Chapter Text
August 2016 — the cottage
Shane had wanted to refuse. He didn’t like the idea of broadcasting his cottage on some network for anyone to see. The whole point was that it was the one place in the whole world where he could be guaranteed privacy.
“They’re not going to draw a map,” Lola had teased as they discussed it as a family over Shane’s belated birthday dinner.
“You could do a day in Montreal instead,” Yuna offered. “Take them around to your favorite places to eat?”
That sounded worse.
“No, the cottage is fine. It’s just a few hours, right?”
“Right. Some of the players are featuring their families, others aren’t. It’s up to you.”
Shane had made the mistake of looking at Lola. “Please don’t make me be in your awkward ‘this is me’ segment.”
“I literally didn’t even say anything.”
“You should let obaachan be in it though. That’ll get her major street cred with the poker ladies.”
So really, ultimately, Shane had Lola to thank for the idea.
The film crew would come to cottage in the morning, they’d film a few shots of Shane working out, along with a talking head, and then they’d head back towards Montreal, making a stop for none other than card night.
The idea had seemed brilliant. A way to please obaachan and make sure that they needed to leave the cottage by a certain time. The last thing Shane wanted was a bunch of strangers in his backyard for twelve hours.
He walked downstairs and held up two tanks—one white, one blue—for his mom.
Yuna looked up from her phone call and wordlessly pointed to the one on the right. Navy blue it was.
Shane nodded a thank you and retreated to his bedroom to get dressed. So this was 25.
Frankie massaged product into Shane’s hair as the director walked him through his vision. “I heard you do yoga.”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it helps me focus. Visualize what I’m supposed—”
“Great. I think some shots of you holding some yoga poses with the lake in the background will look great.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, great. Frankie, how much longer?”
Frankie put something on Shane’s face that made him want to sneeze. “Like 5.”
“Great.”
Shane looked up at Frankie after the director had walked away. “Is everything always that great?”
Frankie broke into a smile. “The greatest.”
He was happy that she was Asian. He’d only ever gone to Asian barbers since his hair was on the coarser side, but he didn’t often have the luxury of picking and choosing who did his hair and makeup for bigger brands. He never would’ve thought getting his makeup done would be such a common occurrence in his life.
Shane took a picture of the makeup table and sent it to Rozanov before he could talk himself out of it.
lily:
let me see you
jane:
no
lily:
come on
I bet you look pretty
jane:
no
lily:
tease
jane:
who taught you that?
and DON’T say my mom
lily:
why?
jealous?
Frankie finished and gave Shane a mirror.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Shane declined to take it. “I trust you.”
Franke held it up so he could see. “I didn’t do much.”
Shane forced himself to look in the mirror. “You left my freckles.”
“Do you want them covered?”
“No, no,” Shane stood. “I look more myself with them. Thank you.”
“We can do touch ups if you get sweaty out there.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Frankie laughed. “You say thank you a lot. I’m just doing my job.”
The director beckoned for them to come out back while the sun was still low over the horizon. “I guess, somehow, I am, too.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how awkward did that look?”
Frankie laughed. “It was sweet.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Sweet. Great.”
“No, I swear! You did good! The shot was beautiful with the sunrise and everyone loves when players talk about their families.”
Shane nodded. He couldn’t even remember what he’d said.
“You know, you’re not what I expected.”
“Hm?”
“The Shane Hollander. You’re like if the second coming of Christ played hockey. Or at least that’s how the media talks about you.”
“Oh. Yeah. That.”
“I thought my brother was just being naive when he said you were cool.”
“Your brother?”
“He’s in high school. Set to play for UT.”
“Congrats, that’s awesome. UT is a great school.”
“He’s like, your biggest fan. Has been for years.”
“Really? Cool. Is he going to go for the draft? Maybe he can play for the Metros. What position is he? We could use some more defenders.”
Frankie laughed. “I think that’s the most words you’ve said in a row all day. But no, he’s not that good. Plus my parents are pretty traditional. They want him to go to college. I’m already the disappointment child for doing this.”
“I think you’re really good at what you do.”
Frankie laughed again. “Thank you, Shane Hollander, God at hockey. Means a lot from someone who is quite literally the best at what they do.”
