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The best part about traveling during most of the year for games was being able to spend a few days enjoying other cities. Sometimes they didn’t have enough time to explore the places they were, staying in the hotel resting before a game, or going out to dinner nearby. But there were some rare occasions when the team arrived with enough time to have a day off before a game or travel back home, and it was even better when it happened in an amazing city like Los Angeles.
LA had the perfect weather during the first months of the NHL schedule, different from places in Canada or Boston and New York. It was a glorious autumn Saturday morning in the City of Angels, not freezing like Ottawa already was, only a light coat being necessary.
Shane stood in front of the full body mirror of his hotel room and took another look at what he was wearing: dark jeans, sneakers and a light blue sweater. Nothing too fancy or elaborate for a brunch. Totally different from what his husband was wearing when left the bathroom. Ilya stood in the middle of the room putting his watch on his wrist, one of his many silk button down shirts with the first three buttons open, beige trousers a more classic shoe than a sneaker. He looked like a Slavi model, while Shane felt like his straight brother.
“Ready?” Ilya asked, grabbing his phone and wallet.
“I don’t know…” Shane answered, looking again to his clothes. “I feel like I’m going to a car dealership, not a drag brunch”
“It’s because you dress like a middle-aged straight man, Shane” Ilya laughed. “But in a very sexy way”
“Why did I agree to do this, again?”
“Because it will be fun and Harris convinced you last night after he saw how lost you were about RuPaul’s Drag Race”
“Okay, I remembered. I need to expand my horizons within the gay community”
“Exactly. Now, let’s go. I need a mimosa”
Harris and Troy were already waiting for them on the hotel lobby, dressing in the same contrast as Ilya and Shane: while Troy looked like a jock - a hot one, of course - Harris had embraced the theme and was wearing an oversize t-shirt with a blonde woman’s face, that Shane might recognize as a pop singer, and his rainbow pin on his jean jacket.
“Who is this on your shirt?” Ilya asked as soon they approached the couple.
“The Queen of Pop” Harris answered in disbelief for their lack of acknowledgement of pop culture. “Madonna!”
“Oh, this one I know!” Troy said, proudly. “You made me watch her music videos one time”
“Is the singer of Born This Way?” Shane asked, confused with the names.
“This is probably the less queer group of gay men to ever walk to the place we are going”
“Queer men” Ilya corrected him, like he was some kind of expert on LGBTQ+ community. “I’m a bissexual man in a same-sex relationship”
“Tomato, tomahto, Ilya” Harris rolled his eyes and Troy laughed with the same discussion they had a few times. “Can we go? We have to be there by 11 a.m.”
They took an Uber to Hamburger Mary's, in West Hollywood, considered one of the best drag brunch in town according to Harris. Shane was a little bit nervous, because he really didn’t know what to expect when he heard the words “drag” and “brunch” in the same sentence.
He agreed with the activities because he was really tired of not feeling gay enough after being out for a few months. When he started to get along with Harris and notice how free and confident he was with his sexuality, Shane felt a little bit jealous. Harris had his whole life to be comfortable in his skin being gay, while Shane was always scared of who he loved might be the reason he lost everything he had conquered in hockey. Now, he was married to his teammate, and free enough to go see a bunch of drag queens singing while people eat avocado toast and eggs.
The place was packed when they arrived, but thanks to Harris' efficiency, the four of them already had tickets. The waitress took them to one of the tables in front of the stage and let them look at the menu while grabbing four tall glasses of orange juice.
“You get a free mimosa with your ticket entry” she explained.
“Thanks, darling” Harris told her and raised his glass. “A toast to being out and happy with who we love”
“Cheers” Ilya followed and they clicked their glasses, winking to his husband.
Troy and Shane made a funny face when they drank the mimosas, while Ilya chugged the whole glass and Harris took a few sips. Pop music blasted through the speakers and it made Shane a little anxious, relaxing a little when he felt Ilya’s hand caressing his tight under the table. He focused on the menu, what he could eat that was healthy and would not awaken a hot discussion about his food habits. Thank God Troy was there and he had the same habits as Shane when it comes to food, taking the pressure off the Canadian’s shoulder a bit.
The food didn’t take too much to arrive and their table was packed with plates full of every type of brunch food: pancakes, avocado toast, eggs benedict and waffles covered in fruits and syrup. The perfect breakfast for a day off in a city full of life and sunny, what three hockey players needed before a big game the next day.
"I am telling you," Ilya said, grinning as he watched a server zip past with a tray of neon-colored drinks. "This is better than a team breakfast. No one is talking about tape or defensive rotations. It is just vibes."
Shane poked at his avocado toast, his shoulders hunched. "I just feel... I don't know. Like I’m crashing a party I wasn't invited to. I spent my whole life in locker rooms. I know how to be a hockey player. I don't know how to be... this."
“Me too,” Troy agreed with him. “I’m feeling like every pair of eyes are on us right now, wondering what we are doing here.”
Harris leaned in, his expression softening. "That’s exactly why we’re here. You three are icons in the hockey world, but that’s a very small bubble. The community is huge, man. It’s artists, it’s performers, it’s people who have been loud and proud since they were teenagers. You guys have been out of touch with your own queerness because you had to hide it. This isn't a test. It’s just an opportunity to see how big the family actually is."
