Chapter Text
Connor pushes open the glass front door of the skating rink and is met with the sounds of children screaming. He walks up to the front desk and smiles at, presumably, one of his new coworkers. The guy is tall, bald, and wearing a t-shirt that says 'My favorite cousin made me this shirt' with a woman's selfie on it.
"Good morning, I'm Connor. Just got hired. I'm looking for Ryan. He's going to be training me I think?"
The guy picks up a piece of paper from behind the desk, frowns at it, and then holds up his finger to indicate that he needs a moment. He picks up an ancient-looking corded telephone that has fake orange fur covering the receiver and dials a number.
"Nugs, did we hire someone?...You know I never know what's going on! They don't tell me shit...Haha...Ok." The guy hangs up and turns back to Connor.
"I'm Nursey. Leon's actually going to be the one training you today. He's down at the rink. Do you need skates or did you bring your own?"
Shit. "Oh, no, I didn't know I needed to bring my own. I do have my own, somewhere. I might have to ask my parents–"
Nursey cuts him off. "What size?"
Connor feels like he's bobbling this already. He tells Nurse and waits for him to retrieve the skates from the wall of rentals.
"Here ya go. Just bring them back at the end of your shift."
"And when will that be?"
"I don't know. I didn't even know you were gonna be here today. But nice to meet you, Connor." Nurse turns to an also-ancient-looking desktop computer to his right and begins typing and clicking.
Connor awkwardly shuffles over to some benches (carved with hundreds of initials and other graffiti) to lace up. It's been a while since he's skated. He had hoped he would just be working the desk or the concession stand here. But it's okay. The place seems cool. He puts his shoes in a cubby nearby and hops the boards onto the ice.
He is immediately run into by a screaming little girl and gets knocked on his face. The girl, fully under him, starts bawling. Connor scrambles to his feet and grabs her under her armpits to pull her up. She hangs limp, not helping him at all, snot bubbling out of her nose to run with the tears.
"It's okay, it's okay," he shushes.
"DAISY!"
Connor is so startled by the yell that he almost drops the girl (which would not improve the situation at all). Still holding her out at arms length, he turns to the owner of the voice. The guy is wearing a backward hat and frowning down at the girl. She looks up at him and...starts to giggle.
"Why are you crying on my ice?"
"I fell down."
"So? You got back up didn't you?"
"Mmhmm."
"So go skate some more, you buckethead!"
Now she collapses into giggles, shaking Connor's arms. "Buckethead!" she squeals.
Connor just gently lowers her to the ice. Daisy wobbles away from them.
Connor can't recover from the situation fast enough before Mr. Buckethead is chastising him. "Next time, watch where you're going when you're getting on."
"I was!" Connor manages to sputter. "She ran into me!"
Buckethead raises an eyebrow. "Go on, keep blaming the little girl."
"I'm not. I–" Most unfortunately, Connor notices that this guy has a name tag on that reads 'Leon'. "Oh, I'm supposed to, um, Nursey said you're supposed to train me."
Leon looks at Connor like he's a jockstrap on the floor. "I didn't know we had anyone starting today."
"Yeah, neither did he. I guess there's been a lack of communication."
Leon rolls his eyes. "Nuge's been a little distracted since his kid arrived."
"Nuge? Is that Ryan?"
"Yep."
"So we don't use anyone's real names here I guess? That's cool. This place is cool." Leon keeps staring at him.
"I'm Connor, by the way. Um, I'm not sure what my nickname would be. All the ones my brother gave me growing up are not appropriate."
"Condom," Leon says immediately.
"That was one, yes."
Leon takes off and Connor hurries to catch up. Leon skates until he hits the far back half-wall and hops up on top. He pats the space next to him. Connor hops up beside him (just as gracefully, let it be noted).
"This is pretty much it for the rink," Leon says. "I just make sure the kids aren't being stupid. Sometimes we bring the nets and stuff out and they want to play a little shinny. They like me for some reason."
"Yeah, you seemed really good with Daisy."
Leon shuffles and sighs. "I don't really know what else to tell you. I'm not sure what they're gonna have you doing."
"Yeah, I wasn't given a lot of information."
Leon hops off the wall, turns, and claps Connor on the back. "Since you're here though, I'm gonna take my break. Be back in fifteen."
"Oh, uh, okay," Connor says, but Leon is already too far away to hear him.
