Rigsy
Also, the coffee is ready.
Beck picks up his phone and I watch over his shoulder as he types a response.
Beck
Ketchup is disgusting, which I know because I’ve tasted it. Unwillingly. It’s a bullshit condiment.
Martinez
I KNEW IT. But you like mustard? That’s weird.
Beck
Mustard is elite. It knows what it is.
Dietz
SO THE ZAMBONI THING IS REAL
Beck, looking slightly shellshocked, puts down his phone. “That could have gone worse.”
“Yeah, it could.” I put a hand on his warm stomach. “We should get up. But… the Zamboni thing?”
“It happened in high school. I wouldn’t shut up about the shitty ice in my crease. Guy was so sick of listening to me bitch that he got the ref to penalize me.”
“Asshole.”
He grins. “Totally. I’ll put your coffee in a to-go cup. Milk, no sugar?”
“Thanks.”
He grabs a pair of briefs from a drawer and steps into them while I admire his ass. Then he strides out of his room in search of coffee, and I watch him go.
Beck is goddamn fearless. I’m proud to know him. I might even be falling for him.
I just don’t know what to do about it.
Twenty-Three
Ringing Any Bells?
Forest
Surprising nobody, Beck and I have trouble seeing each other for a while after our eventful night together.
It’s not all my fault. The Ice Cats take a couple of road trips. I receive chipper texts from Grand Rapids and then from San Jose.
Beck
Did you know Eggo waffles were invented in San Jose? And Chuck E Cheese. Also, the band Smashmouth is from here.
Holy shit! They have a life-size monopoly board!
Then, a couple hours later, I get a photo of Beck and Rigsy standing on Park Place beside a pair of giant dice in the sunshine.
Beck looks so fucking happy. Even though he deserves a reply, I have nothing fun to add to the conversation. I’m busy plowing the bar’s parking lot with a truck that makes a horrible grinding sound. We just got a foot of snow, and it’s heavy, wet stuff. The lights on my truck dashboard flicker every time I engage the plow.
