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My mom is a famous romance author known for taboo and dirty books that would make a sailor blush. Sometimes, I hear her talking to my dad about scenes she’s writing in her books, and I want to throw up at the thought of them re-enacting them. The thing about my mom is, she’s very open. Like way too open with her words and actions.
She says it’s part of her creative expression. Maybe that’s where I get it from. My dad is more of the shy and silent type, where Mom doesn’t give a shit and just puts it all out there. Sort of like me with my dick pics, I guess. I’m a weird mixture of them both.
Luckily, Jamie and Shannon take that shit upstairs, and now the vibe in the room goes back to normal.
“You ready for the game?” Tucker says.
Preston drops his fork onto his plate. “Yeah, I guess. I think this is going to be my best year.”
“Best year for the team, too.” Trent bites into a slice of garlic bread. “We’re winning again this year.”
We won the Frozen Four, the NCAA Men’s Ice Hockey Championship, last year. We’re hoping to do it again. The first two times we made it to the championships we couldn’t take it all the way. Next year, if we’re lucky, we’ll be playing on different teams in the NHL, so this season is important to us. It’s our last hoorah before we have to grow up and move on with our lives. No more playing small.
“I wish the announcers would stop comparing us to our dads,” Tucker says.
His words hit me hard. Having famous fathers doesn’t help any of us. Our stats and abilities are constantly being compared, making it impossible to step out from our father’s shadows.
I often wonder if having the same last name hurts or helps us. Until we get into the NHL, it’s hard to say for sure. But I wouldn’t want to get picked by a team because of my dad. None of us do. We all want to earn our positions on our own.
“Oh, I know,” Preston says. “Like I need a fucking reminder of the ghost of Alex Parker.”
“It pisses me off.” I shake my head, annoyed by the last time an announcer threw my father’s stats in my face. “My dad’s been retired for years.”
“Trying to live up to the legacy of Alex Parker ain’t easy.”
Tucker and Trent nod.
“These asshole announcers expect us to be them…” Tucker says, “… when all we’re trying to do is play as hard as we can to get NHL scouts to notice us. Sometimes, I feel like I’m living in the shadow of Tyler Kane. Our dad…” he says, pointing at Trent, “… retired over ten years ago. Get over him already.”
Tyler Kane is the general manager of the Philadelphia Flyers, and Preston’s dad is the head coach. Neither of them wanted to leave the Flyers organization after they retired. Thankfully, my dad has kept his distance from the league. He says he enjoys being home with my mom every day. Because he’s her muse, another thought that makes me sick.
“Right,” I interject. “It’s fucking bullshit. My dad’s shutout against the Blackhawks in game seven has been in highlight reels since I was a kid.”
“They won the Cup, though,” Tucker says. “That game was pretty sick.”
No one understands the complexity of our lives. Our teammates think we’re lucky or blessed to have pro hockey players in our family. But their legacies are hard acts to follow. Our fathers bred us to become hockey players. They forced us to be better than them—as if that’s even possible.
“Are you coming this weekend?” Tucker asks Preston.
He cocks his head at him. “To the dance contest?”
“Yeah. All the sorority chicks are dancing for money.”
“Count me in,” Trent says.
“I’ll be there,” I add.
Preston laughs. “Like any of you would miss half-naked girls dancing on bars.”
“You bringing Coach Bryant’s daughter?” Trent asks Preston.
He bites the inside of his cheek. “Bex is meeting my mom. I doubt she’ll want to come to the club with me that night.”
“Find a way to get her there,” I interject.
Why is he acting like such a pussy about this girl? If she were anyone but our coach’s daughter, Preston would have pounced like a shark on blood. But with this one, he’s taking his sweet-ass time. And if he likes Bex for real, then maybe that gives me a way in with Taylor.
“I’ll see if she wants to come,” Preston says.
“Make sure she brings Taylor with her.”
I still can’t get her sassy mouth out of my head. Taylor Bradshaw, with her pouty lips and nice tits are still imprinted in my mind.
Preston raises his eyebrow. He’s quick to notice that Taylor has somehow managed to get under my skin. “You like her or something?”
