Page 45 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

I screw the cap back onto the bottle, scoop up the keys, and grab the hoodie hanging off a kitchen stool.

CHAPTER 15

GABE

There are way more cars parked around the theater than I would have expected for a Monday evening ten days before Christmas Eve.

Especially when there can’t be anything going on in there, what with the fire damage and the fact the stage is covered with bits of scenery for the kids’ play.

I find a parking spot along the street and stride back along the salted sidewalk. Once I’ve got this tree painting done, I don’t have to see Natalie ever again. That’s definitely the best thing for both of us.

Turns out I don’t need the huge old key the custodian gave me after all, because the stage door is unlocked. And there’s a hubbub coming from inside that’s loud enough to hear over me stomping off my boots on the mat.

Dammit. So much for my theory that there’d be no one here.

I turn back and grab the door handle again—I should just leave. Engaging in small talk with some locals I’venever met before and explaining why I’m here isn’t something I’m in the mood for right now. Or ever, for that matter.

But also, if I don’t get this done, I’ll only have to come back another time when Natalie’s here. And I guess being uncomfortable around strangers is preferable to being uncomfortable around her.

So I let go of the door and make my way along the hallway that’s littered with all kinds of theatrical debris including a box that, for some reason, has a toy donkey head sticking out of it. Pulling off my beanie and unzipping my parka, I make my way to the wings and discover the chatter is coming from the stage. There must be a dozen, maybe fifteen people up there—whether it can still hold the weight of that many bodies at once remains to be seen.

They all have their backs to me and are putting on coats and gloves and saying things like “Shame we missed him,” “Maybe next time,” and “I’ll see if I can come again.”

The group parts to reveal Natalie standing on the other side of them facing me. I duck a little farther behind the curtain.

“Thank you for coming though,” she says. “And for doing what you could. It’s great to have you back.”

Out of nowhere a man rounds the curtain and almost smacks right into me.

“Sorry, pal,” he says, then takes a step back to look me up and down. “Hey, he’s here,” he calls at a volume usually used by an opposition fan shouting obscenities from row Z.

Everyone on the stage does a one-eighty to face me.Except Natalie. She just moves her gaze until it meets mine between the bevy of people.

The instant our eyes connect it’s like a slapshot to my heart that forces me back onto my heels. This is exactly what I was afraid of, exactly why I needed to not see her.

“Oh, you found him,” cries a woman with long blond, poofy hair, whose attire and makeup would make you think she was on her way to a nightclub. She click-clacks toward me on heels that can’t be doing much for the stability of the fire-damaged floorboards.

The man grabs my hand—that I was not offering him—and shakes it. “I hate the Apollos.” Good to know. “Like, really hate them. With a passion.” Nice that he’s being clear. “But, man, the way you played against Dallas in last season’s playoffs.” He shakes his head in disbelief that any member of such a loathsome team could possibly be in possession of that kind of skill and finishes with a slap on my upper arm.

Thankfully it was on the side of my good shoulder or he might have found himself wearing that donkey head.

“You look so much better without all that gear on,” Nightclub Woman says, fluttering eyelids that shimmer with more colors than a peacock’s tail. “Doesn’t he?” She turns around and beckons the others forward to inspect the exhibit.

The mutterings of five or six approaching women would suggest that I do indeed look better without “all that gear.”

“Hey, dude.” A middle-aged man pushes his way between the women. “Have you ever thought about having your right hand about two inches farther down the stick? You’d be amazed how much more zip youget.”

No. I have not.

He taps his nose then my chest and drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And just try to straighten your right arm a bit.”

I’ll be sure to write that down.

My personal space is invaded further by the numerous hands extended toward me, which I shake because what the hell else can I do? I’m not even sure I’m smiling. It’s hard when you’re being treated like a sighting of the vaquita—the world’s rarest marine mammal. There’re only about ten of them left.

“Okay, everyone,” Natalie’s voice cuts through. “So great you were all able to suddenly find time in your busy schedules to come in this evening. Such a surprise.” She widens her eyes at me in a we’re-on-the-same-side kind of way, which is not unpleasing. “But I have to get the theater locked up or I’ll be in trouble.”

The gaggle of rubberneckers shuffles past, looking at me and commenting to each other under their breath like I’m a stuffed museum specimen and they can’t quite decide if I’ve lived up to expectations.

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