Connor surveys the rink. Besides Daisy, who is thankfully still upright and happy, there are around 30 other people on the ice. Everyone is going in a circle and talking with their associated group. Connor relaxes for the first time since he walked in the door. This was great. He could do this all day.
The lights go dim.
"Aaaaaaaaall right, it's the top of the hour, so you all know what that means!" a voice booms over a PA somewhere.
The kids start losing their minds and shrieking. Connor winces.
A different voice. "It's SUPER RAUCOUS FUN TIME WOOOOOOOOO!"
The kids somehow manage to scream even louder.
"Neooooon Leooooon, come and get our game all set up."
"Wait, Skins, that's not Leon."
"Oh ho, you're right, Skins. Mysterious Ginger Man, get on over here, puh-lease."
I am not a ginger, Connor wants to point out. It's strawberry blonde. And where is over here? He can barely see anything. He just starts skating toward the middle of the floor, weaving around the excited little bodies and exasperated parents. Now he can see a little booth set up on the opposite side with amplification equipment surrounding it. Two guys are shoved into it. Connor stops in front of them.
"Hey, I'm Connor, I'm new--"
"CONNERRRRRR" the guy on the right booms into the mic. "If you direct your attention to the closet on my right, you will find the set-up for limboooooooooo." This gets another scream out of the kids.
"Limbo, ok." Connor fumbles with the door and has to shove a bunch of beach balls and pool noodles that fell out back into the space before he finds the limbo bar. He carries it to the middle of the ice.
"EVERYONE WHO'S PLAYING MAKE AN ORDERLY, LET ME SAY THAT AGAIN, OR-DER-LY LINE BEHIND MR. CONNOR."
Ah, geez. Connor is sweating trying to get the sides to stay up and the bar to be evenly sticking out and balanced on them. He has to tell the kid in front to back up a bit to give him some room. He earns a huff in response. Once he gets it, he raises a thumbs up to the guys in the booth.
"LET'S RIDE!"
Some weird music starts playing and the kids go. The second kid knocks the bar off and Connor clambers to fix it.
On and on and on they go. When it gets down to the final two, he gets his first good look at the emcee duo, since they come to the ice. One is super tall, maybe even taller than Nurse, with a long flow and a mustache. The other is clean-shaven with curly hair. He currently has the mic. He steps up to one of the contenders, standing completely in front of Connor to do so.
"To no one's surprise, it comes down to Ray--" Everyone claps and Ray pumps his fists in the air. "--and Braxton!" The other little boy does a Fortnite dance to thunderous cheer. "I swear we saw this just last week, right, Skins?"
Mustache nods. "And Braxton took it. Will it be a repeat? Or will we have a new champion? What do you think?"
The kids start screaming out "Ray!" or "Braxton!" Connor's ears ring.
"Let's find out. Drop! That! Bar!"
Oh, that's me. Connor lowers the limbo bar to the bottom rung. Ray steps up. He makes it under all the way to his nose, which knocks one side loose.
"Shhh shhh, everyone. Braxton! You have to make it all the way under to win!" Curly thunders.
Connor fixes the game. Braxton, not even hesitating, bends back in half and clears the bar.
"LET'S GOOOOOO" he roars, doing a victory celly around the rink. He gets as many boos as cheers. Connor thinks this must happen a lot.
"THAT'S ALL FOR THIS HOUR'S RAUCOUS FUN TIME WITH SKINS AND SKINS! NOW LET'S JAM!"
"Play ‘Astronaut in the Ocean’!" some kid yells at Curly Skins.
"Absolutely not, I'm sick of that song."
Mustache Skins skates over to help Connor take the limbo equipment back to the storage closet.
"Thanks."
"Sure. I'm Stu, by the way. That's Jeff. Both of our last names are Skinner, so that's why it's Skins and Skins."
"Oh, are you guys brothers?"
"Nope."
"Oh. Yeah, I don't know why I said that. You don't look alike."
Stu just grins at him. "Welcome to the rink crew. If you have any questions, just let us know."
"I have a lot of questions actually. Leon kind of abandoned me. I didn't even know about Raucous Fun Time." Connor feels bad for throwing Leon under the bus, but he wants the Skinners to know why he didn't know what he was doing.
"Yeah sure, RFT is at the top of every hour. We just rotate the games out. Uhh, people can make music requests to us in the booth. If it's someone's birthday we have a song we'll do. Sometimes we play shinny. Sometimes a dance battle breaks out. It just depends on the day."