“I’m not the best.”
“Mmm. You’re basically the best.”
“I’ve been really lucky.”
“I’m trying to give you a compliment here.”
“Oh.” Shane fiddled with the zipper to his hoodie. “Sorry.”
“Oh my god. You are so not what I expected. Quinn is going to die.”
“Quinn? Is that your brother?”
“No. Alan’s my brother. Quinn’s my girlfriend. Also obsessed with you, but was convinced you were secretly an asshole. She’s going to be thrilled.”
“Oh.” Shane was very aware he was approaching his limit of socially acceptable oh’s used in a single conversation, but he didn’t know what else to say. Thank you, Frankie, for sharing that really intimate detail about your personal life with me, a stranger, who plays a notoriously homophobic sport? No, that would be sure to make things awkward.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell my brother you’re secretly really nice.”
Shane swallowed. “It’s not a secret.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re like the most feared guy in the league. Even I know that and I barely watch hockey.”
“I never get in fights!”
“That’s even scarier! You’re like above it all.”
Shane smiled. He liked Frankie. A lot. She was funny and easy to talk to and didn’t seem scared of anything. He wondered if she could do his hair and makeup all the time. Or like help him pick clothes for events. He’d talk to his mom. Yuna could make it happen.
Shane switched into a Metros shirt for the afternoon and snagged a jersey from the box of extras leftover from the club watch party his rookie season. He signed it (Shane Hollander-Harada) on his number and folded it into his duffel.
Shane was to drive his own car to go pick up obaachan, while Quinton the cameraman sat in the back. Yuna would follow with the rest of the crew.
To Shane’s relief, Quinton was quiet and knowledgeable about hockey, so the drive to obaachan’s was relatively painless. They talked about the playoffs, Mitty’s gifted hands, whether or not New York was ever going to get a championship, and whether or not Boston was going to be good this year. Shane warned Quinton when he pulled into his obaachan’s driveway that his grandmother didn’t speak much English.
Quinton captured their reunion and filmed Shane helping obaachan into the passenger’s side.
“My big break!” obaachan cheered when she saw the camera.
Shane laughed. “Yeah, we’re gonna have to get you an agent after this.”
The ladies were thrilled to see Shane again. Though it’s only been a few months since he visited, he agrees it’s felt like much longer.
“We watched your tournament on the tv!”
“My grandson was wearing the jersey you gave him for goodluck!”
“I couldn’t bear to watch, I was so nervous! I had my eyes closed and then all of sudden everyone is cheering! You had made the final goal!”
Ai pinched Shane’s cheek. “It is hard work, winning, huh? You look like you haven’t eaten in months! Mizu, your grandson is too skinny! He is going to get hurt!”
Mizu swatted away Ai’s hand. “Don’t jinx him! He is fine. He is a professional athlete. He has people who tell him what to eat.”
Shane looked back apologetically at the film crew. English was being spoken, but barely. “Sorry, I don’t know how much of this is usable.”
Quinton gave a thumbs up from behind the camera. They’d find a way to use all of it.
…….
Frankie gave Shane a few touchups before they sat down at the table. And, to obaachan and all the ladies’ delight, she gave everyone a few swipes of extra makeup before their closeups.
They filmed a talking head of obaachan, with Yuna translating, while the game went on in the back. And some of the ladies begged to share a few of their own words about Shane.
“He is very hard worker.”
“But a shitty card player!” Ai added.
“He will make good husband!”
Shane flushed. “Obaachan!”
“What?” she shrugged and switched to Japanese. “This is going to be broadcast. Who knows, maybe the person you’re supposed to marry will see it.”
“Maybe they will fall in love with you when they see how bad you are at cards!” Ai cackled.
Shane shook his head. “What if I said I was just letting you all win?”
“Even worse! Who would want a forfeit for a husband?”
The last shot of the night was of Shane. They’d gotten enough filler footage to overlay, but the director wanted a few sentences directly from him.
Frankie tousled his hair. “This is really great.”
“Ah, so now we’ve moved on to really great.”
“No, I’m serious. This is like, the most fun I’ve ever had on a shoot.”
“You did not have to give those samples out. I’ll pay you back for anything.”
