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“Laura Mohr, as I live and breathe.”
In spite of herself, Laura cracked a grin as Shoresy walked over to her as she stood by the doors of the community center. “Hey Shoresy.”
He smiled back at her as he leaned against one of the locked doors. “You here to finally let me take you out for some nice banh mi and Vietnamese coffee?”
“I don’t know, I hear that stuff is pretty strong,” she replied, hitching up her purse. “I don’t know if they should let you near that much caffeine."
“Laura, there is no drink out there that will make my heart race as much as it is right now looking at you,” he said, looking at her fondly.
“You might need to get that checked out,” Laura joked as she crossed her arms, trying her best to hide how charmed she was.
“You laugh, but it feels like a hummingbird in my chest right now.”
“Shoresy,” she said, trying not to smile.
“No really,” he replied, his missing tooth on full display as he smiled back at her. “It’s like a full colony of bees just buzzing around in there.”
“You ready for this charity game,” Laura asked, quickly changing the subject away from whatever fast moving insect was controlling Shoresy’s heart.
“Oh yeah, us versus the fuckin’ Cincinnati Coneys trying to ride our coattails while we’re on our way to becoming the best team in the NOSHO,” Shoresy said, rolling his eyes. “What the fuck is a Coney, anyway?”
He let out his usual “Huh?,” which Laura met in unison. She then replied with, “It’s a reference to how they take their hot dogs down there. Apparently they’re just covered in chili and cheese.”
“Really,” Shoresy said, surprised. “Well, maybe we can force Peppi Panini to make them for us after we kick their asses.”
“For you and the team?”
“For me and you, Laura.”
Laura scratched at her eyebrow, trying not to laugh. She was failing. “So you’re not nervous?”
“Why would I be,” Shoresy replied with a self-assured grin. “It’s a fucking charity game with the Guardians’ third string team while we’re on the best streak ever in the NOSHO. We got this in the bag.”
Laura pulled out her notepad and pen. “Can I quote you on that?”
“You can quote me on anything you want, Mohr.”
Laura dodged his flirty glance as she opened up her notepad. “So what about the addition the Coneys just announced for this weekend, then? Care to comment about that?”
Shoresy scrunched up his face in confusion as he straightened up, his previous attempts at being charming abandoned. “Who?”
——
“Hey Nat, why the fuck is Dallas Kent playing this fuckin’ charity game?”
Nat gave an annoyed sigh from her spot in the bleachers as Shoresy sat down next to her. Though somehow that sigh was less directed at Shoresy for once. “I don’t know, Shoresy. I’m just assuming that…”
“Huh?”
Nat pursed her lips. Now the annoyance was getting directed back at Shoresy. “That Toronto is trying to give him good PR before he goes on trial, so he’s playing some charity games with the Coneys in the ECHL.”
She looked over at Shoresy, who just looked massively confused. Which was normal for a slut like him, but she was also confused about this particular line of logic. “But he’s about to go on trial for sexual assault, right?”
“Yes, indeed he is.”
“So playing with the ECHL against a Senior Triple A Whaleshit Hockey team for charity in Northern Ontario is supposed to make him look less desperate for good press? Like why the fuck is he even allowed outside of Toronto? Especially after some broads in fuckin’ ski masks or whatever they’re called have beat the shit out of him with their shoes like… what, four times now? Five?”
Nat desperately wanted to argue, especially with his use of the word “broads,” but Shoresy was making good points for once in his life that she could let it slide. “I don’t know, Shoresy. The whole thing was sprung on me last second and I want him here even less than you do.”
Shoresy spat into his spitter cup and then put it back down as he looked back over the Bulldogs’ barn. “God, if only Ryan Price was still playing. That guy could fuckin’ fight and was a solid D-man. Instead of this titfucker bringing his rancid energy around here. So dumb…”
Nat smirked at that statement. “Didn’t take you for an energy guy, slut.”
Shoresy rolled his eyes. “I’m not, but cunts like Kent definitely have something that fucks it up for everyone else around him.”
A silence fell between the two as they watched the Zamboni driver go by, the sound seemingly vibrating the air in the room. Nat wasn’t certain what to do. The game was supposed to raise money for youth leagues around Sudbury with the extra hope of selling more of the player calendars to get them closer to their goal for the National Senior Tournament, but Kent being foisted on them without warning put that all in jeopardy. The man had been a slow acting poison since the initial allegations came out and his teammate Troy Barrett was suddenly traded to Ottawa after calling him out. Then the charges came down, then he very publicly got attacked by a gang of club girls with their shoes multiple times, and to top it all off, there were recent allegations of virulent homophobia after Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov went public with their relationship that only seemed to have growing corroborations from Barrett and other former teammates.
And now, he was being turned into the NOSHO’s problem for the weekend.
