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“Okay,” Carter said. He was standing behind Hayes, hands clasped around the goalie’s shoulders. “You’re up, Hayes. Who is it?”
They were huddled around one of the fire pits at the camp, all of the counselors perched on logs, their legs folded awkwardly as they drank the fancy craft beer Shane had bought from a local brewery.
It was only Carter’s second day at the camp, but he already felt like he fit in. His family had always been big on community outreach, and he was stoked to be able to give back like this. It mattered to him, and it mattered to Scott, and it was nice to be part of something positive in the hockey world, especially with all the recent scandals plaguing the league.
If he were being honest with himself, he’d been a little bummed that Shane hadn’t asked him sooner, especially after he, Shane, and JJ booked that mini golf course for a night on a whim and went to town on margaritas that they drank out of golf-club-shaped yard cups.
But he didn’t stay mad long. Not when Shane showed up to his house with a Costco-sized box of Canadian Ketchup chips and asked him to work at his camp, sheepishly adding, “I should’ve asked you a while ago.”
Tonight was another one of the team-building sessions JJ had recommended. They were optional hangs for people who wanted to get to know the other counselors. The professional hockey world was big, but the number of players he actually wanted to hang out with were small, and a good number of them were sitting around him now.
He also, from time-to-time, liked to stir the pot, in a fun, harmless way of course.
Which is how he found himself asking some of the hockey world's biggest players who they’d sleep with if they had a hall pass.
Most of the players seemed familiar with the concept, but Shane’s face had contorted a bit as Carter explained how a hall pass worked. Rozanov (and he was still Rozanov to him) nestled at Shane’s side, appeared deep in thought as Carter explained the particulars.
“It’s when your partner gives you a one-time pass to sleep with whoever you want—no consequences,” he’d explained.
Most of the other players had already shared their picks, late nineties singers and stars making a large portion of the list.
Carter’s own pick had been Angelina Jolie who he had first seen during one of his older sister’s sleepovers during their fifth rewatch of the movie Foxfire. Carter didn’t remember much about the movie but there was one scene where Jolie tattooed a flame on her bare breast that was forever burned into his memory.
“Rachel Weiss in The Mummy,” Hayes said, his answer quick.
A few people nodded and Carter slapped Hayes’ back in approval. “Solid choice.”
“So you have discussed this with your wife?” Rozanov asked.
Hayes nodded. “Oh yeah. She was into it. She loves The Mummy.”
“But you will never meet this actress,” Rozanov said matter-of-factly. “So you will never use this ‘hall pass.’ So what is the point?”
Some of the group laughed, but it was Pike who answered.
“The point is that it’s fun, Rozanov. My pick would be Lucy Liu. From any era. But especially Charlie's Angels.”
Another round of approval rose through the circle.
“Alright, Scotty. Your turn.”
“This is so stupid,” Scott said, taciturn.
“Oh come on,” Carter said. “I know you have someone in mind.”
Scott rolled his eyes, but he mumbled something under his breath.
“What?” Rozanov asked, cupping a hand to his ear.
“Yeah. Speak up, Hunter,” Riley said, egging him on.
“Paul. Newman,” Scott said loudly and slowly, punctuating both parts of the person’s name.
For a moment, the group went silent. Then they erupted in a chorus of “who’s?”
“Paul Newman,” Scott repeated. He looked from player to player, waving a hand as if they should all know who he was talking about.
Carter didn’t have a clue, and it looked like most of the group didn’t either.
“He’s an older actor. Passed a while ago,” said Riley.
“Come on,” said Scott. “Paul Newman. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? Cool Hand Luke? Nothing? Really?”
“Wow, you really are a thousand years old,” Rozanov said, his tone kind of sympathetic.
“Fuck off.”
“You know who that is?” Shane asked Ilya, his voice low and soft, as if they were having a private conversation, which they always seemed to these days.
“American actor. Very popular in Russia. Very manly. Very hot.”
Shane nodded slowly but still looked confused.
“He also plays Doc Hudson in Cars,” Pike offered.
“Ohhh,” a few of the players said in unison.
“The mentor car!” Carter said, pointing at Scott in triumph.
“Yes,” Scott said, resigned. “The mentor car from Cars. He was also a standup guy.” He glanced at Ilya. “And hot.”
“Smart car,” Rozanov said. “Very wise.”
“Cars?” Shane mouthed to Rozanov.
“The kids love it,” Pike said, bumping Shane’s shoulder with his fist. “We can watch it next movie night.”
“I would pick Shane,” Rozanov announced proudly to the group.
“That is not how it works, Rozanov,” JJ said, his accent thicker after his third beer. “You have to pick someone other than your husband.”
