer another goal home, gaining his first hat trick of the season. It won’t be his last. They don’t call him Show-Off for nothing.

We slam into each other again to celebrate, and I actually crack a smile. He’s so happy that his whole face lights up, and the few fans of ours out in the stands eat it up. There are a million lists naming him as one of the hottest guys in the league, an eligible bachelor, and the fantasy of puck bunnies everywhere. Whether it’s for a one-night stand or a ring, I swear every woman in Boston would do just about anything to get his attention.

For me, he’s the whole package. A phenomenal hockey player, an overall good guy, and the best friend I could ever ask for. He has my back, and I’ve got his. Always.

We squeak out a final goal in the last few minutes to win the game. Tampa made us work for it tonight, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. As we make our way down the tunnel, Nilsson calls out that we’re heading to Playmakers after this, the sports bar we usually go to here in Tampa.

It hardly needs to be said. We almost always go out after a game, win or lose. We’re actually known for our visibility and openness to fans. We’re often called out for our positive sportsmanship because we’re pretty solid even when we lose.

It’s all part of it. You can’t win every game.

As usual, we all rain compliments and appreciation down on our star forward, who was the real reason we pulled out tonight’s win, and Show eats it up like he always does. Yes, the rest of us helped, but he ran the show.

Coach Hall enters the room, pumped up from the win and talking strategy about tomorrow’s game with New York while we strip off our sweaty gear.

A hockey locker room is actually one of my favorite places to be other than the ice. When it works, like it does for us, I get my energy from the atmosphere. Sure, it smells like sweaty socks most of the time, and it can get loud as fuck, but I thrive here. My team is an extension of my family, even if I’m not always the most social guy in the world.

I move through my shower routine quickly, ready for a beer and some quality time with the team. Just one beer tonight though. We’re off to New York tomorrow, and we have a midday practice then a game that night.

It’s early in the season, and since we have a day off after tomorrow, maybe I can talk Travis into hanging out in the city with me and grabbing lunch at my favorite deli. Trav hates New York but he’ll do it for me. He does a lot of things for me.

“You know, we’ll have time to hang out in New York,” I say to Trav as he washes up in the stall next to mine.

“We’ll also have time to go home and hang out in our own city. The far superior one to NYC.”

“But Boston doesn’t have a Keely’s deli. You know how I need a Reuben from there any chance I get.”

Trav rolls his eyes but there’s a grin on his face. “Maybe. You know, I could lose my Boston card if I spend too much time in New York.”

“It’s like some kind of school rivalry,” Harlson says from right behind us.