Cameron took the phone out of my hand to look at the picture of the team, standing behind a couple of little kids who held one of those giant cheques. “They look like princes,” he observed, handing the phone to his twin and going inside the house.
“Shit yeah,” Jason grinned. “I’d do the curly haired one. All that fem energy—begging to get it fucked out of him.”
“You’re a pig,” I said, taking back the phone. The truth was that Jason Darren would pretty much fuck anyone. Not his nicest quality.
I expanded the image to get a better look at the players. I hated to admit I agreed with them. The whole team were not hard to look at, but two of them, the one with curly hair Jason had mentioned, and the shorter blond next to him, were especially pretty.
It was clear, from the way Curly Hair had his arm slung over Blond’s shoulder, and how Blond was gazing at him, ignoring the camera, that they were something to each other. That intrigued me.
It wasn’t like curling was the NHL or anything, but I struggled to think of anyone in the men’s circuit who were openly out. That these two guys so obviously didn’t care who knew who they were in love with was refreshing.
I wished I’d brought my glasses out with me. I glanced up at Michael, who nodded and took his phone back so he could read the article aloud.
“‘Local curling legend Perry Hasting.’” He paused, expanded something and squinted at the screen. “I think that’s the one with the hair—‘and his team, currently sitting at the top of the Sudbury rankings, had a very successful day, raising…’ blah, blah, blah.” He skimmed through the article. “Nearly ten K,” he muttered. “Good for you, guys. Ah, Here. ‘Skip, Perry Hasting, Vice, Robbie Chan, Second, Evan Baily, and First, Shaw Kerry, expected to take the grand prize in the Northern Ontario Recreational Open in two weeks, say they are looking forward to meeting last-minute tournament entry, Olympic hopefuls, Alan Channing, Carol Renard, and the Darren twins, Jason and Cameron in what should prove to be a challenging match-up. “We plan to give those guys a run for the local podium,” Baily said when asked if he thought they could still take top honours. Just because we play in a house league doesn’t mean we don’t have skills. And the best Skip ever.” With the full, enthusiastic backing of his team, Perry quietly agreed they might have a chance. “I’m excited to give it try,” he admitted. “We’ll see.” The tournament is scheduled’ yadda, yadda.”
Michael grinned. “Cocky fuckers. I guess we will see.”
“We’ll kick their skinny asses,” Jason muttered.
“Maybe.” I was intrigued, though. That they’d taken an entire weekend to curl with a bunch of kids, raised money for their programs, and had the kind of confidence to go on record saying they thought they could be a challenge for us, all made me very interested in meeting them.
“Hey, how long are we stuck here?” Jason asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I’d like to go watch them play on Friday,” I said. “See what we’re up against.”
Jason snorted. “Sure. Sounds fun.” He got up and called into the house for Cameron, asking if he wanted to go into town for the afternoon.
“So much for bonding,” Michael muttered after they drove off.
“Honestly—” I settled more comfortably under my lap blanket. “—I am less and less interested in bonding with those two. I’d rather be struggling to do this with teammates we can respect than for it to be financially easy and have to deal with those two.”
“So can we replace them before the deadline?”
“The deadline only matters if we’re replacing more than one player. We can cut them loose and take on one guy and just not have an alternate.”
Michael nodded. “I guess we’ll see.”
I wished he sounded more convinced, but I wasn’t going to change my mind. If there was any way I could get to the Olympics without those two albatrosses, that’s what I would do.
Pulling out my own phone, I started drafting an email to their uncle, who had been so heavily on board with us taking them on. I’d only been at it a minute before Michael muttered something as he handed me my glasses which he’d had in his breast pocket.
I grinned at him, “Thanks.”
He just shook his head and went back to gazing out over the horse paddock.
Things were going to change. I didn’t send the email right away, but I felt better having drafted it.
Then I started googling. Was it considered stalking if I was only interested in their curling careers?
Seeing them in person two days later threw all my careful only-interested-in-their-curling thoughts out a very high window. Perry Hasting and Evan Baily were both adorable. They were soclearly a couple and I forced myself not to flirt. Or I tried to, but I’m only human, and they were not subtle.
“Oh my god,” Michael grumbled after the introductions, when we were sitting at a table, watching their game. “You like them.”
I shrugged. “What’s not to like?”
He sighed. “You don’t get to assess their skills,” he said. “Carol and I will decide if they’re any good. You are not going to be objective.”
“I can be objective.” I waved when Evan glanced up and saw us watching.
