“Quad! That’s four!” Milo’s voice echoed off the walls of the rink.
Tom Alan held Erika in the crook of his elbow as they raced across in front of him. They turned together, and Erika tapped her toe pick into the ice half a second before Tom Alan flung her across it.
“One, two, threeeeee.”
Erika caught Milo’s grimace as she came down on her hip. “Shoot!”
“One more try?” Tom Alan held out his hand as he skidded to a stop beside her. “Nana korobo ya oki.” Fall down seven times, get up eight. It had been another of Nobuo Tsuchino’s favorites.
“I guess.”
“You guess.” Tom Alan swiped the smirk off his face with the hem of his undershirt, tending to an abundance of sweat along with it. “That’s my line.”
“Less talking, more jumping,” Milo said. Their coaches were away. Erika’s mother, Kyoko, was off in Japan, and though Irina Mischen, their other trainer, had moved downstate specifically to work with the pair, she was still an hour away, and did not come down every day. Milo was pretending to fill the role. “Hop to it, love, then we’ll break for lunch.” His silly demeanor and epithets like “love” took away a bit of his authority. “Your synchronicity’s a wee bit off.”
“On it, coach.” Tom Alan smiled.
They were working hard to get the quadruple flip back in time for Skate America in the fall. Unfortunately, the final try was the worst of all, as Erika landed on her butt once again. “Fuck!”
“Language, Flower.”
“Sorry, Mr. Fisher.” She flipped him off.
“We have company,” Tom Alan said, skating over to help her up again.
Billy stood with Kensuke and an additional person in one corner of the rink, maybe Jesse.
“Tom.” It often seemed intentional with Billy, especially when he and Tom Alan came face to face.
“Willie.” Tom Alan offered his pat retort.
“Sorry for the cursing.” Erika rolled her eyes as she turned to the kids.
“No worries,” Kensuke said. “I’ve uttered worse.”
Billy made the introductions. “Erika, Kensuke Sato. Kensuke—”
“I know who she is, coach. Damn, girl! You’re even more gorgeous than last night.”
Erika felt the heat rising in her cheeks. He was charming—and also a liar. Her hair pulled back, red and sweaty from exertion, she was anything but. “Say hi to Tom Alan.”
“Hey.” Tom Alan offered his hand. Kensuke’s eyes zeroed in on the bulge in his damp, light gray sweatpants instead.
“This is Jesse,” Billy offered.
“Hey, Jesse.”
“Hey.” The girl continued to cling to Kensuke. She was rail thin, and her blonde hair streaked with green was pulled back in a messy ponytail. An olive shirt hung down almost to her knees and her long, thin, denim clad legs were never still as she slid one foot and then the other back and forth on the ice.
“You want to take a couple of laps around the rink?” Tom Alan asked.
“What do you say, my lady?” Kensuke put his arm around Jesse, and she molded his hip to hers.
“I guess.” She seemed a bit shy, except for the way her hand was once again on Kensuke’s ass, doubtfully for the purpose of maintaining balance.
“Did you bring skates?” Erika asked.
“In the truck.” Billy leaned against the railing with a sleeping Etsuko in his arms. “Take the baby.” He handed her gently off to Milo, then headed out the door.
“Milo Fisher!” Kensuke pointed at him, stealing another look at another crotch. “I watched you guys at The Games. Mostly you guys.” He seemed to prefer Tom Alan’s. “Every competition you were ever in, actually. Well, as seniors. I’d have been a figure skater myself if it wasn’t so gay.” He pulled his fitted, red hoodie from his broad chest, a show of machismo, Erika presumed.
“Kensuke!”
“What?” Kensuke raised both palms. “It’s not a bad thing if it’s true, Jess.”
“The vast majority of male figure skaters competing today identify as straight.” Erika said. “That includes solo, pairs, and dance, just FYI. And I can only assume there are gay professional…I don’t know…rugby players.”
“Name one,” Kensuke challenged.
“She couldn’t name a straight one,” Tom Alan said.
“I’m going to the Olympics, yo. Then the NHL.” Standing proudly, his wide shoulders squared, he radiated confidence, even as Jesse seemed to shrink into herself. “Then maybe Hollywood.” He had an alluring, magnetic grin with a childlike exuberance that softened the ego and brashness.
“We know some people,” Tom Alan said. “Potential players for 2018. Maybe we can introduce you, even get a game going.”
“Sick!”
“Jesse? There’s a women’s team. Some of the 2014 players are friends?” Erika tried for eye contact, while Jesse seemed to prefer staring at the ice.
“Pass.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“When?” Kensuke asked. He directed everything he said toward Tom Alan, though rarely any part of him above the waist.
“Umm…next weekend, maybe?” Tom Alan said.
