Hip Check (New York Blades) (16 page)

22

“Saari, you Finnish
bastard! You can skate, but you can’t hide.”

Esa’s heart sank as Lou Capesi’s voice thundered behind him as he walked out of the locker room with Rory after the game. Capesi had been on his ass relentlessly lately about Blades’ charity events. He’d done a few his first year and had hated it, especially the auctions in which he had to kiss the highest bidder. There was one woman who created a vacuum seal between their two mouths. If that wasn’t enough, she was like an octopus, her arms like tentacles that wouldn’t let him go. She sure as hell got her money’s worth.

Rory looked amused as they slowed. “I can guess what this is about.”

Esa frowned. “Yeah, me, too.”

“I’ll wait for you in the green room.”

“You’re going to abandon me in my hour of need?”

“Hey, I don’t want him to rope me into anything! I’ve done more than my fair share!”

“Yeah, and you love it, you attention whore.”

“Have fun.”

Esa gave Rory the finger as his friend passed Lou with a big, cheery smile before disappearing into the green room. Esa halted, waiting for the team’s rotund head of PR to catch up with him.

Not surprisingly, Lou was panting slightly. “Good game tonight.”

“Thanks. What’s up, Lou?”

“Don’t ‘What’s up, Lou’ me. You know what’s up. It’s time for you to contribute some of your precious off-ice time to doing some PR just like everyone else.”

“I’m still trying to get all my ducks in a row with Nell,” Esa answered evasively.

Lou’s face softened. “How’s the kid doin’?”

“Good. She likes school.” He paused. “She loves the nanny.”

“Thank God for that. You get along with her?”

“Yeah. She’s nice and she’s great at her job. I’d still be in way over my head without her.”

“I was talking about the kid, not the nanny. But it sounds like the nanny’s got your ducks covered.”

Esa shot Lou a dirty look. “I mean personal stuff.”

“Yeah right.”

Esa knew he was trapped. “What do you want me to do?”

“The Kids on Skates charity event? Where we provide free sticks and skates to kids and you guys give them free lessons? You know about it?”

“This is my third year on the team. What do you think?”

“Then you know it’s a great charity. Some of these kids would never get to play hockey otherwise. Players who’ve done it in the past have had fun.”

“Yeah, I know,” Esa admitted. Rory had participated last year (of course), and Ulfie and the Mitchell twins had been involved since the charity was established six years ago.

Lou dug into one of the front pockets of his pants, pulling out a handful of salty almonds that he threw into his mouth. “You’re doing it,” he garbled. “End of story.” He reached into his pocket again. “Besides, it’ll reflect favorably on you, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, that’s just great.” Esa laughed bitterly. “It’s not enough that I have to prove to them I’m worth signing again. Now I have to show them I’m a humanitarian as well.”

“All part of the game, my friend.” Lou chomped down on more almonds. “I mean, you and I both know you’re a heartless prick, but management doesn’t have to know that.”

“Fuck you, Lou.”

“So it’s pretty much an all-day deal,” Lou continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Ten thirty to four thirty, three sessions. I have to check whether it’s a Saturday or a Sunday—not that it matters, because like I said, you’re doing it.”

“Jesus Christ.” Esa was getting restless as Lou repeated himself. All he wanted was to get the hell out of here so he could get Rory and they could head out to the Hart to meet everyone else. “I’m not Ulfie,” he told Lou. “I understood you the first time you told me I had no choice.”

“Just making sure.”

“Let me know the date as soon as you can so I can talk to the nanny and work out the scheduling.”

“Does your nanny have a name, Saari?” Lou mocked. “Or do you just call her ‘nanny’?”

“Michelle. Her name is Michelle.” Esa shifted his gym bag to his other shoulder. “Can we wrap this up now?”

Lou seemed oblivious to his impatience. Either that, or he was ignoring it. “I’ve got one other charity event that I want you to think about.”

“What?” Esa asked sharply.

“The one where women bid on a kiss from you.”

Esa shook his head vehemently. “No fuckin’ way. I’m never doing that again. I still have nightmares about it.”

Lou scowled at him. “It brings in a lot of money.”

“I don’t care. Ask Ulfie to do it. I’d rather break my own legs.”

“Prima donna asshole,” Lou muttered.

