Sugar and Ice - RJ Scott Page 0,38

the fan.”

I nodded. What else could I say? He was right. Life was nothing but shit splattering through fans.

“The lawyer sounds optimistic,” I said as I backed out of my parking slot and eased into late afternoon traffic.

“I didn’t do it. I wasn’t even around on the dates she said it happened. I just… I cannot believe she made an official complaint! Like, what the fuck!”

He railed and shouted and punched his thighs the whole way home. He was still steaming mad when we stopped at my neighbors’ to pick up Frank. Tom and his wife had an African Gray called Molly, and so were well acquainted with parrot care. Frank and Molly were friends, and enjoyed each other’s company, so Tom and Mona were my parrot sitters when I traveled.

Frank took a lap around my condo before settling on Tate’s shoulder, something that I was shocked to see. Perhaps the bird could sense his unhappy spirit. Or perhaps he was just a grape trollop. Whatever the case Tate sat on the sofa, feeding Frank treats as I threw together a quick dinner for the two of us. Our phones were off for the night to give Tate some respite. After a light meal of beef strips over wild rice, salad, and sparkling water, we put Frank to bed.

“Does he always curse at you when you put him to bed?” Tate asked.

“Mm, yes, the cursing is my fault. You take the bedroom. I will go sleep in my guest room.”

Tate paused by the large crate that now was covered with a sheet. His gaze found mine. “Why are you sleeping in another room?”

“I thought you should rest without me rutting against you. I seem to have a weakness for you and cannot keep my hands to myself.”

He smiled. It was the first smile that I’d seen on him since this latest mess had blown up. “I like you rutting on me.”

With that knowledge, I led him to my bed, stripped him of every last stitch of clothing, and gathered him close to me. Somehow I managed to keep my cock to myself, and Tate slept fitfully curled into my side. Whatever came at us next I felt that we’d grown closer today and could handle anything fate threw at us.

Fate was a miserable cow-faced, trinket-loving whore.

Our first game back from that tumultuous Canadian road trip was against the Harrisburg Railers. I had great respect for the Railers. They’d been one of the top teams in the league for a few years, solid, cohesive, and incredibly inclusive. Everything that I hoped to see the Raptors become. I was good friends with Stan; he and I were part of a Russian group on Facebook and often spoke online about life in America.

Also, I enjoyed playing them. They never slacked off or played a B-game even though we were not quite at the same level they were. Yet. Trying to defend against Tennant Rowe-Madsen was challenging and invigorating. Or used to be. Tonight the man was working under my skin like a rotted sliver.

Andre had been relegated to sitting on the bench, and Colorado was in net. Tate and Tennant had spent a long time chatting before we had changed, then during warm-up, and even now when they were on the ice at the same time they were talking. And smiling. And laughing at jokes that they didn’t share with the others. Others like me. By the second period the friendly banter between the two was making my teeth grate. Rowe-Madsen took advantage of my irritation with his pretty face. He was fast and agile. Trying to catch him was like trying to capture mercury with chopsticks. Tonight, he was extra flashy, extra smiley, extra pretty, and Tate was enraptured, I was sure of it. So, I got stupid and checked Rowe into my own goalie by mistake. Well the check wasn’t a mistake. That was on purpose, but him flying into Penn and knocking him off his skates wasn’t intended.

As soon as I hit him I knew that I’d made a mistake, and I knew exactly what it was I was feeling. None of my trouble was with Tennant. It was with me. I was feeling jealous. It was a foreign emotion to me, as I had high self-confidence. Mulling over why I was being such a fucking jerk, I planted my ass on the bench, let Coach yell at the back of my head because the shouting was deserved, and then