“Sweet! You know a lot of famous people, I bet, huh, Mr. Baranowski?” Mr. Baranowski. The kid was laying it on pretty thick. “Like Ben Thornton. I’ve seen you guys together on the skating and gymnastics thing on TV every year.”
“Ben and I are pretty good friends.” They were best friends. “And call me Tom Alan…please.”
“Cool. Tom Alan.” Kensuke bounced excitedly. “I can’t wait to see him in Rio next month. You going?”
“Maybe.”
Milo said, “No.”
Tom Alan had been asked to do a couple of spots for NBC—informal, touristy things for social media. Any sort of infamy trumped seasons when it came to TV ratings, apparently.
“Five days,” Tom Alan argued, and not for the first time. “We go down, we hang out on the beach, get some video on my cellphone, watch Ben and the team, and come home.”
“Home, love…that’s what this summer was supposed to be about. Home and training.”
“Being together…that’s what it’s about, Milo. Here, there, what’s the difference?”
“You should get with Ben Thornton,” Kensuke said. “That’d be hot.”
Milo stared at the kid, his mouth agape.
“I’m with Milo.” Tom Alan draped an arm across his shoulder. “And Ben’s married.”
“Adam Stoker. I know.”
When Kensuke licked his lips, Erika had a feeling his mind had gone to Adam’s X-rated acting debut, the one he might never live down.
“Pig.” Jesse knew where his thoughts were. She scowled, but then chuckled, just as Billy returned with the skates. “You think we can meet him, too?” Jesse finally put more than three words together.
“Adam? I don’t see why not,” Tom Alan said.
Kensuke followed his idol around like a shadow, during what was supposed to be break time, stretching and flourishing like no hockey player ever did. Erika and Jesse took slower laps, while Billy had the baby again on the sidelines and Milo stood beside them in the “pissed off woman stance.”
“So…” Erika decided to be a little bit nosy. “Are you and Kensuke, um, dating?” she asked.
A burst of laughter rang out as Tom Alan lifted Kensuke off the ice, interrupting any answer Jesse might have offered. Several girly giggles, giggles and twirls with Kensuke in the air. Erika chastised herself for the ‘girly’ bit as she took note of the look on Jesse’s face. Whatever her relationship with Kensuke was, something about him and Tom Alan having so much fun wasn’t sitting well. Milo, at the railing, gave off much the same vibe.
“Throw me!” Kensuke hollered excitedly.
“Yeah?”
“Tom Alan.” Erika felt the need to be the voice of reason.
“I wasn’t going to.” Tom Alan, it seemed, felt the need to whine like a child.
“Better bloody not be throwing no one but me,” Milo muttered.
Erika gave him side-eye.
“And you.”
“Come on!” Kensuke wouldn’t give up. “Not hard. I just want to know what it feels like.”
“I bet,” Jesse mumbled.
“Tom Alan is supposed to be on a break,” Milo snapped.
“Just once. Lighten up, One Direction.”
Billy barked. “One Direction.”
Erika still fought off a girly giggle of her own, even though Milo looked more like a short, muscled Redford to her.
“One time,” Kensuke repeated, “and I won’t bug him no more.”
“Anymore.” Dang it! How did Erika become the disciplinarian?
“Okay,” Tom Alan said, “but not hard.”
“I’m pretty sure he is,” Milo grumbled. Erika had thought pretty much the same thing.
“You don’t have a toe pick. So don’t even try to land on one foot.”
“Tom Alan…”
“I’ll be careful, Kiki,” he said.
“Chill, Rika. Let them play.”
Billy took the men’s side, what a shock. Men always stuck together—except when it came to Erika’s nickname. Billy had addressed her as “Kiki” only once. Tom Alan wouldn’t stand for it. “That’s what I call her.” He’d been quite territorial, quite the brute, back when he’d caught Erika sneaking out of Billy and Milo’s apartment weeks before their arranged marriage.
“Kensuke can take a fall or two.”
Erika actually preferred it when they fought over her.
“Don’t you need to get to class, Hockey Puck?” Milo took her side.
“Yeah. I better head out. Go to mommy.” He offered Etsuko and a kiss on the cheek. “I hate to miss the end of this little lovers’ spat, but we’re removing a rat’s liver today. Don’t wanna miss that either.” He offered Milo a gentle punch in the shoulder. “Hold onto your man, Booger.” Then Erika watched as he walked away. Billy’s scrubs were tight. He might have gained a little weight. God, she wanted him. Tearing herself away, she looked back just as Tom Alan and Kensuke circled past, all cozy and gleeful side by side. She couldn’t hold back her grin, looking at Milo and his scowl, until she looked at Jesse. Milo was a grown man. Jesse, pivoting on one blade to follow the action, was a kid.
