Page 34 of Hard Check
Leo’s response came in under a minute.
Staring at my ceiling. Thrilling stuff. Why?
Come to The Penalty Box tonight. Seven o’clock.
Why? What’s at seven?
Dawson felt the corner of his mouth pull into a smile. He could tell Leo what he had in mind, but it was really one of those things he’d have to see to believe.
Come find out.
You’re on.
I’ll pick you up. Quarter to seven. What’s your address?
Dawson set the phone face-down on the seat and sat there for a minute. He’d invited Leo to The Penalty Box on meat raffle night. He wasn’t ready to come out yet, but he hoped Leo understood that this was him trying. Dawson wanted to spend more time with Leo, and it wouldn’t be strange for the two of them to be seen together when half the town would be there. They could just be two friends hoping to win while supporting a good cause.
Dawson pulledinto Leo’s apartment complex at six-forty and texted that he was outside. He sat with the engine running, both hands on the wheel, trying to remind himself that this wasn’t a date. There was nothing to freak out about.
Leo came down in an expensive-looking leather jacket, dark jeans that accentuated his strong thighs, and boots that had never touched mud. His hair was perfectly styled as if he was headed for a night on the town, not to the local dive bar.
He climbed into the passenger seat, pulled the door shut, and the cab got smaller. “All right, I’m here. What’s the big surprise?”
“Meat raffle.”
Leo waited, like there had to be more. When there wasn’t, he turned his head and stared. “What in the hell is a meat raffle?”
“You buy a paddle with a number on it. They call numbers. You win meat.”
“You win meat?”
It was cute seeing Leo so utterly confused. “Steaks, brats, bacon. Whatever the butcher puts together.”
“Is this an actual thing or are you trying to screw with the city boy?”
“Place’ll be packed.” Dawson reached across the console and patted Leo’s knee. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but the sharp intake of breath made him want to leave his hand there, maybe move it a little higher just to see how Leo would react.
Leo faced forward again. The corner of his mouth pulled up, and Dawson caught it in his peripheral vision. He shook his head and chuckled. “Wisconsin is like living on a different planet.”
“Yeah, but it’s not all bad.” Dawson wanted to help Leo see that this wasn’t the hell he probably felt like he’d been sentenced to when he was traded to the Stags.
The Penalty Box lot was full, so Dawson parked on the street two blocks down. It wasn’t cold yet, not really, but the air had turned in the last week, the kind of night where you could smell the lake and the leaves at the same time. Dawson kept his hand stuffed in this pockets to keep from reaching for Leo’s.
“It’s freezing,” Leo said.
“It’s fifty degrees.”
“That’s freezing.”
“You play hockey. You make your living on ice.”
“That’s completely different. On the ice, I’m moving. Out here, I’m just suffering.” Leo hunched deeper into his jacket. “This is October. What happens in January?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Main Street was empty except for the glow and noise spilling from the bar’s windows. Leo fell into step beside him, near enough that their arms almost touched.
Inside was wall-to-wall people. The heat hit first, then the noise, then the smell of beer and fried food and too many people in too small a space. Every booth was full. People lined the bar three deep, and the folding table near the back was stacked with white butcher paper-wrapped packages, each one labeled with a black marker. Kids in Lakeshore youth hockey jerseys weaved through the crowd, selling paint paddles with numbers scrawled on them in Sharpie for a buck apiece.