“What was that?” Esa asked, zipping up his jacket.

“Nothing. All right, get outta here. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

Esa started down the hall, leaving Lou behind to scribble furiously on a battered old clipboard that was probably older than Esa was. He resented Lou dropping that little comment about him earning brownie points with management if he did more PR. He knew it was no secret that there wasn’t any movement on them making him an offer yet, but the thought that anything apart from his performance on the ice might be factored in really pissed him off. A thought hit him: maybe Lou was bullshitting him just to get him to do the event, in which case Lou was an even bigger jerk than he thought. No, he liked Lou. All the guys did, even though he was a huge pain in the ass. But that was his job, right?

He didn’t want to let Lou know, but he would have committed to the charity event anyway, out of a growing sense of awareness where kids and money were concerned. He’d never wanted for anything, and God knows, Nell certainly didn’t. But he knew there were a lot of kids who didn’t have much. If he could make them happy for a day, then it was worth it.

Jesus, who was the guy thinking these things? Before Nell came to stay, this guy didn’t exist. Then again, before Nell came to stay, a lot of things didn’t exist.

* * *

“Ugh, I hate
fractions!”

Frustrated, Nell threw her pencil down on the kitchen table and squeezed her eyes shut, near tears. Michelle couldn’t blame her: she’d hated learning fractions, too. It didn’t help that her third grade teacher, Mrs. Engler, hated teaching math. The short-tempered woman played a large role in shaping exactly the kind of teacher Michelle vowed she’d never become.

“I hated them, too,” Michelle offered, drawing her chair closer to Nell. She was trying to help, but the tougher the problems, the more upset Nell became. Patience was not her strong suit. Luckily, it was Michelle’s.

“You’ve only got two more to go, and then you’re done with your homework for the day.”

“I suppose.” Nell picked up her pencils, painstakingly drawing small squiggles on one corner of her handout. “My mum used to help me with maths sometimes.”

Michelle blinked, taking a deep breath. This was the last context in which she expected Nell to start mentioning her mother. It was a very good sign.

“Really?” Michelle asked with interest.

Nell didn’t look at her; she just kept doodling on the page. “Did your mum help you?”

“Yup.”

A small smile came to Nell’s face as she peered up at Michelle through her bangs, which definitely needed a trim. “Was she good at it?”

“Nope.” Michelle laughed. “But she tried.”

“My mum was sort of good at it.”

“That must’ve been helpful.”

Nell shrugged. “It was. I guess.”

“Why don’t you see if you can figure out the next problem on your own and I’ll start dinner.”

“Chili?” Nell asked hopefully.

“That’s tomorrow night. Tonight we’re having spaghetti.”

“I’ll accept that.”

“Well, la-di-da, Miss Saari!”

Nell giggled as she wiggled her skinny butt on the kitchen chair, trying to get more comfortable before tackling the dreaded math problem in front of her.

Michelle was elated as she started to gather the ingredients to make sauce. She wished she could tell Nell how much it meant to her that she’d shared something about her mother. Yes, she’d shut down a little toward the end (“I guess” being a classic deflection), but the fact that she’d opened up in the first place was major. She’d have to tell Esa. Maybe she’d e-mail him.

It had been a week since “the incident” as she now referred to the kiss in her mind. And if there was an award given for “Best Job of Minimizing Contact by Two People,” she and Esa would have won it, no contest. It had been more awkward than she’d anticipated, despite the three of them spending a good chunk of time together the day after he hurt his ankle. Actually, it had been excruciating for her, pretending in front of Nell for a prolonged period of time. She had no idea how it had been for Esa.

* * *

“How’s it going?”
she asked Nell a few minutes later as she assembled the fresh spices and vegetables on the kitchen island. This was one of the things about nannying that teaching didn’t give her: she could nourish her charges not just intellectually, but nutritionally.

“I’m stupid,” Nell lamented.

“You’re not stupid. You’re impatient. Take your time.”

Nell turned in her chair to look at her. “Maybe Uncle Esa could help me.”

“Maybe.”

“Does he have a game today?”

“Nope.”

“Then where is he?”

Nell had started wanting to know where Esa was every minute of every day when he wasn’t practicing or playing a game.

“I don’t know.”

Nell nibbled on the tip of the pencil’s eraser. “Can I ring him?”

