Monday's Tale

March 6th already wow.  It's been a nice week here weather wise.  My cold comes and goes with the weather.  I think now it's allergies along with the cold.  The wind is blowing today, so I'm staying inside.  

The Mardi Gras party was a huge success.  We had a good time and the hurricanes were a hit. Whodda thunk that a bunch of old fogies would finish off four bottles of rum and still be standing. Well, we did.  I made Jambalaya and as usual got carried away so there's enough in the freezer for another party even after everyone took some home.  There was a muffuletta dip, red beans and rice, a green salad, shrimp cocktail, corn muffins and King Cake for dessert.  Couldn't find a real King Cake here in AZ so I improvised.  Thought about beignets but too much work at the last minute.  One friend brought - Punchkees ( now I know that isn't the right spelling but it's basically a Polish jelly donut that is only made prior to Lent).  We all rolled around.  Once the crowd thinned a little, we played LR Center and had fun - it was even more fun because I won.  

We'll, here's this weeks story and it is not one from the archives.

Nedra stood at the window watching Steven.  Even if you didn’t know him, you would know he was depressed.  He walked with his head down, his shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets.  He had a lot to think about.  He had just been cut from the team, the team where he hoped to finish his career.  He hadn’t been able to bounce back after his latest injury and as it was explained to him, business was business, even if they were family.  He knew the score, his salary was one of the highest on the roster and in order to make room for another player, someone had to go.

He didn’t know anything other than hockey.  It had been his life’s blood since he was ten years old.  Hockey was a rough sport and at thirty-five, he knew he was literally skating on thin ice. But he still didn’t expect to be kicked to the curb. 

Nedra’s family owned the Redbirds and her brothers and father had tried softening the blow by giving him options.  He could stay on at a lower salary, or join the coaching staff, the front office, or go into the broadcast booth.  All viable options, but it wasn’t on the ice and it was a matter of pride.

He and Nedra had gone over and over the possibilities but he refused to see beyond the fact that his playing days as a Redbird starter were over.  They’d been going over the same ground for hours until Nedra couldn’t take anymore.

“Face it, Steven.  It’s over.  You always said you wanted to go out at the top of your game and not be one of those guys who went from team to team just for a chance to hang on one more year.  Well, you’re there.  Make your peace, but I’m done arguing with you.”

“You’re not arguing, you’re lecturing.  You sound like your brothers and your father and I don’t want to hear it anymore either.  You don’t get it – my career is over.  I’m thirty-five years old and I’m washed up.”

“Oh, don’t be such an ass.  Just because you can play professional hockey, you are not washed up.  You have options.  There are any number of teams or colleges for that matter that would love to have you as their coach.  You could go into the broadcast booth – that was your major in college for pity sake.  Quit feeling sorry for youself.”

“It’s easy for you to say,  you’ve always had exactly what you wanted.”

“Yes, but I fought for it the whole way.  You think it was easy working my way up and proving that I wasn’t just the owner’s daughter but that I actually had something worth sharing.  I’ve had to fight and scramble twice as hard, first because I’m a woman and second because I’m the owner’s kid.”

He pretended he was holding a violin and playing a tune.  “Fuck you” she said. 

“Don’t you curse at me.”

“Fine, how about if I kick you instead.” And landed a strong kick to his shin.  He howled with pain and reached out for her.  Too quick for her, he hauled her over to the couch and threw her over his knee.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I know what I’m doing and you’re going to be sorry in a minute or so.  I’m going to blister that butt and it’s going to hurt as much as my shin.”

“Like hell you are,” she told him and wiggled out of his hold.  He chased her around the room until she made it to the bedroom and locked the door.

“Open this door, or I’m going to knock it down.”

“Of yeah, Mr. Macho, you do your worst, but I’m not unlocking the door.  She heard him put his shoulder to the door a couple of time but it didn’t budge.  Eventually, she heard him walk away from the door and leave the house.

She went to the window and watched him.  He was nothing but a big overgrown boy but how she loved him and she really did feel his pain.  She was just tired of it – they had a good life and it wasn’t like he had some horrible disease or anything. They’d talked about what they would do when he retired.  Besides, coaching or broadcasting, she was sure her family would welcome him into the front office.  His experience was invaluable – he just had to stop being so goddamn hard-headed.

She laid down on the bed and the next thing she knew she felt the mattress heave with extra weight.

“Honey, are you awake?”

“I am now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, are you better now that you’ve calmed down a little?”

“Yes.” He snuggled her too him and began nuzzling his face into her hair.  “I love your spunk but I still owe you a spanking for that kick in the shins. That hurt like hell.”

“You deserved that kick.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Will you feel better if you spank me?” she teasingly asked.

“You know it will make us both feel better.”  She laughed.

They slowly teased and flirted with each other, removing articles of clothing as time passed. When they were both completely naked, he slapped her ass and told her to go fix him a sandwich, he was starving.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.

He got this really stern look on his face.  “Am I supposed to be intimidated by that look?” she asked.

“You oughta be.” He chuckled.

. 

“Seriously, I’m hungry, I’ll need my stamina for what I have in mind.”  He raised his eyebrows up and down and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but you come too.  You can help.”

“But that’s woman’s work.”

“Do you really want to go there?” she asked.  He laughed again.  While he was bent over getting the lunch meat out of the fridge, she picked up the wooden spatula and gave him a good crack across his bottom.

After that, the fight was on until they were both exhausted and each of them needed a sandwich.

Yeah, I did it.  After four weeks of not writing one word, I finished this story.  Yahoo.

Stay tuned for more Aimless Ramblings.