“That’s ego,” Griffin says. “League-mandated.”
Oliver shoots him a look. “You literally asked for gold lettering.”
A smaller kid squints at Griffin. “Why are your legs so hairy?”
Griffin looks down at himself. “Because God abandoned me.”
Oliver snorts as another hand flies up. “Do you guys shower together?”
Oliver freezes and Griffin sighs. “Yes. Moving on.”
“NAKED?” Someone yells.
“Next question!” Oliver barks.
I all but lose it right then and there. We’re talking full-on belly laugh, bending forward, one hand braced on the bench. These kids are too damn much and I am loving every minute of it.
“Are you enjoying yourself back there, Meers?” Oliver asks pointedly.
I wave my hand. “Oh, more than you could ever believe. Please, carry on. You’re doing great.”
A kid tugs on Griffin’s sleeve. “Do you have girlfriends?”
Oliver answers immediately. “Yes.”
Griffin adds, “And they’re very patient.”
“Do they get mad if you lose?”
“Yes,” Oliver says.
“No,” Griffin says.
“Yes,” Oliver repeats.
A boy points at a pair of skates on the floor. “Can I try those?”
“No,” both men say in unison.
“Why not?”
“Because,” Griffin says, “those skates have seen things.”
Oliver clears his throat. “Okay! Who wants to see where we tape our sticks?”
Every hand shoots up.
I continue to trail after the group, grinning so hard my face hurts, when Griffin catches my eye and mouths, “Help me!”
I merely give him a double thumbs up to let him know he’s doing great.
After the tour, Ledger lets kids try on helmets three sizes too big while I lace skates for a kid who can’t stop vibrating.
“Is this really where you sit?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“Is this where you yell?”
