As predicted, the team’s third jerseys got roundly criticized in the press, among the fans, and especially by the other NHL teams. So far, it had been one pig joke after another. The team was routinely being called the San Francisco Swine.
They were deep into the third period in a game against Buffalo and the Dragons were ahead by two, which was why the wisecracks were coming with more frequency.
“Time to drop the pork—I mean puck!”
The player from the opposing team guffawed as he took his place across from Cam at the faceoff dot.
“For shit’s sake,” Cam said disgustedly. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“Yeah, come on, Eriksen, you’re so boaring.”
That came from the linesman.
“Everyone thinks they’re a comedian,” Noah Brinkworth muttered. “Let’s get on with it.”
Cam chomped down hard on his mouth guard as he squatted, his stick at the ready. The puck dropped and he locked up his opponent’s stick while Brinks darted forward and snatched the puck away. Cam laughed as the Dragons brought it through the neutral zone, chipped it in. Neat as you please, Ian Zappala set up a screen so that when Yale passed to him and Cam slapped it toward the net, all Zapper had to do was jump out of the way.
Score.
The Dragons won, of course. Thank God. Cam didn’t think he’d have been able to stand it if they’d had to take all that idiotic harassment and lose the game too.
He cooled down on the bike, chugged a sports drink, showered and headed to the training room to get some ice on his knee. He’d bent it a little strangely during a pile-up near the goal in the last period. Yale Baxter was in there on one of the tables getting a massage. Max Stone was getting his wrist examined.
“Nice goal, Cam,” Yale said, after Cam was settled on the table adjacent.
“Thanks. It only happened because of your sweet pass. Right on the tape, baby, just the way I like it.”
“Helps that you had your stick on the ice for me to aim at.”
Yale held his hand up and Cam high fived him.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Max said. “Why don’t you two just kiss and get it over with?”
They all laughed.
A rookie poked his head in. “Hey, how long a wait for a massage?”
“Twenty minutes,” the trainer said.
“Okay. Be back in twenty.”
As Max took a seat against the opposite wall, Cam said, “You know, just for the record, if I were gay and wanted to have an affair with one of my teammates, it wouldn’t be Yale.”
“Really?” Max raised a brow. “Who then?”
“Huh. Good question.” Cam thought about it. “Probably Zapper.”
Ian Zappala was easily the best looking guy on the team, evidenced by the fact that he was an underwear model. There were billboards all over the city of him wearing only tighty-whities.
Yale groaned. “Oh, Jesus. You guys are not seriously doing this.”
Cam ignored him. “What about you, Stoner? Who would you do?”
Max stared at the ceiling, clearly considering his options. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe Luc.”
“Luc?” Cam asked. “Why him?”
“You really want to know?” Max glanced over. “He’s got the least body hair.”
Cam barked out a laugh.
Yale mumbled something as the trainer worked on his lower back.
“What’s that, Yale?” Cam asked. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
Yale’s tone was part snippy, part dejected. “I said, what’s wrong with me? Why didn’t either of you pick me?”
Max looked at Cam.
Cam looked at Max.
“Someone got their feewings huht,” Max said in a baby sing-song voice.
In a sudden lunge, Yale grabbed and threw a rolled up Ace bandage at him. Max laughed and shot it back, nailing one of the trainers right in the head which made him curse.
“What’s going on?” Luc Martel asked, pausing by the open door. He had a towel around his waist.
Laughing, Cam nodded toward Luc and said, “Now’s your chance, Stoner.”
“Fuck you, Cam,” Max said, his face turning red. “Never mind, Luc. Go about your business. Nothing to see here.”
Luc shrugged and went on his way.
“Speaking of affairs,” Yale said, still chuckling, “how are things going with your sexy maid?”
“Her name is Dakota,” Cam said, his jovial mood wiped out. “And they’re going nowhere.”
He gave them a rundown of the situation with Ellen, the lawyers and how Dakota didn’t want to risk losing Zinny.
“So we have to keep up appearances for a while.”
“How long?” Yale asked.
“I don’t really know.”
“But can’t you just, you know, keep it on the down low?” Max asked. “I mean, they can’t know what you do in the privacy of your own bedroom.”
“I don’t know about that. The lawyer told us they’re pretty hard core, that they can come in and inspect the house, looking for evidence.”
“Shit,” Yale said.
“I still think maybe you could get away with it,” Max said. “You’d just have to be super careful. Change the sheets right away or do it on the floor or something. Get rid of the condoms like in your neighbor’s trash can.”
“Clearly, you’re a romantic,” Yale said.
“I am not putting used condoms in my neighbors’ trash can,” Cam said. “Jesus.”
“I’m just trying to help,” Max said. “The good news is, she’s into you. So, it’s just a matter of time. Good things come to those who—what’s that look? She’s not into you?”
“I don’t know. She is attracted to me. She admitted to that much, but when I told her I wanted to be more than friends, she said she didn’t feel the same way. But I don’t believe her.”
“Hey, no means no, buddy,” Yale said. “In this day and age, you can’t be too careful.”
“Fuck you, Yale. I know no means no, for fuck’s sake. But I also know there’s more between us than sexual attraction. There’s real chemistry going on.”
Every night he lay in his room, knowing she was just upstairs. He found himself imagining her in bed, wearing those damned unicorn pajamas. He could still conjure up a crystal clear image of how her pajama top had clung to her braless breasts and the faint nipple outline. He fantasized about going up there and pulling a caveman move—carrying her back downstairs with him, tossing her on his bed and showing her what she was missing.
Remembering how hard she’d kissed him back that night in the kitchen, he imagined her response in bed would be just as, if not more, passionate. He thought about how her ass would feel in his hands, how her nipples would harden between his lips as he sucked on her.
And he jerked off while doing it. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t know any other way to alleviate his sexual and emotional frustration. What made it even worse was he could only blame himself. He’d created this shitty little prick-teasing situation and the only thing he could do about it was suffer in silence.
A line had been drawn and he could not under any circumstances cross it. If he did, she said she’d quit.
Yale’s massage was over, so he sat up and draped the towel over his groin. “Well, don’t give up hope. There are things you can do to communicate your feelings without being sexual about it. Just do everything you’d normally do for a girlfriend except the sex.”
“My wife really likes it when I do the dishes,” the trainer said. “And if I wipe the counters and the stovetop, I’m almost guaranteed a roll in the hay.”
All three players turned to look at him. Cam was embarrassed he’d forgotten the guy was in the room. The staff tended to fade into the background.
“She’s my housekeeper,” Cam said. “It’s her job to do the dishes.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the trainer said. “People like it when other people are thoughtful like that. Martel neatens up his stall after the games. The equipment guys really appreciate that.”
Cam considered this. “So fake it ’til I make it?”
Yale pointed at him. “Bingo. Or, hey, here’s a novel idea. Take the woman out somewhere on a date.”
“Yeah,” Max said. “You know, where you go pick her up, you go to a restaurant—”
“Shut up, Stoner. I know what a date is.”
Max laughed. “Just checking.”
Maybe they had a point. The idea of…well, courting her like a gentleman had merit. He thought he’d given it his best shot when he’d told her all the things he admired about her, but maybe she was one of those people who didn’t or couldn’t hear nice things about themselves. Maybe she needed to be shown that he cared, because he did care. A lot. When he thought about her not being in his life, he got a nervous, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Which was uncomfortable in and of itself.