“Sure. Use your own phone, though, okay? I don’t want him thinking I’m calling him.”

Nell looked puzzled. “Why?”

“I only need to call him if there’s an emergency, and this isn’t. I don’t want to worry him if he sees my number come up,” Michelle explained.
Plus, I don’t want it flashing through his mind for even a millisecond that I might be calling him for some other reason.

“Okay,” Nell said easily, sliding out of her chair and heading toward her bedroom. Michelle grabbed a tomato and started dicing it. She hadn’t been cutting more than a minute before Nell reappeared with a huge smile on her face.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“Uncle Esa is going to have dinner with us tonight, and then after that he’s going to help me with my maths homework.”

“That’s good,” said Michelle, forcing a smile. “Did he say where he is?”

“I didn’t ask him. But he said he’d be home in a bit.” A bit? What the hell did that mean? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? Two hours?

Michelle sliced the tomato in front of her to ribbons. “Nell, can you call him back and tell him dinner will be ready in about an hour?”

Nell sighed heavily as if put upon. “All right.”

Michelle lifted her eyes from her task. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Nell mumbled.

“Good.” Michelle grabbed another tomato, cutting more slowly. “You really liked it last week when he ate dinner with us a lot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, except I think it’s very rude to text during dinner.”

“So do I. Maybe if you ask him not to, he won’t.”

Michelle knew part of the reason he did it was to avoid making conversation with her. But it also meant he didn’t talk as much as he could have with Nell.

“All right, I’m going to call him,” said Nell, sliding off her chair again.

“An hour,” Michelle reminded her as she started out of the kitchen.

“I KNOW!”

Another nice, cozy dinner for three, Michelle thought ruefully. It was the last thing she wanted. But if it meant Esa spent more time with Nell, then she’d grin and bear it.

23

“Something smells good.”

Michelle ignored the small uptick in her pulse as Esa strolled into the kitchen. His timing was impeccable: Nell was just setting the last fork down on the table, and she herself had just finished tossing the pasta. All that was left was to grab the salt and pepper shakers and they could sit down.

Nell looked up at her uncle, smiling.

“We’re having spaghetti,” she announced.

“Smells good,” Esa said to Michelle. He sounded like a bad actor who’d been directed to sound “casual,” but couldn’t do it.

“Thank you.”

Now that her pulse had stopped its ascent, Michelle realized how uncomfortable she was. Him walking into the kitchen saying “Smells good” . . . Nell’s setting the table . . . her making dinner . . . the only thing missing was her pecking Esa on the cheek and asking, “How was your day, honey?” If he’d been wearing a tie, he’d have walked in loosening it.

Esa approached the island in the center of the kitchen where Michelle was standing. “Anything I can do?”

“Nope, everything’s taken care of. Thanks for asking, though.” She carried the bowl of pasta over to the table, then remembered something. “Actually, if you don’t mind bringing the salt and pepper shakers over . . .”

“No problem.”

“You forgot the cheese, Michelle!” Nell rolled her eyes, slithering out of her seat to fetch the bowl of parmesan cheese on the counter.

“I love spaghetti,” she informed Esa as she sat back down, her eyes watching Michelle as she filled her pasta bowl.

“I didn’t know that,” said Esa.

“I know,” said Nell. It was a simple statement of fact, nothing pointed or guilt inducing behind it. Which almost made it worse, in Michelle’s estimation.

Done serving Nell, she instinctively reached for Esa’s plate next, same as last week. God. Damn. She knew it came from years of serving her father and brother, but he didn’t.
He probably thinks I
am
the maid. Or the housekeeper.
But Esa put his hand out to stop her, same as he had last week.

“No, no, I can serve myself.”

“Sorry,” Michelle mumbled, feeling like a jerk. She was the one who kept screwing up, not him.

“Selma’s family says grace before dinner,” said Nell.

“So you’ve said,” said Michelle.

“Maybe we should,” Nell suggested tentatively.

Esa laughed curtly. “I don’t think so.”

Nell looked apprehensive. “How come?”

“Do you believe in God?” asked Esa.

Michelle shot him a withering look. Did he really intend getting into a theological discussion with an eight-year-old? It never failed: every time she thought he was finally smartening up, he did or said something that set the process back.