“Other than Shane?” Rozanov said slowly.
“Yeah,” Campbell explained. “Like if you could sleep with someone other than Shane with no consequences.”
“Oh, okay,” Rozanov said, straightening his back and considering Shane for a moment. “Then I pick evil twin of Shane who tricks me into thinking he is my angel and then has his evil way with me.”
“No, Ilya,” Hayes said. “That’s not—”
Pike put his hand up. “Actually, I like that. Can I change my answer to Evil Jackie?”
“What?” Carter said. “No! No. Let’s move on. Shane?”
“Oh,” Shane said, almost looking surprised by the question. “Um. I guess I would pass.”
“Pass?”
“Yeah, like pass on the hall pass.”
“You can’t pass on a hall pass, dude,” Pike said.
“Maybe someone else could use it?”
“No,” Carter said. “That’s not—”
“I can use it and have two Shanes,” Rozanov said.
“Honestly, I really like the idea of an evil Shane,” Pike said, and a few others chimed in in agreement.
Rozanov beamed. “Yes. It is a genius idea.”
“Why would I want to sleep with someone else?” Shane asked, apparently still stuck on the concept of a hall pass, and he was so sincere that Carter’s heart kind of ached for a moment.
“Wow,” Scott said. “You two really are something.”
“Yes,” Rozanov said, pulling Shane closer and planting a loud kiss on his left cheek. “We are really in love.”
There were some awws and some groans, and someone threw a marshmallow at Rozanov that he somehow caught with his teeth.
“What about you, Barrett?” Carter asked, moving the conversation along.
“Oh, well…”
Barett looked a little guilty. He’d had the most to drink out of the group, and his cheeks were flushed red.
“Who is it,” Hayes asked, and a few of the players leaned in.
“Well,” Barrett said, and then he looked up at Shane. And then he kept looking at Shane.
There was silence, filled only by the crackling of the fire.
“Wow,” Scott said again.
“What?” Rozanov asked, looking from one person to another, apparently not having caught on yet. Then he glanced at Barrett again and then glanced at Shane, who was currently ducking his head.
“Clearly he’a joking,” Pike said.
Barrett shook his head. “Nope.”
Everyone stared at him.
“What?” Barrett asked, sounding defensive. He glanced from player to player, directing his next comment to Rozanov. “Sorry, but he’s hot.”
“He’s my husband!”
“We know!” the group said in unison.
“Yeah, and he's really hot.” Barrett’s cheeks grew even redder, and he looked flustered, but he didn’t back down. “Sorry, Shane. I’m a little drunk, and you’re objectively hot. Definitely the hottest guy here.”
Rozanov, Pike, and JJ took offense with that comment, JJ rattling off a series of expletives in French.
“And Harris is okay with this?” Rozanov asked, incredulous. “You sleeping with my husband?”
Barrett nodded. “Oh yeah,” he said, taking another long swig of beer. “As long as he could watch.”
There were jeers and catcalls and Rozanov looked mostly bemused, though he had pulled in closer to Shane, a possessive hand snaking around Shane’s waist.
“I’m feeling a lot of things right now,” Shane said, and Carter almost felt bad for the guy. He had that adorable bashful look he would get when someone complimented him.
“You are not wrong, Troy,” Rozanov said. “Shane is very hot. I will try not to hold this against you, but you are not allowed to look at my husband again.”
“I’m on his line,” Barrett objected.
“I do not care.”
“Troy, you can look at me.” Shane said, though he seemed to reconsider it for a moment. “Just not too closely.”
“This might work out in our favor,” Scott said, smirking at Rozanov.
“This is not the type of team bonding I had in mind, mon capitan,” JJ said, then proceeded to rattle off a string of words in French to Shane.
Shane responded in French which prompted Rozanov to stand abruptly. “Shane is only allowed to speak French to me and his parents,” he said, as if he were issuing a proclamation.
“Keep your fetishes in the bedroom, please,” Campbell said.
“I wouldn’t keep you from speaking French, Shane,” Barrett said, so earnestly that Carter didn’t know what to make of that situation anymore.
“Yeah, I need another beer,” Shane said, standing and walking past Rozanov towards the cooler.
They all watched as Shane Hollander, renowned for his ability to nurse one beer for an entire night, popped open another can of beer and chugged it in one go.
There was a moment of stunned silence amongst the group, each person glancing from one to the other, and then they all went wild, calls of “Hollander” echoing through the quiet forest night.
JJ was right. This was not what Carter had expected when he saw "team bonding" on the agenda Shane had emailed him a week ago.
Looking around, taking in the easy smiles of his peers, the playful ribbing, the utter warmth that came from being surrounded by people who made you feel safe, Carter thought, this is so much better.