Page 57 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
I’m not sure where I’m going, but I know where I’ve been and I’m not going back.
The end of the third period wraps up nicely with a three-one score in favor of the home team. Go Knights!
I’m not entirely sure what the protocol is, but since I got to sit in the VIP area with the wives and girlfriends who were at Beau’s birthday party, I try to pick up on what happens now. Dowe hang around here? Go home? Find a room with fizzy drinks and cake frosting to celebrate?
Meg, Micah’s wife, waves. “Good game, huh? Sorry, I wasn’t more chatty. When I’m able to come sans kids, I go laser-focused.”
“When Macy and Mason come, we get the full Lemon showcase,” Whit says. She holds a little girl’s hand. “Have you met Blue?”
She points at my sweatshirt—with Beau’s name. “We need to get you the tendie jersey.” She proudly shows off Redd’s.
“The tendie?”
“Goalie,” Blue clarifies, proud to know the hockey slang.
“We match,” Whitney says.
“Even our dog Baloo has one with number fifty-four, but he can’t come to games.”
We chat for a few more minutes as some of the other women cycle in and out of the area.
Delaney says, “I’d never seen Beau as animated as I did at his birthday party. Hayden agreed.”
Cara joins us. “Dadaszek says he’s been playing tighter than he ever has and that’s saying something since he’s the best goalie the Knights have ever had.”
“Dadaszek?” I ask, wondering if I misheard.
“That’s what she calls her dad, the coach.”
I ask, “Coach Badaszek is your father?”
Cara nods. “Hence theDadaszek. He only calls people by their last names, which was odd for my sisters and me, so we followed suit and Dadaszek it is.”
I chuckle.
“Is Beau as quiet at home as he is here?” Whit asks.
“Uh, I’m not sure since I’m not ordinarily here.”
“Well, one thing is for sure, we’ve never seen him this happy,” Meg says.
“Facts.” Harlow nods.
“Um, how can you tell he’s happy? I haven’t quite figured out the puzzle wrapped in a riddle that is Beau Hammer,” I bite my lip, wondering if they have any more insight.
“I saw his teeth for the first time in three years,” Meg says.
“She must mean he smiled, or at least smirked. Maybe spoke,” Delaney says.
We all laugh.
Gradually, everyone filters to the hall and then toward the locker room area where the guys exit in singles and pairs. Like after softball games when I was a kid, I feel like I should slap everyone five but resist the urge in case that’s weird.
Eventually, Beau appears, freshly showered. His gaze is dark at first and then he seems to brighten when he spots me.
I launch into him with my usual enthusiasm about the game which segues into the wedding because this was the last match before St. Patrick’s Day.
“I’ve been scrambling because some of the vendors had to reroute their deliveries, which in Manhattan is a logistical nightmare. I found a church off Wall Street to host our event with such short notice. The reception will be at the Garden House across from St. Patrick’s Cathedral as planned. I had to jump through flaming hoops and do everything short of donating a kidney to reserve the place for the Leprechauns, so I’m thankful we can use it after all.”