"What game is going to be next hour?" Connor wants to be more prepared.
"I don't know, man, we just pick something." Ugh.
"Is there like a list of options I can look at?"
Jeff suddenly joins them by slinging an arm around both Connor and Stu's necks (somehow) and pulling them all together. "I was really hoping Ray would get it this time. I'm sick of seeing Braxton win. He needs to be humbled."
Stu laughs. "Why are you beefing with a little kid?"
"I'm just saying!" Jeff looks at Connor. "Seriously, it's getting old. Hi, my name Jeff."
"Connor."
"Yeah, you said. Do you work here now?"
"Yes."
"Be a little faster on that limbo setup next time." Jeff winks at him and skates off. Stu looks at Connor apologetically before following.
Leon never comes back. Connor's shift ends at 5, as it happens, when a serious gray-haired man comes up to the rink entrance and beckons him over. Connor's heart seizes.
The man turns out to be Kris, the owner, the one Connor spoke to on the phone for his interview. He takes Connor to his office.
The office is a far cry from the rink. The walls are bare. The desk is as well, save for a sleek laptop and a pen cup.
"Connor, I want to apologize for your first day experience here. This is not how I wanted things to be done."
"I had a great first day, sir."
"I told you that Ryan would be training you, and it was my understanding that he did not do so."
Connor squirms in his chair. "Ryan didn't, but Leon did. Kind of."
"Kind of?" Connor explains.
Kris looks mortified. "I am so sorry. I will be having a talk with Leon about his extended break."
Uh-oh.
Kris then reaches over and pulls some papers off a small printer behind him. "Here is your schedule for this week. I've also given you a list of rink rules and regulations for your reference. This page has the url where you can buy your uniform polo shirt. Dark slacks or khakis are appropriate for bottoms. Close-toed shoes or skates for footwear. I'll get you a name tag ordered this week as well."
"Thank you."
"One last thing." Kris produces a sticky note and writes a phone number on it. "I'm not always on site, but please don't hesitate to text or call if you need anything. Definitely let me know if the others are not doing what they're supposed to."
Connor thanks him again before heading out. He likes Kris. And he likes the job, for now.
As soon as Connor walks in the next day, a guy hops up from the group of chairs by the door to greet him. He almost spills his to-go coffee in the process.
"Hey! I'm Nuge. I am so sorry about yesterday, my wife had an appointment run late, so I had to stay with our daughter and I just lost track of time. I'm the manager here, though, so I'll be doing your training." He chugs about half of the coffee before resuming. "I just have to remember where I put my shit."
Nursey is posted at the front desk again. "Whatcha need?" he calls.
"Where's the clipboard checklist thingy?"
He digs through, Connor counts, six different shoe boxes from under the desk before he hands Nuge an old wooden clipboard with peeling stickers covering the back.
"Right, so let's just start with a tour."
Connor didn't realize quite how much this place had going on. He only got to see the rink yesterday, but Nuge takes him through the arcade, the laser tag area, the 8-hole mini-golf course, the concession stand, the party rooms, the break room, and the bathrooms.
He meets a lot of people.
At the arcade, he is introduced to Hymo/Hyms.
"Don't play against this guy," Nuge warns, "he'll destroy you."
"Oh, I'm not that good," Hyms says with fake modesty.
Behind the arcade prize counter is a reserved guy named Bouch. He doesn't say a word as Nuge introduces him. He is apparently the next newest employee to Connor.
Laser tag is run by The Janitor, Uncle Rico, and Brownie (seriously, what are these names?) Connor gets to watch them give a demonstration of the rules and course to a ball team group. They all seem very comfortable with each other, ribbing and shoving half the time.
"Hey, Brownie, we have another Connor now," Nuge says.
"Oh no," Brownie moans, "we can't do another Skins and Skins situation."
"Well, if you go by Brownie and I go by Connor then we don't have a problem," Connor points out.
"You can't go by Connor," Janny says. "What's your last name?"
"McDavid."
"Davo." Nuge declares.
"Welcome to the team, Davo!" Uncle Rico says, slapping him on the back.
Connor isn't sure if he likes Davo. Better than Condom, but still.
Eky and Kully handle the concession stand. Apparently, they like to get experimental with the food.
"So what do you think?" Kully asks Connor excitedly.
"I'm not sure if you should deep-fry the banana in the peel."