"He is right," Ilya added, reaching over to squeeze Shane’s hand. "Stop being the Boring Canadian Boy for two hours. Just be a guy at brunch with his husband and friends."
Before Shane could say anything, the house lights flashed a bright, bubblegum pink as the opening synth-beats of "Espresso" by Sabrina Carpenter rattled the windows. A drag queen named Vixen Velvet practically shot onto the stage, wearing a high-cut bodysuit that looked like it was made of coffee filters and gold sequins.
She was a whirlwind of precision. Every hair flip was timed to the beat, and her lip-syncing was so sharp it was terrifying. She worked the room like a pro, weaving through the tables and snatching a cup of coffee from a guy’s hand to take a theatrical sip before handing it back with a wink, pretending she burned her tongue.
When she reached their table, she didn't realize she was looking at three of the biggest names in hockey. She just saw a very handsome, very tense half-asian man. She leaned over the table, snapping a hand fan so loud that made Shane jump on his seat, and then mouthed the lyrics directly to him: "I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer!"
Shane couldn't help it; the absurdity and the sheer talent of it broke through his shell. He let out a surprised, genuine laugh, watching as Vixen did a death-drop right in front of their table.
"You almost had a heart attack caused by a fan!" Harris shouted over the music, laughing so much that Shane couldn’t help but laugh too.
The second performance took a turn for the theatrical. A queen named Mama Muse took the stage in a massive, flowing floral caftan, the speakers playing a high-energy remix of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun."
Midway through the song, Mama Muse stopped at a table near the front where a little girl, maybe six or seven years old, was standing on her chair and dancing with her whole heart. The girl was wearing a pair of sparkling purple fairy wings and a "Love is Love" t-shirt.
Mama Muse reached out a hand, her long, glittery nails gently beckoning. "Come on, little queen! Show them how it’s done!"
The crowd roared as the girl’s two mothers helped her onto the stage. For the next three minutes, it was pure magic. Mama Muse didn't overshadow her; she followed the girl’s lead, mimicking her clumsy, joyful spins and high-fiving her after every "jump." The little girl was beaming, her eyes wide with the thrill of being under the spotlight with a real-life superhero. She even tried to do a hair flip with Mama Muse, making the whole room screaming in approval.
Shane watched them, his entire posture softening. The tension he’d been carrying about "not being queer enough" or "not belonging" started to melt. Seeing the community embrace a child with that much pure, uncomplicated love reminded him that this wasn't just about clubs or bars; it was about a space where anyone could be whoever they wanted to be without fear.
A soft, lingering smile took over Shane’s face, the kind he usually reserved for a quiet night at home with Ilya.
"Look at her," Shane murmured, nudging Ilya. "She’s not afraid at all."
"No," Ilya said, looking at Shane instead of the stage, his eyes warm and possessive. "She knows she is in the right place. Just like us."
The waitress arrived with another round of mimosas when the lights on the room dimmed even more and the stage was covered with a white smoke, a drag queen in a gown made entirely of mirrored shards strutted onto the small stage, her presence commanding every eye in the room.
The opening notes of a song drifted through the speakers, a slow, ethereal electronic pulse. Shane froze.
“Shine bright like a diamond...”
It was "Diamonds" by Rihanna.
Shane felt a lump form in his throat. It was the song Harris put on for their first dance at their wedding, a last minute choice that had felt perfect because it was about finding light in the dark, about being beautiful and resilient.
As the queen performed, her movements were graceful and powerful, mirroring the soaring vocals. Shane found himself mesmerized. He wasn't thinking about his "out of touch" feeling anymore. He was thinking about the night he stood in the center of their house garden in Ottawa, his hands on Ilya’s waist, finally allowed to be himself in front of everyone they loved.
By the time the song reached its final, triumphant crescendo, Shane’s eyes were shimmering with tears. He didn't even notice he was crying until Ilya leaned over and gently wiped a stray drop from his cheek, kissing his temple.
The queen, catching the light on her mirrored dress, stepped off the stage and moved straight to their table. She looked at Shane, her sharp, expertly drawn eyes softening behind her lashes. She sang the last part of the song just for him, making sure to the man with eyes full of tears that the moment was for him.
"Hey, sugar," she said, her voice warm over the fading applause. "That was a lot of emotion for a Saturday morning. You want to tell a girl why that song hit you so hard?"
Shane opened his mouth, but the words felt stuck in his throat. He looked at Ilya, then back at the queen, feeling that familiar rush of vulnerability.
Ilya took over, his voice steady and full of pride. "That was our first dance song," he said, gesturing between himself and Shane. "At our wedding. We spent a long time being the only two people who knew we were 'diamonds.' Seeing you do that... I think it reminded my husband that we don’t have to hide anymore. We’re exactly where we belong."
The queen smiled, a genuine, wide expression that didn't care about the stage makeup. She reached out and patted Shane’s hand. "Well, honey, consider that performance a late wedding gift. Welcome to the family. We’ve been waiting for you."
Shane let out a shaky breath, a small, genuine smile finally breaking across his face. He squeezed Ilya’s hand back, the knot in his stomach finally starting to unravel. Harris was right. The bubble was small, but the world was very, very big.