“Exactly. It makes it easy for my mamá to help Beatriz and Anita with their kids.” His brows furrowed a little.
“And easy for a sister to bang on your door when you fuck up?”I added. That would be a downside.
“Yes.” He nodded. “We also grew up in this building. We lived on the third floor where Beatriz lives now, though this whole building has been renovated.”
We arrived at the top floor and he unlocked a door.
It looked like a normal, nice apartment. There was a small kitchen, a four-seater wooden table, a couch, and a really nice TV. But nothing opulent.
He set the suitcase in the living room. “Beer?”
“Sure.” I followed him into the kitchen, and he handed me a beer from his fridge. “Thanks. Your place is nice, but not what I expected.”
Carlos leaned against the counter. “Lots of hockey players live in ordinary apartments. Especially ones that don’t have ties to the city they’re playing in and go to their actual homes during the off-season. I mean, this job is unpredictable–you could be sent anywhere at any time.”
“I can see that. Would you ever move out? I mean, I can see so many advantages to living upstairs from your mom. Like food. But I can also see disadvantages. Like it being hard to bring people home,” I replied.
His look grew conflicted. Had I hit a sore spot?
“Um, actually, yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I love being close to them. But I kinda want my own place.” He took a long drink of beer.
“I get that,” I replied.
Carlos’ dad died a couple of years back and he felt like he had to take care of everyone.
“Anita and her pack are moving out, so I might need to hold off. That’s why they took Mamá on a cruise for Christmas. It’s not just because they wanted her to have a vacation; they’re going to break the news that they bought a house in the suburbs. They want her to move with them. Not sure how Beatriz will feel about it,considering how much childcare Mamá provides. Mamá also likes her job. We’ll see.” Carlos sighed.
I nodded. “Change is hard. When my parents dissolved their pack, it was a struggle. A year and a half later, and I’m still learning how to be an adult on my own.”
One of my moms went to jail. After that, the parents kicked her out of the pack, my omega dad un-bonded her, they sold the house, and then went their separate ways. The littlest ones went with various parents. The rest of us were left to our universities and careers. I moved in with some friends and stayed behind in Research Circle to finish my degree.
“Did you hear from Rock Tech? Did you get in?” Carlo moved over to the couch and I joined him.
“Not yet.” I sighed.
“It’s only December. I’m sure you’ll get into all your top PhD programs.”
“Me, too.” Probably not. While I could get good grades when I applied myself, I hadn’t been doing as much of that as I should have, especially after the pack broke up.
My pile of rejection letters reflected that.
I’d be lucky if I got into Rock Tech, and that would be with my sister’s pack’s influence. While that wouldn’t be a bad thing, I’d sort of hoped to get into some great program on my own–even if I didn’t go there. Just so that next time I visited Mom in jail she might be proud of me. Like she used to be.
“Hey, is the hockey drug scandal impacting your side business?” he added.
A massive scandal involving a past junior hockey team had players blaming their poor behavior on a performance-enhancing drug that got past collegiate sports drug tests. Not only were some of these players now members of the Professional Hockey League, the PHL, but the drug use was pretty wide-spread among young players.
Verity had told me all about it and it wasfascinatingfrom a chemistry perspective. I sort of wanted to analyze it and see if I could improve it.
“Yeah. Someone told–not on me, but on my party drug. They’re looking for other drugs that might slip through their tests so they can re-do it. I only found out because I have friends on the rugby team.” I made a face.
I liked solving problems with chemistry. My friends on the rugby team wanted to party harder than legal recreationals, but didn’t want to run afoul of the collegiate drug tests and lose their eligibility–and scholarships.
So, to fix that dilemma, I’d created a party drug that didn’t show up on the tests. It also wasn’t entirely illegal, just grey-area, especially because it wasn’t like anything anyone had ever seen. While my university had caught on and banned me from selling it, and my siblings didn’t like that I did it, I still sold it other places–and traded it. My parents were chemists and proud of my problem-solving, but even they said they wouldn't protect me if I got caught.
“Shit. Sorry about that. A lot of PHL teams are really scrambling for players because they canceled contracts over this–and the free agent window closes at the end of the month. We even lost a forward because he was using it. One of our emergency backup goalies was already signed to a different pro team. It wouldn’t surprise me if one of our other EBUGs gets a contract, too.” He finished his beer.
“Fuck. Yeah, if they’re re-doing the test, maybe I should try to sell the formula while I can. It might be useful legitimately?” I thought for a moment. That was a good idea. Selling the drug made for a fun side-hustle, but if they took my market I should cut my losses.
