I just hope sober Emerson doesn't feel the urge to use because he thinks it makes him better.
"Kai had panties in his pocket and he won't tell me whose they are. You live with him, is there anyone he is sneaking out?"
Reason number one I didn’t enjoy having friends, they always want into your business. I liked my private life exactly how it was, private.
“The only chick in the house is my sister and he isn’t her type. Other than that he’s been celibate from what I have seen. It’s kind of sad,” Emerson answers coolly, pulling his shirt off.
“I don’t need a new pussy every day to be satisfied, you walking STD.”
I keep a straight face, lucky I rarely show emotion. I’m not scared of the kid, but I’m not in the mood to fight anyone over someone I hadn’t even had sex with.
Wait, not her type?
“I wouldn’t want my sister near a serial killer, he might eat her.”
Emerson laughs, “Charlie usually goes for guys with a little more life about them. No offense, Kai, but you remind me of a corpse.”
I force a tight-lipped smile.
A corpse who makes your sister's panties wet.
“None taken. She isn’t my type either, so no worries. Nico, keep your nose in your own sex life.”
I start pulling on my pads, getting ready to sweat for the next two hours. I loved my job, I loved being a goalie. I could go onto the ice and blank out for a few hours. I wasn’t thinking about anything, just relying on instinct and my body to know what to do when the time was right.
Charlotte likes lively guys? I don’t see her being the type to date the captain of the football team or the golden boy. There isn’t any type of guy I see her with actually. She’s too unique. There is so much of her to take in, I don’t think any guy is capable of really appreciating it.
I’d found her yesterday reading my Van Gogh book onto the counter while feeding Cerberus peanut butter on a wooden spoon. I don’t know another girl like that.
Which was another thing that pissed me off, Cerberus loved her. We were supposed to be human haters together and then a pretty girl walks in and he becomes a traitor.
"Since I have you both here, Riggs has been up my ass about making sure this Christmas game happens. She and Valor want to make it an annual thing. It'll be two days into our holiday break and you have to be there or she is going to scalp me," Nico says as he shrugs his jersey over his shoulders.
"Who is going to be there?" Emerson asks.
"Us three, Riggs, Valor, Bishop, Valor's dad, and his new lady friend. Then, of course, Dalia who isn't going to be hitting the ice at five months old."
I lace my skates, grabbing my phone, and typing the event into my calendar app so it reminds me.
"Valor's dad? As in JR Sullivan?"
"The one and only," I reply to Emerson.
"Can the dude still skate? I mean I don't want to break a legend’s ankles."
Nico laughs hard, holding his belly and I snicker along with him.
JR Sullivan might have been older, but it didn't mean the talent left him. The man was in the Hockey Hall of Fame for a reason.
"JR is going to skate circles around you, Frenchie, and I for one can't wait to see it happen." Nico slaps his back heading out of the locker room toward the practice rink.
I finish getting all of my shit on, grabbing my glove and stick when Emerson stops me.
"Could you pick Charlie up from work? I have a date and her car is in the shop."
Every time I try to stop thinking about her, someone keeps reminding me of her name. All I seem to do anymore is think about her and how she makes everything in my fucking house feel so alive.
“Yeah, I will. But, Emerson," I start.
"Don’t come home drunk, she waits up for you, all night. She knows when you smell like booze. I don’t feel like waking up to you two arguing,” I finish.
He nods, chewing his bottom lip anxiously,
“I know she worries, but I’m not drinking tonight. I've been sober since she moved in. Scout’s honor," he says with a light grin, holding up three fingers.
An addict isn’t an addict until they lie to you.
Nine
Foreigner’s God
Charlotte
“I’m not saying we aren’t going to win the cup this year. I’m just saying Greene is inconsistent and Petrov is getting old. He has given us great minutes in the goal, but it’s time to trade or for him to retire.”
“Petey, that’s a little pot calling the kettle black, don’t ya think? You’re no spring chicken either. Nico Jett is only a few years younger than Kai and he is playing just fine, leading the league in power-play goals at that.”
I love watching older men talk. Especially these two. Fred and Pete were regulars, one ordered a Tom Collins with a double shot of gin, and the other ordered a Manhattan. They were in their late seventies and had served in the military together.
Pete leans in close to him, “No, Freddy, but I know when to call a spade a spade, and Petrov is too old to be our number one guy in the goal.”
I slide their drinks to them.
“Boys, since when is twenty-nine old? What would that make you, fine gentlemen, ancient?” I ask with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
“Charlie, that makes you way too young. What are you now, twenty-one? And what are you doing, reading up on hockey players lately? Is that the new list you’re memorizing?” Pete questions as he mixes his drink that I have already mixed.
“No, I’m actually trying to learn Russian right now. So I’m not learning any new lists and I watch hockey!”
They give me a bored look, and at the same time say, “Since when?”
I shrug, “Like two days ago.”
Which is true! It’s maybe hard to believe but when it came to hockey, I didn’t know a lot. I never really went to Emerson’s practices or games, because I had practice or a recital. We were on opposite schedules in high school. I made it to a few games in college, but it was just a bunch of boys skating back and forth chasing a tiny ass puck.
I’d watched my first game two nights ago because the house was empty, and I was bored. So I clicked the TV on and watched the entire game. They won, and apparently, Kai had what I think is called a shutout, which I Googled and saw it meant he didn’t let anyone score.
He looked so much smaller on the screen, but he moved so quickly. You’d think his reflexes would suck because he is so big, but it’s the opposite. He is extremely agile, his head moves so fast making sure his eyes always stay on the play.
I would agree with the men in saying Emerson was inconsistent. In the beginning, he was on fire, had two goals in the first half, then he dwindled off, and not just from being tired. There was something else about it.
“Exactly, us old men have been watching hockey before you were born, Charlie.”
I roll my eyes, finding it comical that they were talking about people I knew. Neither of them knew who my brother or our roommate is.
“You’re worse than women,” I mutter jokingly as I wipe the bar off. I had another hour and a half on this shift, and the last thirty minutes I got to play music, which was the only reason I stayed here.