Fucking stellar.
“Yeahso… what do you wanna do about it, Nat?”
Nat looked over at Shoresy, who had that conspiratorial glint in his eye that he got right before he planned to do something that was usually ill-advised.
Which might be the right thing to do for once.
She stood up and smoothed out her coat, looking straight ahead. She needed to give herself plausible deniability at this moment. Not that anyone would doubt her word over Shoresy’s usually, but she needed to brace herself for the words she was about to say.
“Give him the fucking lumber.”
Nat let the words hang in the air for a few seconds before she cast her eyes down at Shoresy, who just gave a shit eating grin as he stood up and walked away from her. “Oh Nat, I never thought you’d ask.”
——
“Hey Kent, how did you manage to chew off your house arrest bracelet,” Shoresy chirped as he skated by Dallas Kent during warmups. It was not lost on him that the rest of the Coneys were giving him a wide berth. “Or did Roger Crowell cut it off for you?”
“Fuck off, 69,” Kent shouted, not looking up.
“I’d ask if you’re having a Cincinnati 3-Way, but I think that violates your parole.”
Kent stopped stretching and finally looked up at Shoresy. “You got anything better to do, Shore?”
Shoresy just gave him a shit-eating grin as he leaned down to look at Kent. “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to make sure you left your roofies at home.”
“The fuck you say to me,” Kent yelled as he scrambled to get back on his feet.
Shoresy just laughed as he saw Hitch and Dolo skate up in the corner of his eye. “Hey, you think those broads will storm the ice and beat you with shoes for the hundredth time? Cause it would probably be less embarrassing than playing on a team named after a fucking hot dog.”
Kent tried to push towards Shoresy, but Dolo and Hitch put themselves between them pretty quickly, causing him to back away. “I’m gonna kick your fuckin’ ass, bitch,” he spat as he skated away.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna kick yours first,” Shoresy shouted down the ice
“Jaysus, what was that all about, b’y,” Hitch asked, turning back to Shoresy as soon as Kent was far enough down the ice that he wasn’t a problem.
“Just giving our esteemed guest the Sudbury Blueberry Bulldogs welcome,” Shoresy said with a fake grin.
“Is that what that is,” Dolo asked in Quebecois.
“I mean, I generally prefer doing it with a committee,” Shoresy mused conspiratorially.
Hitch and Dolo matched Shoresy’s own grin. “All you have to do is ask, b’y.”
“Look at me, already doing better than Dallas fuckin’ Kent,” Shoresy said, dropping his voice and bumping their gloves.
——
“Hey Kent,” Shoresy shouted as he skated into the face off circle. The crowd was buzzing already and there were definitely a fair amount of boos for Kent. “You ready to experience a Sudbury Saturday Night?”
Kent looked up with his eyes, then spat on the ice. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
Shoresy leaned down into the circle and placed his stick into position. “Oh, nothing much, Tom Connors. Just that you’re about to get stomped.”
Kent rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Can’t wait to get out of this dump.”
Shoresy just grinned. “Well, you’re gonna get that wish one way or another, titfucker.”
The ref blew the whistle and dropped the puck, but instead of going for the face off, Shoresy hooked the blade of his stick inside Kent’s ankle and pulled. Kent toppled over onto the ice as his leg popped out from under him. Quickly, Shoresy dropped his stick and gloves and hastily climbed over Kent to start punching him.
He could hear the refs and linesmen blow their whistles and he could hear the rest of the team start to get into it with the Cincinnati team while the crowd roared in approval, but he focused on beating the fuck out of Dallas Kent as he weakly tried to block his face. Shoresy was able to break through pretty quickly and a couple of satisfying punches right to his jaw. He started to reach to rip his helmet off, but he was stopped by the refs pulling him off. Shoresy struggled against them as they pulled him up and away from Kent, who tried to stand back up. Shoresy could see him spitting up blood, which made him smile again. “What’s the matter, Kent? Crowell not gonna put out for a nose job?!”
Kent tried to skate towards Shoresy, but a linesman hastily tried to hold him back, clearly appearing overwhelmed. Shoresy looked around and saw that the bench had cleared on both sides and the Bulldogs were just beating the fuck out of everyone. Dolo and the Jims especially were giving the business to at least two lines worth of defensemen. In the crowd, the Bluester Club yelled and banged their hands on the Plexiglass.
It was moments like this that Shoresy really loved hockey.
He turned back to see Kent being skated off the ice and decided, what the hell, at least make a break for it.
Shoresy muscled his way out of the grip of the refs and practically zoomed towards Kent to punch him in the back of the neck.
——
Danis: Nathalie, what happened today at the charity game is inexcusable.
