Hip Check (New York Blades) (21 page)

30

The scent of
cigar smoke hit Michelle full in the face as she walked into her father’s apartment. Though the kitchen was at the back, the gag-inducing aroma was everywhere. Michelle could already smell it in her hair. She’d have to take a shower when she got home.

She had wanted to spend some time with her friends, but it wasn’t fated. Marcus was dog sitting for a wealthy, high-strung couple who forbade him from having anyone stop by their apartment. “The money’s too good to pass up, honey,” he’d told Michelle over the phone with a sigh. “Trust me when I tell you I’d much rather be with you than this quivering min pin, who weighs less than my iPad.” Hannah was in Woodstock for the weekend, cooking for her employers and their ten “best friends.” “Who has ten best friends?” Hannah complained to Michelle. Two of the guests were vegetarians, one was vegan, one ate gluten-free only, one was on Atkins, and another followed the Caveman Diet. Michelle felt guilty laughing, but she couldn’t help it.

Michelle hadn’t had a chance to see her dad last week and felt guilty about it. But her dad seemed okay with it. Actually, a little too okay, and now she understood why: he was hitting the stogies again.

She cut a trail through the noxious cloud of smoke to find him sitting at the kitchen table playing Spades with his best friend Micky Dolan, whom Michelle had known her whole life. Her dad and “Uncle Micky” graduated the fire academy at the same time, had been assigned to the same house, and retired together. Michelle loved Uncle Micky. He had taught her magic tricks when she was little, and used to bring her presents: a CD here, a bottle of nail polish there. He could be a bit of a blowhard at times, but his wife, Aunt Reenie, kept him in check, though not where his weight was concerned: he’d blown up like a house since the last time Michelle had seen him, his blue eyes sunk deep into his pudgy face like two raisins.

“Hey, look who it is.” Micky struggled to stand but Michelle waved him back down.

“How’ve you been, Uncle Micky? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Screw him,” said her father. “I get a kiss first.”

Michelle gave her dad a kiss, followed by a stern look. “Dad, you’re not supposed to be smoking, remember?”

“I’ve got Febreze, don’t worry.”

“Dad
.
”
She was beginning to understand her brother’s mounting frustration with him. “I’m not talking about the smoke, and you know it. I’m talking about the smok
ing
. I could have sworn you were told to cut it out years ago.” She looked back and forth between her uncle and her dad. “What is it with you guys? I swear to God, almost every firefighter I know smokes. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does,” said her uncle, reaching across the table for one of her dad’s famous chocolate chip cookies. “We spent more than forty years breathing in toxic shit. We’re immune to it.”

“Over the years our lungs have become flame retardant,” her father added with a chuckle.

Michelle frowned. “Right.” She went to the fridge, popping open a can of diet soda. She tried not to keep much at Esa’s because she didn’t want Nell drinking it. But she was used to eating and drinking chemical junk; she’d grown up eating it after her mother died.

She groaned aloud, unaware that she’d done so. Her dad twisted in his seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just forgot how fake these could taste. I haven’t had one in a while,” she fibbed.

“Pour it down the sink,” her father suggested, turning back to his friend.

“I can’t do that. It’s wasteful.”

“Then drink it,” said her uncle. He glanced up at her over the fanned cards he held in his hands. “You probably drink fancy stuff now, huh? Bottled water that costs six bucks?” He smirked. “I’ll stick with New York City tap water, thank you very much. It hasn’t done me any harm.”

“Shut up,” said her father. “It’s not up to her if that fuck-face Finn wants to spend his money on all that stuff.”

“Dad.” Michelle’s heartbeat lurched as she feared the pink climbing her neck to her face might give her away. “He’s not a fuck-face, all right? He’s really doing well with Nell.”

“Yeah, great, he’s Uncle of the Year,” her father groused.

“He’s trying. Very hard.”

A significant look passed between her father and uncle.

“What?” asked Michelle. “What was that for?”

“You seem to be softening up on Esa Saari,” her dad noted.

Michelle grabbed a cookie, biting down hard. “I live with the man! I see how hard he’s trying.”

“So he’s a good boss?” asked her uncle.

“Very good.”

“Has he tried any funny stuff?”

“No,” Michelle mumbled through her chewing, washing the cookie down with a sip of soda.
Good one. Lie to your beloved uncle, too, while you’re at it. You’re on a roll; why the hell not?

“He bring any models home?” her uncle continued with a wolfish smile.

