Page 41 of Hockey Bois
Nick (9:22 p.m.)
i could eat
where at?
A GPS coordinate appeared a moment later, showing a bar maybe two miles from his place with the colorful nameKrazy Dan’sand a three-star rating that left no doubt that this was an establishment of only the highest caliber. He still didn’t exactly know where Brady lived, only that it was easy walking distance, and this further cemented how damn close they were, yet they’d never have crossed paths if not for hockey. Funny how life worked.
Nick (9:23 p.m.)
you’re totally already there aren’t you
The reply this time took a little longer, but then he was graced with a selfie of Brady, backward cap, Pens jersey, and a hockey game on in the background. It was also a little blurry, making him think maybe Brady didn’t do the selfie thing very often.
Nick (9:26 p.m.)
i’ll be there in a bit. order me some wings? need some protein
*
The bar was definitely a dive at its finest. The decor was a mess: the lopsided shelves in the entryway were decorated with local high-school team gear; the bar was covered with beer-related memorabilia from every big-name brewery in the country; and there was a collection of run-down arcade games in the back room. The bar was broken into three main spaces, and they didn’t look like they belonged to the same building. There were no less than four different types of flooring, awkward dividers that were low enough that Nick’d run into them if he wasn’t paying attention, and a stage randomly hiding in a corner by the kitchen entrance.
It was ugly as hell, and Nick was immediately enchanted by it.
“I’ve never been to this place before and it’s amazing,” Nick said without preamble, and he sat down across from Brady.
Brady offered him a fry. “It’s a shithole, but it has cheap beer and there are usually so few people around that they put on Pens games when I ask ’em to.”
“No, no, you’re missing the whole point. This is arealdive bar. You get these new hipster places opening up that have ‘dive’ in the name, but they’re completely clean and polished and way too thought-out to be a dive. This place…” Nick gestured around them. He half expected a ceiling tile to fall out with perfect comedic timing and was mildly disappointed when one didn’t. “You don’t plan out a place like this. This is a dive au naturel.”
“It’s crap,” Brady said firmly. “I literally wouldn’t come here if it weren’t right by my apartment and the Bohs weren’t a buck.”
“Uh huh. Don’t pretend like you don’t love this place.”
Brady rolled his eyes and noticeably didn’t argue. “Food’s only okay. Burgers are the best, haven’t really ventured too much into the other stuff on the menu.” He pushed a plate of wings across the table to him. “Wings aren’t bad either.”
“Oh gee, thank you for inviting me to this place you say is crap, features Natty Boh as the drink special, and where the food is only okay. After my hard run today, I’m so glad to treat myself to such finery.”
“I’ve seen you eat a protein bar that fell on the ice. Don’t you pretend you’re used to fine dining.”
“Fair,” Nick conceded; he ordered himself a Boh and prepared to dig into his wings. “Can’t be too picky about calories after a race.”
“Nope,” Brady agreed and ate a fry. “Turkey Trot, huh? Haven’t done one of those since elementary school, I think. Was always disappointed there wasn’t a real turkey.”
Nick laughed. “My track team ran one for my high school every November. The prizewasa turkey, but it’s easy to find turkeys when your school is surrounded by rural backcountry. I think the birds came from the coach’s brother-in-law’s farm or something.”
Brady abandoned a fry to stare at him. “You grew up around farms?”
“I grew upona farm. My parents and my grandparents and my uncle’s family still live there. Sold the farm part but kept a few acres for the houses and all that. Never kept turkeys, though. Lots of pigs and corn.”
“You’re a farmboy.” There was a growing smile on Brady’s face. “That’s kind of hilarious.”
“No farms around Pittsburgh, I take it,” he mumbled into his drink. It was easier staring at the slightly skunked beer than seeing Brady so openly amused abouthim.
Brady waved a hand dismissively. “’Course there are, but I grew up in the city. Didn’t know anyone who grew up on anything bigger than a quarter-acre lot. You said your parents are still there?”
“Yep. I’m heading up in a few weeks for Thanksgiving. We have a big family dinner on the farm every year, pass around hosting between the three houses. You gonna drive up to Pittsburgh?”
“’Course.” And then Brady abruptly broke out into a cheer.