“I don’t know,” said Nell with uncertainty. “Do you?” Her eyes were scouring his face, trying to discern whether she’d said the right thing or not.

“I don’t know, either,” Esa admitted. “So maybe until we figure that out, we shouldn’t say grace.”

Nell pondered this. “I get it,” she finally said. “We’re hypocrites if we say it.”

“Exactly,” said Esa. He glanced at Michelle, looking pleased, as if he somehow deserved credit for Nell’s powers of reason. Or maybe he was proud of how smart she was.

“Do you believe in God, Michelle?”

Michelle had been hoping to dodge that particular bullet, but it was too juicy a topic for a kid to let go of so easily. Cowardly as it might be, she was going to take the easy way out, and hedge her bets.

“I don’t know, Nell.”

“No one knows anything around here!”

They all laughed, moving on to small talk about their day, chat that Michelle facilitated for Nell’s sake because Esa was still so inept at it. It was also a way of controlling the flow of conversation, ensuring it centered on Nell. Not that her own day had been chock filled with excitement, but she really wasn’t comfortable with Esa knowing any of its details, and she imagined he felt the same way about his.

But it was dumb for her to think they could avoid direct interaction forever. Esa cracked first.

“I know we—you—haven’t worked out the schedule for a couple of weeks from now, but I was wondering, if it’s possible, for you to work on Saturday of that weekend. I have a charity event I have to do.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Michelle asked. She was genuinely interested.

“A thing called ‘Kids on Skates.’ The Blades organization provides free sticks and skates to poor kids and we teach them how to skate—or at least, give them a little fun on the ice.”

“Sounds great. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“I don’t know how to skate!” Nell said with a pout.

“Oh.” Judging by the blank look on Esa’s face, this had never crossed his mind.

“I want to learn.”

“Uh . . . okay.” Esa considered this. “How about this: if it’s okay with Michelle, maybe she could drop you off at Met Gar after the event, and I could give you a skating lesson. Does that sound good?”

“Very good! Except for one thing.”

Esa eyed Nell wearily. “What’s that?”

“Can Michelle stay while I have my lesson?” She looked excitedly to Michelle. “Can you?
Pleeasse
?”

“Nell, your uncle probably wants to spend a little time alone with you,” said Michelle, proud of being able to extricate herself from a potentially awkward situation so quickly.

“No, it’s all right,” said Esa.

Coward.

Nell shook Michelle’s forearm. “So can you?
Pleeeeeasse
?”

“Let me think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” said Nell, lips pressing together in disappointment as she twirled some spaghetti on to her fork.

“Can you skate?” Esa asked Michelle, his tone a tiny bit too smug for her liking.

“
Yes,
though it’s been awhile.” Skating was like riding a bike: you never forgot how to do it. So what if she still had vivid memories of Jamie calling her a “total spaz” as she fell on her ass repeatedly out on the ice? She’d gotten the hang of it eventually.

Nell looked thrilled. “You have to come, then! It’ll be so much fun!”

“I said I’d think about it, sweetie, and I promise I will. Cross my heart.”

* * *

“Congrats, Saari: you
don’t suck with kids.”

Esa accepted Lou’s backhanded compliment with a smile as he sat down on the Blades bench. “Kids on Skates” had just wound down, and it had been a huge success. Esa was surprised by how much he’d enjoyed it, despite occasional verbal abuse from Rory, who couldn’t resist reminding him that he was a “prima donna arsehole.”

The kids had been great. Some of them were naturals: a few minutes of instruction and they were whizzing down the ice. Others made Esa glad helmets were mandatory for children. He felt kind of bad for them: he could see how desperate they were to master just the basics, and how envious they were of those who were having no problem. It gave him pause, because he’d been a natural from the time he could skate. When he was a kid, he’d never stopped to think that kids who had a tough time might feel bad about themselves. All he’d done was mock them. God, what a little bastard he was.

There were a few “disciplinary cases,” as Eric Mitchell called them—kids who didn’t realize hockey sticks were meant to stay on the ice, not be wielded like swords—but overall, the kids were extremely well behaved. Esa got a kick out of half of them being girls. He wondered: would Nell have any interest in playing hockey once she learned to skate? If she was anything like her mother, the answer was no. But maybe her father was an athlete. You never knew.

