“Same,” I agreed. “Thanks.”
“I’m making a salad to go with the chicken and potatoes. Anyone have any preferences?” Alan asked.
“Want me to chop?—”
“No!” I said over Evan’s question, and at the same time Alan said, “Definitely not.”
“You both suck.” Evan pouted as he accepted a bottle from Michael.
“You can set the table, precious,” Alan told him.
“Oh gee, can I?”
Alan lifted an eyebrow at him. “And we’ll talk about who sucks later.”
“Fine, fine. I’m on it.”
“Low hanging fruit, Al,” Michael said.
Alan just grinned.
Ignoring them, I got up with Evan. “I’ll help you, babe.” Taking my beer from Michael, I followed Evan to the sideboard where the dishes lived.
Robbie joined us to help when he emerged with Mikko a few minutes later, both of them changed and with damp hair. Mikko’s signature spikes were notably absent, and I noticed he’d let the back of his hair grow out, sporting an impressive mullet.
I commented on it and he shrugged.
“He’s growing it out, to match the rest of us,” Robbie supplied. “Not the top part, because the spikes are ho—h-how it looks best.” He blushed but surged on. “And since we’re the only team not all trimmed up and shaved, he felt like he should match the rest of us.”
Alan nodded. “About that.”
“I am not cutting my hair,” Carol said. “Non. Je refuse.” He made a slashing motion with his hand.
“Okay,” Alan said carefully. “Then make sure you put it back during events, and no roots. If you’re going to dye it that… interesting… plum colour, keep it tidy.” He turned to Michael. “Same with yours. Keep it off your face, as well.” He turned next to me and Evan. “Ev, in a few more weeks, you’ll be able to get the front part into a half ponytail the way Michael and I do. Perry.” He sighed. “Fucking curls, darling. Adorable, but we’ll have to figure something out.”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s never been a problem.”
“Because if we are going to be known as the long hair hippie team, I at least want us to be classy about it, yeah?”
“My curls aren’t classy?”
“Your curls are perfect.” Evan defended me and I loved him for it.
“They are. But Curling Canada has certain standards and while I intend on bucking them a bit, I want to do so in a respectful way. So all I’m asking is that we pull them off your face.”
“You think it’s bad now,” I said. “You can’t even imagine what it’s like if I try to put it back.”
“Meaning?”
I grabbed a handful of it and pulled it back, knowing it created a huge puff on top of my head.
“I see. We’ll figure it out, but while we’re on the subject, I also have to ask the two of you, and you, Carol, to stop wearing ripped jeans to the rinks. And Carol, that ratty sweater of yours will have to stay home as well.”
“I love this sweater.” Carol fingered the frayed cuffs.
“We’ll get you another just like it but without the frays.”
“That’s the best part.”
