Will’s ears and cheeks turn pink as he drums his fingers on the table. “I have loved living life as a thespian this week, but my plans for next year are out of my hands,” he says, alluding to the fact that there’s a good chance he’ll be called up to the pros before next school year starts. “If I’m sharing the ice with you guys again, then yeah, I think we need to find a place that can hold us all.”
Booker, Kersey, and Rosco lean back in their chairs. They’ve never lived at the Hockey House, and they’re all graduating, so they’re taking themselves out of the vote, too, since, like me, they have no stake in it.
But Mickey does, and I can tell by the way his leg is bouncing that he’s anxious about not having a definite place to live next year. “There’s no question, guys. We have to get a place together, but how the hell are we gonna pull that off. The college is gonna force us back into the dorms unless we can afford to buy a place but come the fuck on. We can’t even have jobs during the season. How the hell are we buying a house?”
“Shouldn’t we have rich alumni donors who want taxbreaks?” Dean asks. “We need some former player who made it big to come through for us.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” Van says. “The most famous grad we have now is Doug, and he could definitely buy us a house plant, but an actual house? Yeah, no. Besides, Coach is tapping all the donors to fund upgrades to the arena and the locker room.”
The table goes quiet as we all munch on our wings. Mickey tosses some chicken bones in an empty basket as he looks up, waving his hand like he’s a fourth grader who just figured out the answer.
“Mikalski, say your piece,” Ollie directs, and I swear he’s gonna carry that makeshift gavel everywhere from now on.
“We could all work as strippers this summer,” he says, proud of himself for finding the perfect solution, but Ollie’s already shaking his head.
“MyFans all the way, man, but you gotta be careful. I show my face in one of the videos and the college will have a fucking fit.”
Mickey looks defeated until JT pipes up. “You guys might have something there,” he says.
Ollie just shakes his head. “Daddy porn is a thing. I get that. But your girl is what, six months pregnant. That does not automatically qualify you, dude.”
“Fuck you,” JT returns with a grin. “You guys know Maggie’s best friend, Viv, right? She’s always yapping about how we should all be in a calendar. It’s cheesy, I know, but it could be a moneymaker.”
“Vivian McDonald is a certified genius,” Mickey declares, admiration in his tone. We do a charity calendar. And we’re the charity. “
The guys are going a mile a minute and Dean’s saying something about feather boas when a piercing whistle ringsthrough the air. All eyes turn to Rosco, who’s still got his fingers hooked in his bottom lip.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Van says. “You gotta teach me that.”
Rosco nods absently, but then he turns to Ollie. “Look, this doesn’t really involve me, but are you sure you guys will qualify as a charity? The team’s not a 403-C, so I’m not sure it’s gonna work. Just thought I’d put that out there.”
Dean sets his soda down on the worn table. “What if we make up a charity? That’ll get us around the tax rules, right?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s called fraud,” I interject.
“Besides,” Kersey says, looking up from his phone, “it’s the wrong time of year to buy a calendar.”
“Dude, it’s January,” Ollie says, as though his point is obvious.
“Exactly,” Kersey agrees. “People have already bought their calendars. You should really look at marketing it for next fall.”
“Easy for you to say, Kersey. You’re graduating. Where are we supposed to live?” Dean grumbles.
Our backup goalie lifts his hands in surrender. “People like to start the year with a calendar. They’re not likely to switch horses midstream, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Dude, I never know what you’re saying, but I’m pretty sure nobody’s gonna be buying this calendar to log their dentist appointments and holiday gatherings. This is not that type of calendar.”
Ollie nods and offers Dean a high-five. “Okay, so, sounds like we are moving forward with the calendar. Let’s arrange a meeting to talk theme. What time is good for everybody?”
“Breakfast tomorrow works for me. My mom sent meback with a case of those blueberry waffles and a shit-ton of pancake sammies. So, the breakfast nook at nine?”
Ollie nods, but Kersey shakes his head. He hasn’t learned that you just have to let these guys do their thing. Resistance and logic never work. “Where’s the Breakfast Nook? Is that a new diner?”
“No,” Ollie says, popping a garlic knot in his mouth. “it’s literally our breakfast nook. In our suite. Which is so fucking sweet. You guys should come over.”
“I’ve got class at nine,” Kersey says, standing. “And while I’d love to debate the legalities of your calendar, I’m picking up Sophie so we can meet with a deejay. See you at practice.” He throws down a few bills to cover his portion and heads out the door. It’s funny because he signed on to Bainbridge months before I even applied. Playing hockey for the Wolves was always part of his plan and I changed lanes at the last minute. And yet, four years later, the guys at this table are like my brothers. Kaden never really bonded with anyone but me and maybe Rosco, but that’s because he spends every spare minute with his girlfriend. Sorry, his fiancé. I keep forgetting they’re getting married this summer.
Conversation turns to our game next weekend and as our server clears our table, I shoot a text to my brothers.
