Smokeshow: A Hockey Love story Read online

  “I just want to fuck him, Zoya. It’s not complicated and it won’t break his heart. It might break other things, though…”

  The women howl at this and I blush all the way to the tips of my ears. I go back to my studying, trying hard to focus only on the schoolwork in front of me. But in the back of my mind, thoughts of Tyler are there. Nagging feelings of jealousy and want. Feelings I don't want to admit I have.

  “These idiots are annoying me,” I finally say to Jay. “Want to go somewhere else? I have stats in an hour and I really need to study.”

  He brightens. “I am not good at stats but yes, I would be happy to join you somewhere else, away from the Tyler Lockhardt mutual admiration club.”

  We gather our things and wander out into the bright sunlight. “The sun feels good. Want to sit outside?”

  Jay says he is “game” for anything, which I guess means sitting outside will be okay. We find a grassy spot on campus and spread out, me with my confounding statistics homework in front of me, Jay with his biology flash cards and notes.

  “Your sister is…” He stops, shaking his head.

  “Direct? A slut?”

  He chuckles. “She’s something.”

  “Yes, she is. Irina is very much about shock value, half the time. Tyler is a conquest to her, so she can say she slept with a pro-athlete. My brother will probably go ballistic if he finds out.”

  “Your brother is protective?”

  “Lately, yes. He never was before we came here. It's like my father inhabits his body now.”

  “Invasion of the body snatchers?”

  “I don't know what that means.”

  “It’s a movie…never mind. I get what you mean. Does it bother you? That your dad and brother are so protective?”

  “No, not me so much. It irks Irina, which is why she acts out so much.”

  “So, are you allowed to date?” Jay asks. His cheeks turn pink, which I find endearing.

  “I'm an adult. My father wants me to stay away from wild hockey players and the party scene, and since I don’t want a hockey boyfriend anyway, I think I should be fine.”

  He sits back, looking satisfied. I can see that he wants to try to ask me out again. And I could see it, maybe. He's very cute. All-American with his curly brown hair and pretty blue eyes. He's nice and smart. Could he be my prince charming? Maybe.

  Sadly, deep down I know different.

  No matter how I try to envision myself with a guy like Jay, who has become a good friend over these past weeks, my thoughts are already invaded by dreams of a certain hockey bad boy that I shouldn't want at all.

  Sixteen

  Tyler

  Shoulda Known

  March

  We’ve just checked in to our hotel in Boston after playing games in New York, New Jersey, and Philadelphia. I’m psyched for a hometown game. I even sent word to my old gym teacher, Mr. Gunnersen, and set him up with club seats so he could watch the game in style.

  Now, the hard call. I dial my mom’s number.

  “Hi Tyler,” she answers right away.

  “Hey, Ma. How’s it goin’?”

  “It’s been all right,” she says casually. “Got the money you sent. Still waitin’ on the welfare shysters to get their shit together, so it helps.”

  That’s the closest I’ll ever get to a thank you from her, so I’ll take it. “Good. Glad it helped. Hey, I’m in Boston for a game, and I thought I could get you and the kids some tickets. You could come cheer me on.”

  “Ah, no, I don’t have a car and I’m not loadin’ the kids up on the bus.”

  “I can send a car, Ma. Don’t worry about getting there and back.”

  “Yeah, but it ain’t just the getting’ there, is it? They’ll get there and want T-shirts and hot dogs and popcorn and it’ll be a whole big mess that I can’t afford.”

  “Ma,” I say, exasperated. “I got it. I’ll take care of all of it. Just come watch me play. The kids will like it and then we can all go out to dinner after. It’ll be something special for them and they’ll be able to say that’s my big brother out there. Just come.”

  She’s quiet for a second, then she sighs. “Okay. Fine, fine. We’ll come.”

  “Awesome.” I let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll send a car at six and they’ll drop you at Will Call. You’ll go to the window and tell them your name and then they’ll give you a packet of tickets, concession vouchers, T-shirts, and all that. Then after the game, just stay in your seats and I’ll have someone bring you to me so we can go eat. Okay?”

  “Fine, okay,” she says.

  “See you later then.”

  She hangs up without saying goodbye. Typical. At least the kids will be excited about seeing me play and get to have a fun night away from home.

  I call Vik next and ask him to put Scarlett on the line, then explain what I need from her. She’s been travelling with the team for long road trips like this one since she returned from maternity leave. They even bring a nanny and baby Alex on these trips. Somehow the three of them make it all work. Craziness indeed.

  “I didn’t know you had family here, Tyler,” she says all excited. “That’s so cool.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see. I think my little brother and sister will like it, but my ma is weird about shit like this.”

  “Well, either way, I’ll get everything ready for you down there.”

  “Thanks, Red, you’re a lifesaver.”

  Viktor gets on the line after she says goodbye and gives me shit. “What is this about little brother and sister? I have no knowledge of these children.”

  “I don’t talk about ’em,” I explain. “Half-brother and -sister. They’re real young. Four and six.”

  “This is new information, friend. I thought you were an orphan.”

  “Or demon spawn. Yeah, I got it. You’re not the first.”

  “I can meet them?”