"That's what Ek said, but it falls apart if I don't. We'll just have to tell people it's in there if they order it."
That's a big if, Connor thinks.
Both of the rentable party rooms are full. DR, or Derek Ryan, is seamlessly flowing between the two groups to help direct. He waves cheerily at Connor and Nuge as they leave.
A Pickle heads up mini-golf. He sheepishly reports to Nuge that an earlier kid had knocked a light bulb out. Nuge makes a note of it on the clipboard.
In the break room, one lone employee sits reclined at the central table.
"Perry, this is Davo. He started yesterday. Pers is our maintenance slash cleaning slash whatever guy. He's the only one who's been here longer than me."
Pers (Corey according to his coveralls) is what Connor can only describe as 'grizzled'. He nods once at Connor and goes back to staring at the wall.
"We have some floaters come in sometimes on the weekends and when we're short, but that's pretty much everyone and everything. Let's head back to the rink. That's where Kris has got you for now."
Damn. Is Bouch sure he doesn't want to trade? Or Nurse? It can't be that bad handing out skates and taking phone calls.
"So what do you do?" Connor asks Nuge.
"Hmm? Oh, I just run around putting out fires. Not literal ones. Mostly."
They walk up to a rap battle going on at center ice. A preteen boy mumbles his way through something and the Skinners do a good job of hyping him up. Leon is perched on the wall at the back, a mirror of yesterday.
"How long has Leon worked here?" Connor finds himself asking.
"He's been here about a year now," Nuge replies. "Why?"
"Oh, just wondering."
Nuge takes about fifteen more minutes to tell Connor where all the rink equipment is and to describe the duties in more detail.
"Do I get to use the Zamboni?" Connor tries to joke.
"No way. Pers will get you if you even go near it." That just about guarantees that Connor won't.
"I need to go catch up on some things, but I'll try to come check on you later."
Nuge does stop by a few times throughout the day to ask how things are going. Connor has nothing, literally nothing, to report. This doesn't change over the following days. The people skate, they do RFT, and they have the occasional birthday group. Connor wonders why the rink is even a four-person job.
That realization doesn't make it any better that Leon keeps leaving him all the time.
One moment he will be out racing someone down the straightaway and then he'll be gone. Connor even returns from his break once to find Leon gone again. This makes him seethe, knowing the ice itself was unsupervised for who knows how long.
Leon is better with the kids than he is. He can admit it. Once Connor has his uniform and name tag, and they realize that he works there, he gets bombarded with kids asking him to watch them do tricks and telling him fifteen stories about their day. He tries his best to act interested and to be fun, but he has no idea what most of the kids are even referencing most of the time. Leon speaks their language. He even has handshakes with the ones who come pretty often. Connor would have been all over that attention as a kid.
What Connor is good at, though, is noticing things. Sometimes he can't help it.
No one uses the break room, with the exception of Pers. Hyms and Bouch will just stay in the arcade and chat during their free time. Same with the laser tag trio. The Skinners hardly ever leave the booth. Nurse plays on his phone at the reception when he's not busy. Kris and Nuge come around occasionally to ask the guys for updates or to give instructions, but the conversations are quick and distracted. Connor even catches Pickle napping against the windmill of the golf course.
At all the jobs he's had before, even the ones he didn't like, his coworkers weren't nearly this disconnected from each other. They were friends, even. There's not even a work group chat here. Connor tells all of this to Cam over their weekend FaceTime call. Lenny, his beloved Bernedoodle and freeloading roommate, is curled up on his lap.
"I like the job. It's just a weird environment. I was thinking about talking to Kris about some ideas to maybe help with team bonding."
Cam stares at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Do you ever get tired of having a savior complex?"
"I will hang up."
"Go right ahead." He knows Connor won't.
"The only thing I'm tired of is spending my weekends alone with Len." He looks down at his dog. "No offense."
"That wouldn't be a problem if you hadn't moved."
"Are you admitting you miss me?"
"Heck no," Cam grins. "I just...you had everything you needed here. You still do."
"I know." They let the silence wash over the call. This one is a tired conversation.
Eventually, Cam says "Good luck with work, though. It's sweet that you care." Connor's not sure if that's sincere or not.
He knocks on Kris' office door on Monday. "Do you have a few minutes? It's nothing serious."
"Of course, Connor, come in."
Connor settles himself into the chair and leans up to settle his forearms on the desk. "I wanted to ask your permission to start Casual Fridays here."