“I just told you, he’s trying really hard to be a good uncle,” Michelle retorted. The idea of Esa sneaking models in and out hurt like a hard pinch to the back of her arm. She’d kill him if he did that, even though she had no right to.

“We’ll see how good an uncle he is if he’s got to drag that kid across the country or halfway around the world,” said her father.

Michelle felt as if everything started happening in slow mo: the blink of her eyes, her intake of breath, the involuntary furrow of her brows . . . “What are you talking about?”

Her father, half jesting, pointed a finger at her in admonishment. “This is why you should check out the sports pages sometimes, Michelle, especially since your boss is a professional athlete.”

“I don’t understand,” she replied, the words feeling thick in her mouth.

“Saari’s contract with the Blades runs out at the end of the season. There’s some talk they might not renew it. He’d be a free agent. The
Sentinel
says Dallas wants him badly. L.A. is interested, too. The
Post
says his agent is entertaining offers from the Russian league.”

“But—why?” Michelle blurted. “Why wouldn’t the Blades resign him?”

“It’s all about the Benjamins. They paid a shitload of money for him,” said her uncle, “and they’re thinking he ain’t re-signing for as much.” He narrowed his eyes quizzically at her. “If you ask me, you seem to be getting a little upset over this.”

“He’s just never mentioned it to me. That’s all.”

“Makes sense,” said her dad with a shrug. “Most guys in his position just ignore the rumors, keep their heads down, and play their guts out, which is what the Finnish fuck seems to be doing.” Her father flashed her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, honey: it’s doubtful you’re gonna be out of a job.”

“I know.” Michelle gulped down half the can of soda, bubbles tickling her nose. It wasn’t herself she was worried about.

31

“God, Erin, would
you please spin so I can get this Swede’s ass out of my face?”

It was down to Esa and Ulf on the Twister mat. After telling Nell not to be disappointed if Ulfie was the only one who showed, Erin and Rory jumped at the invite, thrilling Esa. It would have been excruciating if it were just him, Nell, and Ulfie, especially if they had watched one of the episodes of
Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?
that Nell had tivo’d and Ulfie lost.

“Erin!”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Esa, for God’s sake.”

Esa tensed, listening for the sound of the spinner. It was just winding down when another sound caught his attention, that of a lock turning in a door, followed by a woman’s voice, surprised, as if she walked in on something she shouldn’t have.

“Oh.”

Esa snapped his head up to look at Michelle. Her lips were pressed together lightly, her eyes looking at everyone but him. He could see that she was dying to laugh, which only made his frustration at having Ulfie’s fat ass in his face worse.

Nell ran to Michelle, her energy as fresh as it was two hours earlier when the evening had began. “We’re playing Twister!”

Michelle’s eyes drifted to the Twister mat. “So I see.” This time she did look at Esa. Yeah, he was definitely right: the wicked little crinkles in the corners of her eyes, the casual press of her lips? She would howl with laughter at him if she could. He scowled at her, but she didn’t seem to take any notice. Did she think he liked being in this stupid contorted position, the mossy aroma of Ulf’s socks wafting up to choke him?

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Michelle said to the room at large.

“You’re not!” Ulf insisted.

“He’s right,” said Esa. “We’re about to wrap this up.
Now
, as a matter of fact. Right, Erin?” His neck was beginning to hurt from holding his head up.

“Esa wants it over and done with because he’s afraid Ulf is going to fart in his face,” Rory explained to Michelle.

“My classy husband,” Erin said with a long-suffering sigh. She gave Michelle a small hug. “How are you? You’re lookin’ great.”

“Things are going pretty well. You?”

“Same for me as well, pretty much. Work has been a bit of a pain, they’re—”

“CALL IT, ERIN!” Esa roared. His ankle was beginning to twinge with pain.

Huffing dramatically, Erin spun the Twister wheel again. “Right foot, red!” she shouted. “Will that do?”

As if synchronized, Esa and Ulfie each slid their right foot to the same circle.
Crap.
This meant Erin would have to decide who had gotten there first, Esa or Ulf, and the goddamn game would go on even longer.

“Well?” Ulf asked Erin. Esa noticed his opponent’s legs were beginning to quiver. Despite being in superb physical condition, all the weird positions they’d been contorting themselves into were beginning to take a toll on both of them. If the game didn’t end soon, Esa was going to call it. There was no way he was going to risk an injury playing this game.

“Ulf was there first.”

“Thanks for that, Erin,” said Esa sarcastically as his eyes scanned the friggin’ Twister board for an open circle of red that wouldn’t require him twisting himself like some kind of yogi. He finally found one. It required he do a minor split, but worrying about it proved to be futile, since he fell on his ass before he even had time to execute the move.

