Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice)

“I can’t believe you did all this for us, Vince,” Mr. Pruitt said, smiling his signature gap-toothed smile. Mr. Pruitt was a white man, sixty-two, with long gray hair and more unbelievable road trip stories than a circus troupe “You know you didn’t need to.”

“Yeah, we’re happy just to hang out. We didn’t think we’d see you much once the season started,” Lonnie added, clapping Vince on the back. Where Mr. Pruitt was pale, Lonnie was bronzed like he lived at the beach. And to be honest, on some occasions, he did. He was also very proud of his full head of brown hair and matching long beard.

And while I usually would be hugging them and asking how they’d been, I was currently standing there on the edge of the conversation, completely shocked.

When Vince had asked me what I would usually be doing on a Sunday morning, I’d thought I’d be throwing him for a loop when I told him. Because every Sunday morning, I either made egg sandwiches myself, or grabbed some from McDonald’s, along with some orange juice, and came downtown to the park where a handful of Tampa’s displaced population tended to congregate.

It was something I started doing when I was in college, and the tradition continued once I made so many friends. While it killed me to see their situation stay the same for so long, it also filled me with joy to spend time with them, to hear their stories and show them kindness that I knew they weren’t showed often. When I had a little extra to give, they were usually the first people I gave it to. Sometimes I took them to get their hair cut. Sometimes I put them up in a hotel when a cold front swept through, which wasn’t often in Tampa, thank goodness. And sometimes, most times, I just came out to chat with them, to remind them that regardless of how some might treat them, they were still worthy of love and respect.

This morning, with Vince’s credit card in hand, I’d decided to spoil them not only with a hot breakfast from McDonald’s, but with Publix subs to save for later, and brand-new packages of socks and underwear, too. And the entire time, Vince had been quiet, wearing a smug little smile that I thought meant he was just amused and confused about what was happening.

But when we pulled up to the park and walked over, all of its residents greeted Vince before they did me.

And I’d been standing there confused ever since, watching as they interacted the way family would.

“Well, to be fair, you probably won’t see quite as much of me,” Vince admitted, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “But this one dragged me out this morning. And I’m glad she did.”

“Ah, Maven is an angel on Earth,” Nonna said. I didn’t know if that was her real name or just what she had everyone call her, but she was one of the only women who stayed at the park with all these rascals. She had olive skin, and an accent I couldn’t quite place, along with a smile that felt like a warm hug any time she geared it toward you. The guys here respected her like she was their grandmother even though she couldn’t be more than sixty years old, so maybe that was why they called her Nonna. “You picked a good girl to date, son.”

“Oh, she’s not my girl,” Vince said, his eyes twinkling a little bit when they met mine. “Not yet, anyway.”

Lonnie and Mr. Pruitt exchanged glances on a snicker at that, but I was still too shocked to even roll my eyes. Here was this man who lived in a multi-million-dollar condo not even five blocks from this park, who wore designer suits and drove a car that cost more than my parents’ home — and somehow, everyone here knew him.

How?

I watched them all chatter for a bit as Vince handed out the underwear and socks before digging out breakfast from the multiple paper bags. Everyone chowed down and laughed beneath the large oak trees covered in Spanish moss that shaded the park. I joined in, but still couldn’t hide my what the fuck face, apparently, because after a while, Vince nudged my arm.

“What’s wrong, Maven? You look a little perplexed there.”

I glared at him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or just sit there all cocksure?”

“I like the sound of that second option,” he said, biting into a McGriddle even though we’d already eaten a massive waffle. He was so lean, I found it hard to believe he ate as much as I’d seen him eat in the past couple of days. Then again, when you skate nonstop for hours at a time, I guess you need to pack it on so you have the energy to do so.

“How do you know everyone here?”

“Oh, we met Vince during rookie camp,” Lonnie answered for me. “He was walking back to his place after practice one day and we called him over, started chatting.”

“Yep. I told him how I set up outside of every home game with my bamboo roses for sale,” Mr. Pruitt said.

“And I told him how I play my bucket drums,” Lonnie added. “Before you knew it, Vince was inviting us up to his place.”

My jaw nearly hit the grass. “To… his place?”

“Oh, that was such a lovely day,” Nonna said all dreamy-eyed. “He let us all take showers, made us a hot meal, and even let us sleep in the air conditioning for a while. We made a big camp there in his living room.”

I blinked, sure I wasn’t hearing this right.

When I looked at Vince, he was chewing, silent, staring down at his sneakers with his cheeks a bit pink.

“I tried to convince him to give us a key, but…” Nonna said wistfully, a rascally grin on her face.

“Now, Nonna — if I would have done that, I would have woken up with you in my bed by now,” Vince said.

“And it would have been the best morning of your life,” she combatted.

He winked at her, and she pinched off a piece of her hashbrown and tossed it at him.

“Since then, we been friends, haven’t we, Vince?” Mr. Pruitt declared with a grin. “He comes by and says hello when he can, and Lonnie beats the drums extra loud when we win here at home.”

“I even painted his number on the side,” Lonnie said proudly. “Forty-one, baby.”

Vince looked at me then, lifting a brow.

He knew without me saying it.

He’d surprised me yet again.

“Excuse me?”

We all turned to look toward where the soft voice had come from, finding a woman with a young boy tucked into her side. She smiled shyly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but my son is your biggest fan. He’d really love to take a picture with you, if that would be okay.”

Vince wiped the crumbs from his hands and stood from where we’d been sitting on a blanket. “Of course. What’s your name, little man?”

“I’m The Machine.”

Vince’s eyes shot up, and the boy’s mom let out a little laugh.

“His name is Matty.”

“But my teammates call me The Machine because I’m the best goalie, and no one ever scores on me.”

Vince bent down to Matty’s level. “Ever?”

Matty seemed a little unsure, looking at his mom, but then he smiled and shook his head. “Never.”

“Think you could come give Perry some lessons?”

Matty laughed at that, and suddenly he was shy, his cheeks a flaming red as he tucked behind his mom a little bit.

Vince took the photo with Matty alone before the mom handed her phone to Lonnie so she could get in, too. I took a video from behind them, scanning the whole park to show the clothes and food Vince had brought out.

But I didn’t post it, not yet, mostly for fear of fans swarming the park, but also a little because I didn’t want to.

It was a dangerous admission, because it was quite literally my job — to show Vince’s life to the world. But in this moment, my heart was beating a little odd, my mind swimming with the contradiction of the man before me. Last night he was pinning me with an angry glare, his hand holding my jaw like he didn’t know if he wanted to kiss me or throw me to the ground.

And this morning, he was spending part of his day off with people most of the world turned their back on.

Therefore, the world could wait.

Right now, in this moment, Vince Tanev was for my eyes only.