Kris looks surprised that this is the direction of the conversation. "Okay?"
"I think it would help boost employee morale. There's nothing wrong with having a uniform, of course, but this adds some fun to the end of the week and it's something simple."
"No, that sounds perfectly fine. With some conditions, of course."
Connor nods, expecting this. "Yes. We wouldn't let go of professionalism. We could just be more relaxed. Maybe even you could join."
Kris laughs as he looks down at his buttoned shirt and tie. "Crazier things have happened."
Connor spends that evening at the local library designing an informational flyer on Canva about the newly allowed Casual Fridays. It takes longer than he expected because he has to keep looking up tutorials on how to actually use Canva.
The next morning, he yawns his way through putting up his creation on the break room bulletin board.
"Casual Fridays, huh?"
Connor nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to see Pers studying the board. He props himself up with a flat mop as he reads.
Connor nods. "I'm looking forward to it. Oh hey, can I get your phone number? I want to start a group chat with all of us here."
"You don't really need me in there, do you?"
"Well, yeah, you're a part of this team. A very important part."
Pers hums thoughtfully, then rattles off his number for Connor to enter in his phone. Connor thanks him and hurries off toward the arcade next door. He has time to get a few more numbers before he has to be back.
Bouch is crouched behind the brightly-lit prize counter. Connor approaches and clears his throat.
"Hey, Bouch. How's it going?"
Bouch stands up, pins Connor with his stare. "Alright. Except we're out of hands."
Connor blinks. "What?"
"The little jelly sticky hands that you can throw on walls and stuff. We're all out. It's a popular 200 ticket prize, so I'll have to have Nuggy order some more." He doesn't blink once.
"Yeah, for sure. Um, I actually came over here to ask you something. Can I get your phone number?"
Bouch is still for a moment, then comes around the counter until he's next to Connor. "Connor," he says, lowering his voice, "I'm flattered, but I'm already kind of seeing someone right now."
Connor throws up his hands. "No, no, no, not like that! I mean, not that--I don't find you repulsive or anything but no, it's for--I'm starting a work group chat."
"Oh. Then yes, you can have it."
Connor's face burns as he hands Bouch his phone to create a contact for himself.
"Do you need Hyms' number too?"
"Yeah, everyone's."
"Zach!"
Hyms comes jogging over from the other side of the arcade. "Yo."
"Davo needs your phone number, but not in a flirty way. In a work way."
"Better not be in a flirty way. My wife would have something to say about that."
Can we not? Connor thinks. He wordlessly hands his phone over to Hyms and waits for what feels like an eternity.
"Aw, is this your dog on the lockscreen?"
"Dude, don't be nosy," Bouch chides.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be."
Connor takes his phone back. "It's fine. Yeah, that's Lenny. He's my Bernedoodle."
Zach smiles. "Nice. Here, in return, I'll show you my boys." Zach whips out his phone and spends the rest of Connor's break showing him increasingly more chaotic pictures and videos of his three sons.
"To this day, we still don't know how they got on the roof," Zach finishes.
"Ah, kids," Bouch sighs.
"Wow. I, um, have to get back to the rink but thanks." Connor awkwardly waves at them.
"Ok, see you, Davo!"
"Bye!" Bouch chimes.
Over the next few days, Connor slowly collects numbers.
He put Leon's off until last.
They're sitting beside each other on the half-wall, watching the skaters zip past. They haven't spoken a word to each other in...days, come to think of it. Connor takes a breath and turns to Leon.
"Hey, can I have your number? I'm starting a group chat for here."
"Why?" Leon asks, flat.
"I think it would just be good to have. For communication, getting to know each other. Eventually, maybe even for making plans to hang out after work."
Leon studies his fingernails for a long moment, then holds out his hand for Connor’s phone. Huh.
-Davo created the group-
-Davo added 14 members to the group-
-Davo renamed the group 'Raucous Fun Time'-
Davo: Inaugural casual Friday tomorrow. Don't forget.
J. Skins: Stu let's wear Hawaiian shirts
S. Skins: I don't think I have one
J. Skins: Boooooo
J. Skins: I'll bring you one
Pers: I think I am going to wear a cap.
DR: Me too @Pers
Hyms: kkmbuijhnoiujnllllllllllllllll
Hyms: sorry my kid had my phone
Nuge: Wait why are we dressing up?
Davo: You don't have to. Kris said we could be more casual on Fridays
Nuge: I could wear sweats?