“Ready?” Tom Alan asked.
Erika was surprised they hadn’t tripped over one another. Skating that close to someone else was not easy. Add an arm around the middle, and it was damned near impossible for such a novice. Erika hadn’t seen anyone take to it so quickly since the day she’d first met Tom Alan back in 2002.
“Do it, dude!”
“On three. One, two—”
An excited shriek from Kensuke interrupted the count.
“Three.” Tom Alan threw him. Kensuke made a single revolution and actually landed flat on both blades. He held it, Erika was certain he did, but then he dropped to his knees.
“Motherfucker!”
Tom Alan kicked up snow as he slid up next to him. His whole face was laughing, and when he pumped his fist in the air, half of his shiny, wet torso was bared.
“Thanks, yo! That was fucking awesome!” Kensuke bellowed.
“You’re not too old to give figure skating a shot. Maybe not the Olympics, but at some level. How about you?” Tom Alan directed his dopey, precious smile at Jesse. “You want to try?”
“Pass.”
“I wouldn’t get to do that, even if I did,” Kensuke said. He crossed the ice on his knees, stopping in front of Tom Alan as if he might consider thanking him some more from that position.
“That’s enough.” Milo stepped between them. “The shape your quad is in, you need practice time, not fun time.”
Tom Alan looked at him. “For real?”
Milo’s lips never parted.
“We should eat,” Erika said. “Want to join us, Jesse? I brought sushi.”
“Pass.”
They dined while chatting. Erika pulled up the YouTube video of Milo from Sochi. “Maybe seeing it again will help us find the finesse we still haven’t captured,” she said, waiting through the spinning circle. Erika watched Kensuke and Jesse for reactions.
“Love is…frustrating. It’s natural. It’s certainly not controllable,” Milo said through the speaker on Erika’s phone. “Did I mention frustrating?”
“He was talking about me at the beginning,” Tom Alan said with a shrug.
“About us,” Milo amended.
“I’ve seen it!” Jesse showed exuberance for the first time since her arrival. “It’s kind of incredible.”
“I was told several times that the Olympic Games are not a place to bring up one’s political beliefs,” Milo had continued at the press conference following the free dance. “I can respect that. But this isn’t about politics, is it? This is about humanity. We go to places where we don’t agree with policy, but how can we go to places where people commit crimes against one another and not speak up? We have, of course. Some have refused to go. But sometimes we go and stay silent. How do we decide? Who decides? I’m not proud that I’m not the one making my own choices. I’m not proud that I often feel guilty about not saying, ‘Wait. This isn’t right.’ If I can’t speak against something, I can definitely speak up for someone. Listen to me. For what it’s worth, from one gay human being to another, believe my words. You are brave. You are good. You are fine. You are exactly what you were meant to be. You will love who you were meant to love. And though love is all of those things I said, love is worth it. It is a human emotion, and you are no less human than anyone else around you. Love is not easy. I’m sorry…I am truly, bloody sorry…that heartbreak and uncertainty and struggling with your emotions is the easiest part of falling in love for you. That isn’t fair.”
Tom Alan was listening as if he was hearing it all for the very first time. The kids seemed riveted, too.
“If this message touches you someplace because you know I am speaking to you, I want you to be okay. It is okay—what you’re feeling. You are okay. You are not an abomination or someone children need protection from. You are men and women, like me, who should be able to live as freely as I do, with just the occasional slur, or the tsk-tsk, or snicker. I am gay. I just skated at The Olympic Games as a guest in your country. Other gay people will excel at their sport as well. Some will tell you they are gay, and some will not. They got here through hard work. And they’ll go home and lead productive lives, experience happiness, sadness, good times and rough times, just like everyone else. Every human being deserves a chance. You should be able to walk the streets of the place you live without fear of getting your head bashed in. It’s not okay what’s happening here, but you are. You’re okay the way you are.”
“There was fallout,” Tom Alan said as the video ended. “The speech was blacked out in certain countries and Milo’s social media accounts had as many negative comments as positive ones on the first day. By the second, the tide turned, but many still felt choosing to speak at The Games was inappropriate.”
“I don’t,” Jesse said.
“Our ‘Sounds of Silence’ routine…all about words…it was his idea,” Tom Alan said, full of love, “not just because of this, but also for what’s been going on right here…shootings and hate of all kinds.”
“We’re saying something every time we skate,” Erika added. “We hope we are, about how words hurt or how they help, how silence is often detrimental, too. Sometimes people need to know someone cares. Milo did a lot of the choreography.”
“That’s really cool.” Jesse looked at Milo with stars in her eyes.
“Oh…I’m nothing special,” he said.