“You lose!” Nell sang out.

“Yep,” said Esa, thrilled at losing his balance.

“Guess your smooth move makes me the winner, Saari,” said Ulf, gloating.

Esa pushed himself onto his hands and knees. “Congratulations.”

“I think we should play one more game and include Michelle this time,” said Ulf.

Esa slowly stood up, waiting to see what Michelle’s reaction would be. It was a weary smile. “Thank you for the invite, but I can’t. I’m going to bed now.”

Ulf looked horrified. “What’s this bed talk? It’s early!”

What. The. Fuck
? Esa thought. He caught Rory’s eye: his friend looked perplexed, confirmation that his own feelings of bewilderment weren’t out of line. He felt bad for Michelle: she looked put on the spot, especially with Nell clinging to her and looking up at her hopefully. “Please, Michelle? Just one?”

Michelle playfully tugged on the end of Nell’s nose. “Nope. I will some other time, I promise. But right now, I’m dead on my feet.”

“C’mon,” Ulf urged.

“She said no,” said Esa sharply. “Leave her alone.”

Ulfie chuckled low, muttering something to himself in Swedish.
Prick.

The mood in the room had gone from goofy to awkward to tense in under two minutes. Esa wasn’t sure how to fix it. Then he thought: Why do I need to fix it? Torkelson’s the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer. If anyone should be trying to paddle back to shore, it’s Ulf.

Finally, Nell broke the quiet.

“We’ve got some pizza left over if you’re hungry, Michelle,” said Nell.

“I’m fine, honey. Thanks.” She glanced around the room again. “I’m just going to grab a glass of water and then I really do have to go to bed. Good night, everyone.”

* * *

“Michelle?”

Michelle turned from the fridge where she’d just grabbed herself a nice, cold bottle of Aquafina to find Ulf Torkelson hovering in the kitchen doorway, regarding her tentatively. She’d been surprised to come home to a game of Twister in progress, especially when she saw Esa and Ulf on the mat. Esa Saari playing Twister? He really was trying to do his best for Nell. As for Ulf, Michelle didn’t know him at all, apart from their brief exchange at the babysitting debacle. All she knew was that Nell adored him.

“Hi, Ulf,” Michelle replied, twisting the top off the bottle and tossing it in the trash.

He took two shy steps toward her. It was incongruous, this giant man looking so uncertain.

“There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Okay.”

He sounded very serious—so serious Michelle felt her insides lurch with panic. Her first thought was: Esa had told his teammates he’d slept with her. No. Knowing Esa, it was probably more along the lines of, “I finally fucked the nanny.” Ulf was creeping in to the kitchen to tell her what a ho Esa was, that a nice girl like her should steer clear of a guy like Esa.

Ulf took a deep breath, closing the distance between them. God, he was huge. There was something about him that reminded Michelle of Shrek. He was a giant, blond Shrek.

“Michelle, I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me?”

Oh, shit.
This was ten times worse than him telling her Esa had been boasting.

“I know we don’t know each other—”

At all, Michelle thought.

“—but you seem really nice, and I’m very decent, if I do say so myself. Both of my ex-wives would attest to that.”

“Two ex-wives?”

Ulf shook his head sadly. “Two tales of heartbreak and woe, of a good man’s nature being taken advantage of. I can tell you all about it over dinner. Do you like fish?”

“Ulf, I’m really flattered that you’re asking me out,” said Michelle diplomatically. “But I’m not interested in seeing anyone right now.”

“Why not?”

He reminded Michelle of a child whose curiosity, whether appropriate or not, wouldn’t be sated. In fact, he reminded her a bit of Nell. No wonder they got along. “I just have a lot of other things going on right now,” she said with a gentle smile.

One of which was the man who’d just strolled into the kitchen. “Hey,” Esa said. “What’s up, you guys?”

“None of your business,” said Ulf.

Esa’s demeanor quickly changed from casual to challenging. “Really.”

“Yes.”

“That’s interesting.”

Ulf was glaring. “Actually, it’s not.”

Having completed the task she’d come into the kitchen for, Michelle decided it was time to leave. Tension between the two men was rumbling like distant thunder and she didn’t want to be here when the first deafening clap sounded. Nor did she want the anger roiling inside her to manifest itself on her face. What the hell was Esa doing?

“I’m beat, guys. Good night.”

Both men looked dumbfounded as she walked past them. It was an emotion she shared, except she wasn’t showing it. She knew this subject was far from closed.