Davo: As long as they look decent
Nuge: This is the best news
Pickle: Sweats! Lfg
J. Skins: @Davo wear a Hawaiian shirt so we all match at the rink
Davo: I don't have one either
J. Skins: I’ll just bring shirts for all of you losers
Connor feels ridiculous in Jeff’s shirt, but he does feel like the vibes among the staff are happier the next day. Pickle wore a Hawaiian shirt too, so he comes over on his break to take a selfie with the rink crew. Pers sports a backwards cap, leading to teasing comparisons to Leon that the latter isn’t thrilled with.
Even Kris ditches his tie. He makes a big show of gesturing to its absence when he stops by the rink. Connor gives him a thumbs up and Jeff whoops.
The good mood doesn’t last.
When Connor is on his afternoon break, Hyms bursts into the break room, panting.
“Davo, can we get your help in the arcade please?”
Connor rushes after him.
The arcade is pandemonium. The lights on all the machines are blinking on and off rhythmically. The machines themselves are shooting out long, endless strands of prize tickets. And kids are swarming to take advantage.
Bouch stands at the breaker box on the wall, squinting at it with a flashlight and trying to watch an instructional video on his phone.
Hyms grabs a megaphone from behind the prize counter. “EMPLOYEES ONLY IN THE ARCADE. THE ARCADE IS CURRENTLY CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE. DROP THOSE TICKETS.”
Connor and Zach start shooing kids away or beckoning parents to come take them. They really don’t want to give up their free tickets.
“I want to pick my prize!” one boy screams, brandishing his fistfuls of tickets.
“We’re closed!” Zach yells again.
Bouch leaves the breaker box and starts snatching tickets out of hands, which earns him several looks of disgust from parents and some crying from the kids.
“Davo, unplug everything!” Hyms yells at him. He takes the right wall and Connor darts along the left one, yanking out cords as fast as he can.
Eventually, everyone clears out and the games fall silent. They are left standing calf-deep in tickets.
“What even happened?” he asks.
Zach pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. Do you care to help us clean this up?”
They find some large trash bags and start scooping tickets inside. Right around the point where they can see the floor again, Kris strides into the arcade, lips pressed tight.
“Evan, I have parents in my office saying you took tickets away from their kids.”
Bouch scoffs. “Those tickets weren’t theirs. The machines malfunctioned.” He holds out his stuffed garbage bag.
“Something happened and tickets started coming out of all the machines, and before we could turn them off, kids were in here taking the tickets,” Zach explains. “We couldn’t just let them, or we’d be giving away a bunch of free prizes.”
Kris sighs deeply and asks “Is there any way to tell which tickets are from the malfunction and which one the kids earned?”
“Uhhh. Actually, no.”
“Then we have to honor all of them. When the arcade is ready to be opened back up, call my office. I’ll send the families over. Give the kids whatever they want.”
Bouch gasps. “Even the top row prizes?!” Connor glances up at them. Looks like giant stuffed animals and electronics.
“No, no, just some good ones. Use your best judgement.” Kris turns to leave.
“Thanks for helping, Davo,” Zach says glumly.
“You can pick out a prize for helping,” Bouch says. “Even the top row. I won’t be mad at you.”
“That’s okay. Uh, well, maybe I’ll take some root beer barrels.”
“Ew,” Bouch says, laughing. He goes and gets Davo a handful.
“Yeah, yeah, I like the old man candy.”
Connor finds himself wrapped up in another workplace predicament a few days later.
He is walking past the mini golf course entrance when he hears a hissed “Davo!” He stops and turns.
Pickle is on all fours with his right arm shoved up inside the windmill on the 8th hole. “I’m stuck,” he moans.
Connor approaches carefully and inspects the windmill. It’s still turning, so Pickle has to stay low to the ground to avoid getting whacked in the head.
“Is there a way to turn it off?”
“Somewhere, I think? Fuck, my arm is going numb.”
“Ok, uh, let me go get Pers, he would probably know.”
Connor hurries around the center looking for their elusive maintenance man. After a few minutes, he returns to Pickle.
“Plan B, if you got your arm in there, it can come out. I’m gonna pull you.” Connor pushes aside his awkwardness and grabs Pickle by his ankles.
“One, two, three,” he huffs, yanking backward with all his might. Pickle doesn’t budge and Connor eventually has to drop him.
“I’m sorry about this,” Pickle says. “I fucked up.”