Rory skated over and sat on the bench beside him, reaching for a towel from the folded stack. “Some tough little fuckers with potential out there,” he said, mopping his face.

“I know,” said Esa.

“You looked to be enjoying yourself.”

Esa cracked open a bottle of Gatorade. “I was.”

“I was just congratulating him on not sucking with kids,” said Lou.

“Nice way of putting it,” said Rory.

“Wha? You want me to tell him he’s Mr. Rogers?”

“I have no idea who that is, Lou. I’m from Ireland, remember?”

“Oh yeah. I’m sorry. About you being from Ireland, I mean.”

“Go chase yourself, you fat fuck,” Rory replied, patting down his neck. He glanced at Esa. “C’mon, let’s head to the locker room.”

“No, I’ve got a date.” Esa took a long drink of Gatorade. It hit the spot perfectly. Sometimes he thought he could live on this stuff. “Michelle is bringing Nell down. She wants to learn how to skate.”

“The kid’s coming?” Lou looked delighted. “I’ve got to stick around!”

“I don’t want people watching her and making her self-conscious.”

Lou looked crestfallen. “I guess I get it.” He hitched his pants up. “Can I at least say hello to her?”

“Jesus Christ, Lou, I’m not that much of a prick.”

“You say that a lot, you know,” Rory noted.

Esa patted Rory’s shoulder. “I appreciate that. You’re a true pal.”

“Just thought I’d give you something to chew on.”

“I’ve got enough to chew on, believe me.”

Rory looked thoughtful. “You know what? I believe you do.”

“Look, can you do me a favor?”

Rory pushed a tangled lock of hair off his forehead. “What’s that?”

“Can you make sure the guys get the hell out of here? The last thing I need is for them to stick around to get a look at Michelle, like some pack of twelve-year-old boys.”

“Ashamed of your friends, are you?”

“Shit, yeah.”

Rory laughed. “No problem.” He shot Esa a devilish look. “I believe she already knows Ulfie.”

Esa gave him a long, dirty look.

“And Nell does know Jason,” Rory continued.

“Cut the shit and just get them out of here. Michelle and Nell will be here any minute.”

“All right, then.” Rory rose. “I’m off to run interference. Let me know how it goes, yeah? With
Nell
, of course.”

Esa threw him another dirty look before saying, “Bite me.”

“Seriously, it’s a good thing you’re doing, Esa, teaching Nell to skate. It’s important.”

“Yeah.” Esa was getting a little bit tired of everything he did with Nell being assigned such importance. Couldn’t he just be teaching his niece to skate?

“I agree with Bono one hundred and ten percent,” Lou chimed in.

“I think you better shut up, Lou, before he spears you like a meatball,” said Esa.

The theme from
The Godfather
suddenly started playing, and Lou pulled his iPhone from his jacket pocket.

“Fuck a doodle fuck,” he grumbled with a frown. “I can’t stick around to say hi. I got a text from the missus. She wants me home pronto: my brother and his wife showed up three hours early for dinner, and she hates my sister-in-law like poison. I gotta hoof it.”

“Three hours early?” asked Esa.

“My brother’s a goddamn food mooch,” Lou complained. “His wife doesn’t cook. My wife does. She’s probably been plying him with food since the minute he walked in the door. And he’s been loving it, let me tell you. Another time, I guess. Tell the kid I said hello.”

“Have you forgotten her name, Lou?” asked Esa innocently.

“No, I haven’t forgotten her name,” Lou retorted with a scowl. “I just like calling her ‘the kid.’ You got a problem with that, Saari?”

“No problem at all. I was just double-checking.” Esa paused. “So tell me her name.”

“It’s Nell. Oh, and Saari?
Va fangool!
”

Esa looked at Rory questioningly. “He just told you to have intimate relations with yourself.”

“Ah.”

Muttering under his breath, Lou waddled away from the bench and down the carpeted ramp into the bowels of the arena.

“Guess I better be off as well,” said Rory. “Hold back the wolf pack.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well, you better. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow morning.”

“Yup.”

Following Lou’s lead, Esa decided to see if he’d gotten any messages, but then he remembered his phone was in his locker with his street clothes. Well, if Michelle really needed to reach him for something, she knew where he was.

Body jumping with nervous energy, he climbed over the boards onto the ice, and began to skate.