Kensuke agreed. He was ready to move on. “You should do an Ani and Otouto video, Tom Alan.” Naturally, he was obsessed with the anime duo Tom Alan had created and published. The comic had a small but rabid following in the U.S. and was a bestseller in Japan. “It’d get, like, a million more hits than that. I know this underground metal band. Their stuff would be perfect in the background. Forbidden Fruit. They’re sick!”
Forbidden Fruit was certainly an apt mention given the blatant flirting. Erika wondered if they were the purveyors of that rousing tune about gold blood and steel sex organs Kensuke had sung at the restaurant.
“Jess and I are going to see them this winter.”
“If my grandma lets me,” Jesse said.
“We’ll get around her.” Kensuke waved his hand. “I can pretty much wrap anyone around this finger.” He held up the middle one, then closed his other hand around it, stroking it a few times. Tom Alan’s smirked as he chewed his turkey on rye. His sometimes-crippling reserve had easily been overtaken by sophomoric male bonding.
“What do you do nowadays, One Direction? Make things back home with these guys threesies ‘stead of twosies?”
Milo glared at the kid. “I’m a shrink. I get into people’s heads and discover things, like how being a smart-ass is basically a cover for profound insecurities.”
“Tight.” The sarcasm had gone right over Kensuke’s, as he snatched a hunk of Tom Alan’s sandwich.
* * * *
The teens took off once lunch was over, and Tom Alan and Erika got back to work. They were partway around the rink, in hold, when she just had to give it to him, despite how much she loved being close to him. “You big, clueless jerk.”
“Ow, Kiki!” Tom Alan rubbed his chest where Erika had smacked him as he tried to create beautiful lines. “What’d I do?” He caught himself against the rail, where Milo stood changing Etsuko’s nappy.
“You know bloody well what you did.” Certain Tom Alan and Erika would train just as hard without him about, Milo was preparing to take her home for a nap. The setup ran like a well-oiled machine, the family and Billy scheduling school, practice, and Etsuko’s pick-ups and drop offs to the second, depending on who was going to be home and free. “Doesn’t he, Little Red?”
“I really don’t.”
“In a word, love, Kensuke.”
“What about him?”
“He wants to cheat on his girlfriend,” Erika said.
“He’s got a girlfriend?”
“Jesse.” She almost hit him again. “Billy and I are pretty sure she thinks of herself that way, even if he doesn’t.”
“Kens-what’s-it’s a fancy for sure, Skater Boy.”
“I would probably agree.”
“One who fancies you, even without you leading him on.” Milo and Erika were becoming fast allies.
“How was I leading him on?”
“By laughing at his sexual innuendo,” she said, helping to pack the diaper bag. “It’s as if you all regress to twelve-year-olds when congregating as a herd.”
Tom Alan hesitated, then conceded, “Maybe.”
“Boundaries,” she told him, dragging out the word. “Be a role model.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that.” As if to prove it, he belched, an after effect of his Diet Coke.
“Did he have an e-r-e-c-t-i-o-n when you threw him?”
“Milo!”
“My willie was stiff when you chucked me the first time.”
“That was different,” Tom Alan said. “That was love at first sight.” He went in for a kiss Milo shunned.
“Maybe for him, too.”
“You’re really jealous?”
“More perturbed. The kid’s dodgy.”
“That’s not my fault. Neither is his stiff…ness. Not that I looked.”
“He couldn’t take his eyes off yours,” Erika said.
“Can’t blame him there, Flower. It’s a beaut.” Milo offered a kiss, on his terms, as he spoke against Tom Alan’s lips. “But it’s mine, I tell ya. All mine.”
They kissed three times—smack, smack, smack. “Of course it is.”
“And remember,” Erika did the same to Etsuko, “this was supposed to be about Jesse.”
“Well, we did what we said we’d do,” Tom Alan stated. “We met with them and I’ll call Phil and Thyme and set things up for some hockey practice or whatever. Other than that, if you’re right—”
“Oh, we’re right,” Milo declared.
“Then we’ll just back off. Kensuke’s love life is really none of our business. Heck, we’ll probably never even hear from him again, anyway.”
Tom Alan’s phone rang. “Oh. It’s him.”
“‘Never’ don’t last as long as it used to, I guess. What’s the tosser want?”
“‘Dude, I’ll go to Rio with you,’” Erika read over Tom Alan’s shoulder. “‘Just you and me. Leave the chicks and your BF at home.’” Her hand stung after smacking Tom Alan’s hard pec again.
“Ow!”
“Jerk.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“I ask but one favor,” Milo said dramatically.
“What?” The tone made Tom Alan glower.
“If our love is fated for tragedy, if you’re going to leave me for a high schooler…please do it while I’m young enough to rebound.”