Page 37 of Grief & Glitter

“Not betting.”

“Okay.”

He leaned closer, close enough that I got the whiskey off his breath. “My buddies are messing with me, right? Tell me that’s not your date?”

I glanced over at Ryan, laughing with a group by the silent auction. “He’s my date.”

I waited while he took a drink. “Huh. I don’t get all this now.”

There it was. “All what?”

He gestured vaguely toward Ryan without looking at him again. “You know.”

“No. Explain it.”

His expression flickered. People liked vague comments, liked saying all this and you know what I mean, because then they could pretend they hadn’t said anything at all. He gave a short laugh. “Come on. Hockey used to be hockey.”

“It still is.”

“Sure, but now everything has to be about this queer stuff. Pride nights. Rainbows. Men dressing like women. Kids seeing it.”

My hand tightened around the edge of the table. I didn’t need to punch him, raise my voice, or give anyone a video to post online by morning. I just leaned in. “His name is Ryan, and he’s my date.” Maybe I sounded too menacing, but then I was channeling the big bad hockey alpha shit to throw right back at him.

He blinked and held up his free hand, pasting a good ol’ boy smile on his florid features. “I didn’t mean anything by it, son.”

I should leave it there, but fuck this noise. “You did.”

His face reddened even further. “Now wait a minute. I’ve been supporting this team since before you were born and⁠—”

“Then you should know we’re here tonight raising money for kids and nothing else is important.”

“That’s not my point.”

“Then maybe your point isn’t needed.”

His mouth tightened. “You think the organization is happy about this he/she stuff?”

I glanced around the room. Walker had one arm around Finn while they argued over blackjack. An assistant coach was dancing badly with his wife. Chip was talking to Dane, who’d become a human wall to stop Chip having to talk to people unless he wanted to. Ryan was still laughing at the auction table, completely unaware. “Seems fine to me.”

“It’s humiliating to see, and upsetting.”

That one hurt, not because I believed it, but because Ryan had spent years believing comments like this. Hiding. Scrubbing glitter from his eyes. Changing his clothes before work. Believing that being himself would embarrass everyone around him.

“If it offends you, then you should leave.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What the hell?”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m a donor.”

“Then thank you for your donation.”

His jaw worked. “I’ll be speaking to someone about this.”

“Okay.”

“About both of you.”