  “We’ll see, big guy. They can be a lot. I’ll see ya later in the locker room.”

  I hang up, tense, and decide to head to the gym for a bit to blow off some steam. One of the trainers is in there and he helps me work through a light workout, so I don’t end up hurting myself before the game. I want to call Zoya. I keep thinking about her.

  Fuck it. I’m gonna call.

  I finish the workout and head to grab my bag from the room, dialing Zoya’s number as I swig some water.

  “Hello, Tyler,” she answers quickly as if she’s actually happy to hear from me. As opposed to Ma who probably answers on the first ring in case she can get more outta me.

  “Hey. Just wanted to check in on my favorite smokeshow before I go play.”

  “Boston?”

  “Yeah...” I say, and it comes out a little shaky. “I invited my ma and the kids to come. I hope it doesn’t turn into a shitshow.”

  “I'm sure it will be fine,” she says in that sweet voice that surprisingly soothes me. “Play well. Call me later if you want to talk.”

  “I will. Call you, I mean. I assume you won’t be watching?”

  “I don't watch hockey if I can help it, but I will hope for a win.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Talk to you later.”

  We hang up and I shake out my arms, trying to rid myself of these weird jitters I have going on. This is just a game, like any other game, I try to convince myself.

  It’s no big thing.

  Just another game.

  * * *

  This game is hella tight. Boston is out for blood and their right winger is on fucking fire. He’s just shot after shot on goal, blasting the puck at us. We can’t do much but try to fend him of. He’s a machine. And we knew it, because he’s been playing like this all damn season, but for whatever reason, we weren’t prepared for this tonight. Maybe we’re tired after three other games on the road, but we have got to get our asses in gear. Boris and Mikhail and Evan need to push past their brick of a center defenseman and get some puck in net, like stat.

  The buzzer goes off for the end of t
he second period and I’m drenched in sweat. I gulp down a shit-ton of Gatorade, pulling my gloves off and throwing them on the ground. Evan is yelping at everyone, shut that guy down. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. That’s all we’ve been doin’ all damn game. If the guy was a motherfucking baseball player, he’d be swinging for the fences like it’s the Home Run Derby. Fuck. Where did this kid come from?

  Plus, they’re physical as hell, which normally doesn’t bother me, but I’m honestly tryin’ not to get in a fight with my little brother and sister in the stands. My temper is hot, though, and one more check by their monstrous center forward and I will put that asshole’s head in a vise and pop it off.

  I breathe in, and blow out, several times, trying to center my brain. We’re tied one-one heading into the third period. I’m sure as hell not goin’ down without a fight.

  We head back out, refocused, and about three minutes in, I see an opening to the Ice Dragon. I hang on to the puck long enough to fake like I’m going to pass it to Evan, but I wing it past him over to Boris, who chucks it right into goal. Fuck yeah, an assist! Boris and I high-five, our ugly mugs up on the jumbotron for all to see.

  Our second score of the period comes on a power play resulting from a big fight between that center and Mikhail. We’re up a player and we use the advantage, Evan taking us to three-two just two minutes before the buzzer ends the game.

  The Boston crowd is not happy, though there are a few chants for “Lockhardt” since it’s known that I’m a Beantown native.

  We do a few press snippets and then head to the locker room. I chuck my contacts, which are burning because of the sweating I’m doing, and head for a shower. Once I’m dressed and have found my glasses buried deep in my gym bag, I look at my phone, ready to call to meet up with Ma and the kids for dinner. I looked for them in the stands throughout the game, but it was impossible to pick them out in the crowd.

  I wander out in the hallway, expecting to see familiar faces waiting, but they’re nowhere to be found. What I do find is a stressed-out looking Scarlett, who grabs my arm and pulls me off, away from the crowd.

  “What’s up, Red? Did you find my family?”

  She cringes.

  “What?”

  “Um…I don’t really know how to tell you this—”

  “Just spit it out. Are they okay?”

  She lets out a shaky breath. “I went out to meet your mom at the gate, thought I’d get a little picture or something for social media, you know? Will Call told me she’d just been in and picked up the packet, so I walked outside, hoping to find her, and there was a big commotion on the street corner right in front of The Garden. Turns out, your mother tried to scalp the tickets, the vouchers and merch. The police came and they ended up searching her...and they—they found—d-drug paraphernalia…”

  My stomach is on the floor. What the actual fuck?

  “I guess it turned into an altercation, so they cuffed her and threw her in one cruiser, then loaded the kids into a second car.” Scarlett is near to tears, now.

  “Fuuuuck.” It’s all I can think to say.

  “I’m so sorry, Tyler. I tried to get the cops to leave them all with me, but with the drugs…they said they had to arrest her. I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to mess up your game.”

  “It’s not your fault, Red. This is why I don’t talk to folks about my family. This is who my mother is.” How could she fucking do this? “Do you... do you know what’s going to happen to the kids?”

  Scarlett is crying openly, now, obviously deeply affected by the whole scene she witnessed. Been there, Red. Bought the T-shirt and everything.

  I pull her into a hug and remind her again and again that this isn’t her fault. She has nothing to be sorry for. I thank her for keeping the whole fucked-up mess as discreet as possible before the start of the game.

