AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Theo
Bar Stools
Friday, August 23rd
“You’re both nuts,”JT says, sitting back in his bar stool and taking a sip of his pint. “This side of the bar’s where all the action happens.”
“Koa likes that side better.” Dash winks. “Makes some badass drinks, too.”
If memory serves right, last season, we played Hayward, and he and his then girlfriend, Nalani—straight up, I have no clue if they’re still together or not—stayed here so we could give him the Lincoln experience and hope he’d play for us this year. The owners son, Joey, heard us, and that’s how this whole idea of us working behind the bar at Bleachers after home games for an hour or so was birthed.
He basically said his dad, Joey Sr., would bust one if he could get one of us hockey players behind the bar and said he’d probably throw in free food and drinks for the semester anytime we stopped in. I jumped on it. Koa said he was down to do an hour or so, if Nalani had a dedicated bar stool and could eat a meal, too.
We decided to stop in and have a drink and a meal just to see if it was brought up. Joey lit up when we walked in, and now he’s disappeared through the door behind the bar to put in our order and chat with his old man.
“You ever tend bar?” JT asks me.
I nod. “Did a couple nights at our local bar this summer to get my feet wet.”
“It’s not rocket science.” Koa lifts his beer to his lips and takes a drink, damn near finishes it on one gulp, too. As he sets the near empty glass down, he’s pulling a face. “Why the hell people drink this shit is beyond me.”
“Not a beer guy,” Dash explains.
“Would not have been offended if you’d passed on the pitcher.” I chuckle.
“Good to know.” He nods.
Joey Sr. walks out from the back and looks at Koa then me. “Can’t offer you a big endorsement deal—we don’t have that kind of money—but the tips should be at least gas money and the free food and drinks whenever you stop in with or without a date are a decent perk, I suppose.”
“More than fair.” I smile.
“Perfect.” He smiles back then lifts his chin to JT and Dash. “You two, as well, if you want.”
JT shakes his head. “Thanks, Joe, but you’re better off with me over here.”
“I’ll think about it,” Dash tells him.
Smiling, he taps the bar twice. “The wife made some lobster rolls and clam chowder; you boys wanna try it out?”
* * *
Saturday,August 24th
Lying on the couch, I am waiting for the email Coach promised today after a last-minute team meeting, to inform us that Lincolns men and women’s ice hockey teams are announcing a conference change. I’m not sure how I feel about not having the chance to slap the shit out of Yale, Harvard, and the rest of the ECAC on the regular, but now that we have a Frozen Four win, we need to prove ourselves and go against the best of the best, and those teams are in the hockey east conference.
“How you feeling about the change?” JT sits across the room on the sectional.
“Indifferent. You?” I swipe out of my Lincoln email account and onto IG.
“We’ve played them all, anyway. Just sucks that we may not be up against Killer and Motherfucker unless we get to face them out of conference.”
“What are your thoughts on these players Coach brought from Skidmore and Johnson and Wales?”
“We lost a lot of great players, so we need them.” My scrolling finger stops on a KET wrap-up reel from they’re “polish week.” I think that’s what they call it, but I’m not seeing any work going on.
Each day is themed which, looking at the banners and having helped paint some, I should have known this. But I was too busy ducking daggers Leah was throwing my way and trying not to act like I’m pissed at Riley.
I stall on a picture with her dressed in a leopard print leotard, thigh high boots, and a top hat. If that wasn’t enough to give me a semi, the shot of her in cut off jean shorts and knotted flannel, that’s exposing her midriff, even her belly button, that’s now pierced is a turn on too.