“Hang on,” Connor says, a thought striking him. He takes off for the concession stand. Blessedly, no one is in line.
“I need a lot of butter, or oil, something greasy,” he tells Eky.
Eky doesn’t bat an eye, just reaches under the counter and hauls up an industrial-sized container of popcorn popping oil. Connor thanks him and hurries back to Picks.
“I’m gonna rub this on your arm and try pulling again.”
Connor is in the middle of massaging in the oil when he senses something behind him and turns around. A group of four boys stand there, staring, with mini golf clubs.
“We’ll come back later,” the one in front says.
Connor nods. They leave.
Once Pickle is, for lack of a better word, lubed up, Connor grabs his feet again. When he pulls this time, Picks comes out and unbalances Connor. They both tumble to the carpet.
“Woo!” Picks cheers and throws himself onto Connor to crush him into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
The group chat stays alive, mostly with memes and complaining about NHL team performances.
Leon is as noticeably absent in the chat as he is at work. The thing is, it’s not every day. There’s no pattern to it. Leon will be around when he’s supposed to for a couple of days and then his fifteen turns into a forty-five on the third. Or he hauls himself into the rink half an hour late in the morning.
Connor doesn’t want to tattle to Kris again and he definitely doesn’t want to say anything directly to Leon. Guess his only option is to seethe quietly forever and develop an ulcer. He half-jokingly says this to Cam.
“Guy sounds like an asshole,” his brother concurs.
Leon aside, Connor becomes more and more familiar with his coworkers. Most of them have families or are at least in a serious relationship. The guys seem surprised but delighted to show him pictures of their kids and to share updates of what show they’ve been watching on repeat or what vacation is coming up. Connor gets a few comments about how nice the bachelor life is too, in its way. He laughs it off in the moment.
He’s settled into the city, and yet he still doesn’t go anywhere except work and home. He can’t bring himself to text anyone from work individually or even just go to a restaurant. Only takeout.
He spends the long nights eating and watching shows on his laptop and thinking of ideas to improve the rink instead of how lonely he is.
One day, Connor has to break up an actual fight on the ice. By himself. Because Leon didn't bother to show up.
It's some younger teenagers, no surprise. Someone had kissed someone's girlfriend, allegedly, so the two boys started slinging each other around by their hoodies while said girlfriend cried "STOP!"
"No fighting!" Jeff booms over the microphone. Connor skates into the middle and works to shove the boys apart. He gets hit several times before he can.
"You! Go out that way. You, other way. You're both banned from the rink for the rest of the day."
"You can't do that," one of them sneers.
"Kayson, stop," the girl sniffs.
The boys take one last glare at each other before parting ways. The girlfriend asks if she's banned too.
"No," says Connor.
She skates away glumly.
Leon never comes, and Connor just gets more and more pissed with each RFT that passes. When it's time for his break, he has to flag Nuge down to cover for him.
"It would be nice if Leon would give us a warning when he's not planning on coming," Connor remarks as he changes back into his sneakers.
Nuge frowns and pulls out his phone. "Let me call him. He usually doesn't no call, no show."
Connor thanks Nuge when he gets back.
"No problem. Oh, Leon said his dog is lost, so that's why he's not here. He's out looking for it."
That's a bunch of bull--–well, he supposes it could be true.
The hours crawl by until it's finally 8:00. Connor helps the Skinners close down the rink. He thinks of Leon. He thinks about Lenny and how he himself would feel.
He pulls out his phone and types a message as quickly as he can in the group.
Davo: Does anyone know where Leon lives? His dog is missing. If you can, I think we should go help him look.
Some of the guys can't stay, but the search party ends up being Jeff, Bouch, Pickle, Kully, DR, Uncle Rico, Brownie, and Janny. Nuge finds a copy of Leon's application in his office and gives them all the address.
"Hope it's still correct," he says.
They divide up into the largest vehicles among them and go.
They don't have to wonder about the address, because Leon is right outside in the lot when the caravan pulls up. He stares at them all as they exit the vehicles.
Since this was Connor's idea, he jogs up to Leon first. "Nuge told us about your dog. We thought you might want some help looking, unless you found him? Her?"
"Him. Bowie." Leon's voice sounds strained, tired. "No, I haven't found him yet."
Brownie asks "Aren't you supposed to carry around things that smell like the dog's home so they'll come to it?"
"Do you have any lunch meat? Maybe that will work," Janny suggests.
