“You're a good kid, Ethan.”
I soak up the praise. As much as Jack seems like a hardass, he's always done right by me.
“Alright, the other thing I wanted to talk about is your birthday.”
As a hockey player with an early November birthday, it can be really easy to overlook it. Most years, I either don't celebrate or just grab beers with the guys after our game.
“What about it?”
“Well, what are you planning to do? Maybe a nice date night? Or a visit to a club?”
I laugh at this.
“Jack, you and I both know I'll be in Vancouver, beginning the world's longest roadtrip.”
He sighs loudly.
“There are clubs in Vancouver, Ethan. Women, too. I know I toldyou this earlier this fall, but I just don't think we're using that Minneapolis Monthly piece to its full advantage.”
Hedidtell me this last month. If possible, I care even less now than I did then.
I know he pushed hard to get that article written, hoping it would make me look more...approachable? But now he's worried that if no one everseesme dating, no one will everwantto date me and then no one will talk about the article or how great I am or how they should really pay me – and him – more money.
“Look, Jack. If I go on a date, I'll definitely let you know. You can have it captured in 4K.”
“Y'know, Ethan, it doesn't even have to be arealdate. I'm sure I can find some actress/model/influencer willing to be seen in public with you for a few weeks.”
This isn't the first time Jack has suggested this solution. I'm not sure if he even knows if he's suggesting a beard, or if he just thinks I'm the most awkward and undateable heterosexual man on Earth. Honestly, it wouldn't be hard to believe.
But each time he suggests it, I get a weird feeling in my skin, an itch that lives deep inside. It just feels so...disingenuous? Wrong? For someone who lies almost constantly, it seems odd that I'd have trouble with a lie like this...but I do.
“Look, Jack. I know you've got plenty of clients who get photographed every night with a different woman. But that's just...not me. I'm not the life of the party, and I appreciate my privacy. I'm sorry.”
He sighs once more, but this one sounds like he's given in.
“Ok, but Ethan? The verysecondyou find your person, I want to know, ok?”
I stare out the window, almost wishing for that moment to come.
“The very moment, Jack. You'll know.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JAMIE
I pullmy new Subaru into the players' lot and grab my bags out of the back. We're headed to Vancouver for the beginning of a road trip, which will end on Sunday with a matinee in Toronto. I hand my luggage to player relations, then line up to get on the plane. I check my backpack one last time, making sure the small package I put there this morning is still there.
As I get on the plane, I notice Tremblay in our now-usual row; a little ways back on the left. I take a deep breath and sit down, something everyone around us seems to expect. Tremblay has headphones on, but as the guys settle in and the plane begins to taxi, he takes them off.
“So, uh, I heard it's your birthday?”
His eyes look at me, surprised.
“How'd you know that?”
“Well, the journalists aren't the only ones with access to our stats. Plus, a certain goalie might have dropped a hint.”
He laughs at this.