  Through sad tears, she tells me she just wants to go hold her baby.

  I don’t blame her.

  Me? I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch a hole in something more than I do at this moment.

  I should have known.

  I should have fucking known this would happen.

  Seventeen

  Zoya

  HIT ME WITH IT

  Have I mentioned how much I hate statistics? Well, let me mention it again, because it frustrates me to no end. What will I ever do with this knowledge, please tell me.

  My phone rings and I startle at the intrusion. It’s nearly midnight so I know it must be Tyler, post-game.

  “Hey there, BFF,” I answer, happy to hear from him. “Did you win?”

  “We did. Tight, tough game.”

  “Oh, good. But sorry it was a tough game. You sound tired.”

  “I’m fuckin’ exhausted,” he barks. Then quickly followed by, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice and it wasn’t directed at you.”

  “It's all right. Do you need to talk? How was your time with your family?”

  “Ahhh…” I can hear frustration in his every word. “I didn’t see them.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “Because my fucking mother not only brought drugs to the game, but tried to hawk the tickets and merch I’d set aside for her and the kids. Right in front of the arena. In my hometown.” I don’t know Tyler very well, but the anger I can hear in his voice worries me.

  “She tried to sell all the things you had for her and the kids? I’m so sorry.” I know the words don’t do much to help, but I want him to know I care.

  He then launches into telling me that his mom was arrested for drug possession. He says Scarlett, his teammate’s wife, tried to help, and now she’s really upset. “I just feel sick, ya know?”

  “Yeah. I’m not surprised,” I say sadly.

  “And the worst thing, Zoya, is that my little brother and sister had to see that shit. They had to watch her get in an altercation with the cops, then they got loaded up in a cop car and taken to who the hell knows where. It’s so fuckin’ frustrating. I had this fun night planned for them and then she goes and shits on it. Every time, Zoya. Every fucking time.”

  “I am so sorry, Tyler.” My heart just breaks for him.

  “I should’ve known she was lying about being better. I should’ve known she’d make this about money, or making money, or whatever. And now I’m really worried about Haley and Logan. They’re little, Zo. They shouldn’t be around this shit.”

  “Maybe you could go to the police station and tell them you are their brother. Maybe the kids could come to the hotel with you for at least the night while things get sorted out? Is there someone you can call to help you with it?”

  Tyler is quiet for a long time. “You know, I think I will call my lawyer and see what he can arrange. Thanks.”

  “No problem. That’s what friends are for.”

  “Yeah, okay, buddy,” he says. I can hear humor in his voice like he's trying hard to shake off the awfulness of his night. I suppose I already know that friendship isn't all he wants from me. And I'm stressing about it because I need to hold him at arm’s length. I cannot fall for him. It's not what I want in the long-term. “What are you doing? Sorry, I shit on you with all my problems tonight,” he says sadly.

  “It's okay. Your problem is much more important than mine.”

  “Which is?”

  “Statistics. I hate it.”

  “Well, Smokeshow, it’s your lucky night. I'm damn good at stats, thank you very much. Read me the problem you’re workin’ on.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. It’ll help me calm down from all this bullshit for a minute. Hit me with it.”

  I read the problem, and he talks me through every step. The way he explains it makes so much more sense than what I read in the book. We finish one problem, then do a few more. After an hour, my assignment is done, and I feel ten times lighter.

  “I need you every day to help me with this stuff. Oh my God, thank you so much.”

  “Does it make more sense now?”


  “Yes. My father told me I could get a tutor, and now I see how having someone who knows this can help me, I might just do that.”

  He scoffs on the other end of the line. “Why would you pay a tutor when you could just ask me?”

  “Well, you are busy playing hockey you know.”

  “Never too busy for my BFF. You need help and I’m gonna give it to you. Fun fact—I worked under the table for a sports bookie when I was a kid. I got really good at doing the stats.”

  “Well, I guess you should put that power to a good purpose, then.”

  “What’s in it for me, Zo?”

  “My undying friendship and loyalty.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize I’m not feeling them with any sort of conviction anymore because I wish I could tell him it was more.

  He blows a raspberry. “Blah. Okay, I mean, I guess if that’s all…”

  “It’s all.” For now.

  “Anything for you, Smokeshow. Thanks for the talk. And the idea. I gotta go take care of this shit now. Call you tomorrow with an update.”

  He seems marginally happier when we hang up and it makes me feel good to know I helped him, even if only a little. Still, I worry about him and his family and what he has to do now to try and make things better for his young siblings. God, so very young. His head must be spinning. And I feel so useless, especially given he is literally on the other side of the country and I can do nothing to help. I have nothing to offer him, and that brings stress to my heart.

  It also makes me wonder just how Tyler Lockhardt got past my defenses and into my heart so quickly.

  Because you know he has.

  Eighteen

  Tyler

  IN THE F#CKING WORLD

  I pace the floor of my hotel room and stress the fuck out. Could I really go down to the station and pick up my little brother and sister, just like that? And if I did, what would I do with them? I’m supposed to head back to Vegas tomorrow.