Page 34 of Ice Dance

We passed another little corner store, its windows crowded with handwritten signs and beer ads. A guy smoking beside the door lifted two fingers at Saga.

“Salut,” Saga said, without breaking his stride.

That was kinda how it was around here. Messy and familiar.

We stopped outside Saga’s little block of apartments. It was one of the old brick walk-ups, balconies stacked above us and a rust-spotted metal staircase clinging to the front. The locks had been changed a few times, leaving holes in the main door. I didn’t even think it could lock anymore. Someone in one of the apartments a few stories up was yelling. The TV yelled back, in French.

“You wanna come up?” he asked. “Smoke a few and fuck around?”

“No I do not,” I laughed and waved him off, already walking away. “Get busy with your hand, and keep me out of your head.”

“No promises!”

Saga was a blast, a great friend, but also one of those people who embraced chaos and risk. I could take my fair share of those things, but I’d learned when to stop and back off. He took everything one step too far. And when you’d already run headlong into trouble, that one step could ruin everything.

“See you at the studio tomorrow, mon beau.”

I waved over my shoulder. “Bright an’ early.”

Friday night came around, signaling the weekend. I had tutoring in the morning, so a later start than usual, which meant when the call from Casey came in, I jumped at the chance for a night out. I met him and Jen at a local noodle place. It was late for dinner, but we’d all had long days.

We talked about training, about endlessly sharpening skates. We each had multiple pairs, but it was always the favorites that blunted too soon. We ate and talked. Casey came preloaded with all the team gossip, things I didn’t get to hear since I was training outside the usual venues. I found training in the big rinks too distracting. Drama always found me, and I struggled to step away once I’d gotten tangled in it. Small and quieter kept me focused.

I’d had the same problem at school. If there was a fight, I was always in the middle of it, even when I didn’t start it. It just happened. Drove my parents crazy. My mom still called every Sunday from outside Saint-Jérôme to check I wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. She’d told me one day I’d have “I didn’t start it” written on my gravestone. Funny how that’s what I’d claimed after trying to punch Hasegawa. I clearly hadn’t changed much.

“You heard about Hasegawa?”

“I heard he’s out.” I was getting better at pretending I didn’t give a shit about Hasegawa.

Casey had sensed something had happened at selection, although he’d never asked. The rumors after hadn’t helped, and that damn TV interview had ambushed me. At least whatever footage was out there of us dancing was too blurry to matter.

“That’s karma for you,” Casey said.

We’d finished up our meal and were making moves to head to the bar down the street. The waiter left the bill. I glimpsed the amount and pulled my card from my wallet.

“I heard it was an injury,” I said.

“Let me get this,” Casey said, already dumping his card on the slip.

“I can pay, Case.”

“Nah, it’s good. My treat. You get the next one.”

Jen gave me the sorry frown, then smiled, which told me not to make a thing of it.

“I’d have an injury too if I had to dance with him,” she said.

I really did not want to talk about Hasegawa. “I don’t like to see anyone going out with an injury. Could be any of us, right? Can’t control what breaks.”

We left the restaurant and walked to the bar. Jen stuck close to my side while Casey strode ahead. He had that star player swagger. You know the sort: always on the football team, coach’s favorite. He reminded me of me if I hadn’t been such a screwup when it mattered.

“He’ll be back,” Casey was saying, hands tucked in his pockets. He turned and walked backward, talking to us as he did. “Guys like him always have a backup plan.”

“Maybe”

Hasegawa hadn’t called again since I’d ignored him a week ago. If he had a backup plan, it didn’t involve me. Which was fine. I had my selection. I was in on my own merit. The Meridian might not let him back in with another partner anyway, even if he could find one who would work with him. He’d have to scrape the bottom of the barrel, and Hasegawa was too good for the dregs.

It was a shame. Asshole that he was, the man had amazing skill. I hated to see that go to waste. But he’d also ditched me on selection day like a jilted bride at the altar, so fuck him.