Danis: However, due to the circumstances of this happening during a non-sanctioned exhibition match along with myself, Aki, and Nina agreeing that Dallas Kent is a reprehensible monster who doesn’t deserve to mop the beer up from the floors of your barn, let alone play hockey in any league, we are choosing to look the other way this one time.
Danis: If another fight like that occurs during the regular season, we will be forced to take action.
Danis: Are we understood?
Nat: Yes, Danis. Understood.
Danis: Thank you for your attention to this matter. We will not be speaking about it again and we hope you will extend the same discretion if asked.
Danis: I hope your goals were achieved.
Nat: $5,000 and counting for Sudbury’s youth leagues. Another $1,000 for the National Senior Tournament bid.
Danis: Excellent. Keep up the good work. Best of luck for the rest of the season.
Nat: Thank you, Danis. We’re never losing again.
Nat breathed a sigh of relief as she placed her phone on her desk. She could hear the team filing out of the locker room from outside the door, but she stayed where she was at.
The game had basically been a wash from the jump. After the fight had been cleared and the blood cleaned off the ice, the Coneys had tried to refuse to play, but were strong-armed by Danis, Nina, and Aki over the contract that was signed. They then proceeded to get speedbagged for the rest of the game, eventually losing 7-0.
All things considered, it was exactly what she had hoped for with this endeavor.
“Hey Nat?”
Nat looked up and saw Shoresy standing in front of her, looking like he did that afternoon, but with a couple of scratch marks on his face from Dallas Kent’s poor attempts to fight back. “Yes Shoresy?”
“So was that what you were hoping for?”
She smirked at that question. “I think you overdelivered between that fight and pumping them seven-goose. Thank you, Shoresy.”
Shoresy just stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Well, don’t play if you can’t win. And maybe don’t get on the ice if you keep getting mobbed by broads with shoes.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Nat replied as she stood up. “But you definitely seemed a bit more… enthusiastic than usual.”
Shoresy sucked his teeth and sighed. “Yeah well, it just seemed like something Carrie would want me to do.”
Nat raised an eyebrow. “Your sister?”
Shoresy ducked his head, which Nat knew from experience was usually the first sign he was trying not to cry. “Yeahso… she’s a social worker and she doesn’t go into specifics cause privacy and shit, but I know she deals with kids that have had fuckers like Dallas Kent in their lives. Wanted to give them a win.”
Shoresy sniffed and Nat felt something in her heart soften. He didn’t need to elaborate. Instead, she just picked up her purse and walked out from behind her desk. “Walk me to my car, slut?”
Shoresy let out a laugh as he wiped at his eyes and looked back at her. “Sure Nat. Want me to pick you up like Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard too?”
Nat rolled her eyes as she walked out the door. “Fuck you, Shoresy.”
Shoresy let out a laugh as he turned out the lights behind her. “For what?!”
——
Katy: Hey, did you see that video of Dallas Kent?
Harris: Obviously!! It was the first thing I showed Troy this morning and I’ve already sent it to Ilya!
Harris: I’m not one to endorse a fight, but he got what he deserved. 🥊🥊
Katy: Funny enough, the guy kicking his ass used to play in Letterkenny.
Katy: He was also wheeling Reilly and Jonesy’s moms at some point.
Harris: O M G 😱😱😱
Harris: At the same time???
Harris: …tho, I kind of get it? 👀👀
Katy: I’m telling Troy you’re eyeing other hockey players.
Harris: KATY NO I AM NOT
——
“Hey Shane,” Ilya shouted from the couch the next morning. “Want to see a video of Dallas Kent getting the shit beat out of him?”
“Is he still getting pummeled by shoes,” Shane asked as he walked into the living room, two mugs of coffee in hand.
“Yes, but not this time,” Ilya replied as he reached for his husband and the promised coffee cup. “Looks like this was a fight at some sort of charity game.”
Shane handed Ilya his coffee and leaned in for a kiss before he sat down next to him. Ilya gratefully did so as he let Shane get in close with him. “Oh yeah, I heard Crowell has him on some sort of rehabilitation tour or whatever with the ECHL.”
“Yeah, well, his reputation is not gonna be the only thing needing rehab,” Ilya mused as he took a sip of his coffee.
“So what, he got the shit kicked out of him by whaleshit hockey players?”
Ilya just looked at Shane somewhat confused as he grabbed his phone. “Senior AAA hockey apparently.”
Shane just looked back with a smirk. “Whaleshit all the same.”
Ilya sighed dramatically. “Some day, either you or Harris are going to teach me all these stupid Canadian things you say.”
Shane laughed as he put his coffee down before laying his head on Ilya’s chest. “You’d rather learn from me, trust me.”
“Yeah, I’d probably get a blowjob out of it, at least.”
“Fuck you,” Shane said affectionately, like he used to when they first started hooking up.
“Later,” Ilya purred as he pressed play on the video.