“Don’t worry about it. Happy to do it. They are a cool group of ladies.”
“Yeah,” Shane looked over his shoulder at the lively table, “they’re the best. I’m really lucky.”
Frankie dropped her arms. “Maybe they support you because you deserve it.”
Shane gave a small smile of gratitude, before remembering what was in his duffel. “Oh, before I forget!” He unzipped the top and removed the jersey. “For your brother.”
Frankie broke into a smile. “Wow. Thanks, dude.”
Shane laughed. “You’re welcome. Dude. And if he rethinks the draft—”
“I’ll let him know he’s got a fan.” Frankie held up the jersey. “Wow, Alan’s gonna shit himself.”
“Sorry I didn’t grab something for Quinn. I didn’t know what she would like.”
“Just the fact I met you will be enough.” Frankie thought for a moment. “You know, she has a theory.”
“What? That I’m an asshole?”
“Well, now that that’s been debunked. She, and a bunch of people on the internet, have a theory that you and Rozanov are actually friends. That maybe he’s really nice and you’re the asshole. But since now we know you’re actually really nice, maybe you both are just friends?”
Shane’s heart dropped to his stomach. He almost wanted to say yes. Let it slip that yeah, maybe he didn’t hate Rozanov and let Frankie carry it to Quinn and Quinn carry it to the internet and maybe by the time he woke up tomorrow the rivalry would be gone and he wouldn’t have to pretend to hate Rozanov all the time.
“Shane!” The director called. “We’re ready for you.”
“I thought so.” Frankie pushed Shane in the direction of the crew. “Rozanov is probably just as much as an asshole in real life as he seems on tv. I’ll tell Quinn she’s crazy.”
“We’re just going to have you sit here,” the director pointed, “and share a few sentences about what this community means to you.”
Shane’s brain was spinning. He tried to gather his thoughts. He was almost to the end, just a few more questions and he would have survived this special and made everyone happy. He made his way to the chair the director had prepared. He could hear his obaachan’s voice over everyone else’s. She was so happy. Yumiko was showing everyone photos of her grandson. He was only in fourth grade and Shane’s jersey had absolutely swallowed him whole, but he’d been so excited to get it. He now wanted to be a pro hockey player. He sat down and faced the camera. Over the director’s shoulder, he saw Frankie take another long look at the jersey before starting to pack up her supply kit.
“Whenever you’re ready, Shane.”
“Uh, yeah. This community means the world to me. I wouldn’t be here without the sacrifices made by family. My grandparents immigrated to Canada and gave up everything in Japan to give my mom a life here. My parents have spent so much of their time and energy on my training. Everything from driving me to practices, to cheering me on at games, to making sure I was eating right and had access to a gym.” Shane’s voice faltered.
Lola was right. Whether he wanted it or not, everyone was looking at him. Kids were looking at him. Hockey was more than staying fit. He was more than a body forced to operate like a machine.
“Uh, my whole family, from my grandparents to my parents to my aunts and uncles and cousins, some bio and some not,” Shane gestured at the table of aunties over his shoulder, “they remind me what I’m doing this for. I’ve been so fortunate to be able to play hockey in this way, and the amount of support I have, it’s just unbelievable, you know? So I guess, I just really want to pay that back. It’s not for me. It’s for my team and it’s for every boy or girl who looks like me. I come here because I love spending time with my obaachan and her friends, but also because I want them to know that I remember. That I appreciate everything. And when their grandsons and nephews and granddaughters and nieces are playing pro one day, I want them to know I’m rooting for them. I’ve been on their side since the beginning. I want them to know we’re on the same team.”
Someday it wouldn’t just be Shane. Someday there’d be teams and podiums full of Asian kids, unabashedly following their dreams. Someday, when he was too old to score the game winning shot in OT, someone else would. It was depressing to imagine himself replaced in the league, but it was perhaps the most comforting thought he’d had all day.
The director called cut and the crew began packing up. Shane thanked the profusively for the day, while Yuna asked for Frankie’s business card with a promise to get in touch.
Shane finally returned to the table and Ai joked if he was finally ready to play. He asked to be dealt in. The ladies cheered and Aya passed him her plate of homemade mochi.
He took two.