Page 10 of Two for Holding
“Seriously?”Jax shook his head.“You’re only one player.San Francisco hasn’t won a Cup because it took ten years for management to build a decent team.”
“This team has been around for thirteen years.”Tom would know.He’d been there for every unlucky second, barring the four weeks in February 2016 when he’d sprained his wrist and the team hadn’t made the playoffs for the fourth year running.He’d stuck it out through every other strain and tear, relying on anti-inflammatories and ice baths and his own lack of a life outside of work.
“Yeah, and your offensive coach is shit, your defensive coach is a maniac, and the special teams are a mess.”
“Our.”
“What?”
“It’souroffensive coach,ourdefensive coach, andourspecial teams.Aren’t you here to fix all of our problems and save the team?”
“You have got to work on your self-esteem.Move over; you’re really shit at this.”Jax hip-checked Tom away from the cutting board, which didn’t help with the achy hip situation or the self-esteem, and proceeded to chop the remaining six peppers into slices faster than Tom had managed one.Of course he could cook too.
“So, you hate me because you couldn’t get a Cup without me?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Strongly dislike me, then.”
Tom sighed.“You make me feel deeply inadequate, all right?”He didn’t have to admit his inadequacy stemmed not only from losing out on the Calder or the Art Ross or the Stanley Cup but, instead, also spanned the easy way Jax talked to people, the expertise with which he handled kitchen equipment, and the fact that he had no problem inviting men up to his hotel room.
Jax paused, glancing up from the zucchini he was decimating into precise circles.“Would it help if I let you cut the zucchini?”
“It would help if you would let it go.You’re right about me being a shit captain.I’m talking to the rookies.I’m doing the barbecue.What more do you want from me?”
“I’ll make you a deal.You give me an in with Easton and the other older guys, I’ll help you with the rookies.”
“And you’ll stop saying I hate you.”
“And I’ll stop saying you hate me.”
“Fine.”
They shook on it, and then Jax explained how to chop vegetables like a one-man food processor, a skill Tom had never aspired to possess.
Tom hated to admit it, but the evening wound up being fun.The team trickled in one by one, and by five, Phil had a full house.Phil would never say it out loud, but he had the kind of dad energy that thrived on hosting low-key events; he was showing people around and getting more beers from the basement and shoving people away from the grill because they’d been doing it wrong all evening.
Breezy brought his girlfriend, a tall, slim blonde called Vanessa.She worked in interior design, and Tom asked her for tips to liven up his apartment.He didn’t think he’d be investing in any of the designer furniture brands she mentioned, but an accent wall sounded tempting.
When she left to go to the bathroom, he told Breezy, “She’s nice.”
“You think so?”Breezy smiled brightly.He’d been on the team three years already, but he was still so eager to please.“Our parents know each other.My mom set us up.”
Tom could not imagine a world in which his parents would set him up.He could not imagine a world where he would actually go on that date.“So, she’s from Montreal as well?”
“Yeah, and her family’s from Sicily.Which, I mean, it’s not Calabria, but my mom still likes her.”Breezy rolled the “r” in Calabria, a skill Tom found so momentarily distracting he didn’t quite parse the idea of blonde-haired, blue-eyed Vanessa having Sicilian origins until he spotted her walking back, her sparkly beige sweater-dress catching in the light.Had he missed something about the dress code for a casual barbecue?There were at least three other women sporting similar tones of tan and light brown.The only woman wearing white was Hayesie’s fiancée.
“So, Breezy, uh, Chris tells me you’re Sicilian?”Tom asked.
Vanessa nodded eagerly.“Oh, yeah, my great-grandparents on my mom’s side came to Canada in the thirties.”
“Right.”There went that particular avenue of conversation.
Except then, Vanessa opened her mouth and kept going.“Yeah, I mean, my dad has Dutch roots, I think, even further back, but the family decided to be lenient when my mom married him.It’s a good thing I met Chris though.My sister’s marrying a guy from Sweden!”
Tom had been aware that Breezy had an Italian last name despite being French Canadian.The knowledge had not prepared him for anything he’d heard in the last ten minutes.
At least he wasn’t alone in being blindsided.Breezy had heard the word “marry” and gone as pale as a sheet.