"I, uh, no," Leon answers flatly.
"Where have you looked?" Connor asks.
Leon scrubs his hands down his face. "I've looked everywhere. I've driven all over the damn city it feels like."
"What does your dog look like?" DR asks, gently.
Leon pulls up a picture on his phone. Connor asks him to send it to the chat.
Bouch and Kully had pulled up a map of town and were currently assigning sections to the vehicle groups. Connor is quite impressed by the teamwork he is witnessing. Once everyone has their assignments, they agree to meet back up here in an hour and go from there, unless someone finds Bowie first.
"Stay in communication and be careful," Connor tells them.
He had driven Jeff and Bouch here, but he gives them his keys. "I'm gonna go with Leon. That way we have an extra car."
"Got it. We won't crash it," Jeff promises.
"That would be ideal."
Soon, Connor and Leon are alone on the road.
"I'm sorry if this was a lot. We just wanted to help."
"It's okay," Leon mumbles. "I gotta go grab my keys." Connor follows him into the apartment.
Connor's not usually one to judge how people live their own lives, but Leon's living room is a sight to behold. There is both a pinball machine and a tanning bed shoved up against the far wall. The TV is hung so high on the wall adjacent that it touches the ceiling. The leather couch is cracked all to hell and has scratch marks all over it. There is a life-size cutout of Lionel Messi on the floor. Also on the floor are what looks like the entire contents of Leon's closet. Connor carefully steps over everything as he and Leon enter the kitchen area.
Nothing prepares him for seeing Bowie, sitting calmly in the middle of the tile.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT," Leon roars. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"
Bowie gives a happy bark and tries to jump up on Leon.
"No, get away from me!" Leon yells at him, dodging to the side.
Connor just laughs. He can't stop laughing, actually.
"I LOOKED EVERYWHERE IN THIS APARTMENT. CONNOR I SWEAR I DID," Leon continues to yell. Bowie cocks his head in confusion.
Connor can't even breathe, let alone answer. He wipes his eyes and texts the group chat that Bowie had been found.
"You can't tell them," Leon continues. He jabs a finger at Connor. "Don't you fucking dare. We're getting our story straight right now. We'll say my neighbor messaged and they had him because they saw him outside and knew he was my dog and took him in. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF."
That just gets Connor going even more.
Leon rolls his eyes and crouches down to Bowie's level. "And you! Don't you ever scare me like that again." Leon finally accepts Bowie's frenzy of kisses.
Connor takes some deep breaths and gets himself back under control. "I won't tell."
"Thank you," Leon says, still focused on giving Bowie all the pets.
It doesn't take much longer for the rink crew to get back. Leon and Connor meet them outside with Bowie (leashed).
"Bowie!" everyone shouts. Most of the guys want to pet him.
"So where was he?" Brownie asks. Connor bites his tongue to keep a straight face.
"He was at my neighbor's. She messaged me right when you all left and said she saw him outside and took him in because she knew he belonged to me," Leon says without missing a beat.
"Wow, you've got good neighbors," Brownie remarks.
"I also have good coworkers." Leon raises his voice. "Thank you all for coming." He pauses, staring down at his shoes. "I know I'm kind of a grouch sometimes, but I really appreciate this."
"Yeah, man," Jeff says. "We're happy to help."
Everyone pets Bowie one last time before loading up. Connor takes his keys back and slides into the driver's seat. He can't help it. The giggles come back.
"What?" Bouch asks.
"Nothing. Just something Leon said."
Connor almost, almost, asks if Bouch and Brownie want to go somewhere else since it's Friday night. It's not even ten yet. But he's taken up too much of their time already. They all say their goodbyes in the parking lot and Connor heads home. Back to his dark, plain, quiet apartment. His sides still hurt from laughing earlier. It's been a while since he'd laughed like that.
Gah, he's pathetic. Here he is, aching for any excuse to be with the coworkers he barely knows, even if a "lost" dog is at stake.
"Len, I'm kind of pathetic," Connor announces. "Don't know if you've noticed."
Lenny looks at him for a moment before trotting off to the bedroom.
It’s not crazy that I want to be close to the people I'm around all the time. That I want to make friends. Right? he thinks.
Connor flops back onto his futon. He feels exhausted all of a sudden. I just want friends. Good, close friends. Friends that feel like family.
Yes. He wants a family.
It doesn't take long for him to drift off to sleep.