Chapter Text
Dust had settled on the sea of sand surrounding Shane. His backpack crushed between his spine and the rusted metal bus stop, the stop that was supposed to still be in use. The sky had started to turn mellow shades of pink and orange, soon to be a blanket of dark blue.
He had planned his trip out meticulously, a two day break between games in Vegas and Salt Lake City had seemed like the perfect time to go and see one of the oldest ice hockey centres in America. One in a small rural town on the border of Utah and Nevada. He did not plan for his rental car to break down and for public transport to fail him in the exact area his phone service did not seem to cover.
His overheated phone was nearing the 3% mark and resignation took over him. He was going to have to walk 3 miles back to the small town he passed and hope there was a motel with vacancy left.
Just as he got up and started stretching his sore muscles, the sound of crunching tires announced an incoming car. An old truck, seemingly painted red years ago and now covered in scratches and dents, lit up the evening air with its headlights.
Left with little choice, Shane stuck out his right hand and popped his thumb up.
“Please don’t be a serial killer.” he whispered into the warm air.
Squeaky metal barrelled down the road towards him and, thank God, slowed down to a stop next to him. However, no window rolled down, instead the driver side door opened and slammed shut seconds after, a stranger’s boots traipsing towards the front of the truck.
“You need ride?” a harsh timbre voice sounded from the bulky man wearing cowboy boots. His accent seemed displaced in this area of Utah, but Shane was a man with no room for overanalysing right now.
“Yeah man,” He had to clear his throat, not having used his voice in a few hours. “My car broke down a few miles back and the bus never came.”
“Where to?” The stranger didn’t wait for Shane to answer before raising a lit cigarette to his lips and taking a proper drag.
“Uh, I’m supposed to be in Salt Lake City in two days. Came to see the Henley Centre? You probably don’t kno-“
“Henley Centre? Is closed. Years ago.” He interrupted, a cloud of smoke leaving his mouth with the words.
“No yeah, I, Uh. I like hockey? Ice hockey. Just wanted to see it, it’s one of the first ones in America.” Shane answered slightly akward.
“Ok. Hockey boy. You a fag or something?” The cigarette had almost reached its end now.
“What?” The question stumped Shane. His mouth remained open, stunned by the blunt question. His fingers fidgeted with his backpack straps. I’m not gay.
“You are waiting on outskirts of town, trying to get rides from strange men. Wanting to see closed down building? To do what?”
“Jesus Christ man. I’m not gay. I like hockey. NHL? You know what, never mind.” He muttered the last of his words, resigning himself once again to walking those miles and hopefully getting half a good night’s rest in a cheap motel room somewhere.
He started in the opposite direction of the one the car was going in. Please don’t run me over. Before his thoughts could spiral, the stranger spoke up.
“Wait.” The cigarette butt was thrown on the ground, snuffed out by his heavy boot. “Ok. I drive you to town. Don’t try things. Yes?”
“It’s fine. I shouldn’t get into cars with strangers, you’re right.”
“Ilya. Is my name. Not stranger now, yes?” The question was accompanied by a crooked smirk and a pair of raised eyebrows, challenging him.
Shane had turned partially around by now, facing the stranger, Ilya, scanning him from top to bottom and eyeing the truck. His back did feel really sore and walking back to a town with no promise of rest seemed like the short end of the stick compared to a car ride to wherever. Wait, where would they go?
“Where would you drive me?”
“To town, I just said. There is nice rooms there, I know owner. He makes nice price, I get cut. Good deal yes?” The questions seemed to keep coming from this strange small town cowboy.
Shane hesitated, mouth opening and closing again. “Look man, I really don’t want any trouble.”
“Is no trouble, is just 10 minutes from here. I get money, you get ride. Win-win.”
He couldn’t argue with that logic. And there was no saying what was waiting for him on the other side of this equation. He started walking towards the red pickup and nodded his head up and down a few times. “Yeah, okay. Thanks I guess.”
His hand lifted to the car door and opened the passenger’s side. A heavy scent of smoke and musk hit his nostrils, while overwhelming, it was not an uncomfortable smell. He could categorize Ilya now, feeling a tad safer in this unfortunate situation.
Moving a couple of empty beer bottles from the car seat to the floor, Shane sat himself down with his backpack sat on the tops of his feet. For a car this beat up, it felt strangely well taken care of.
Ilya got into the seat next to him and put his hands on the steering wheel, the car having never been shut off.
“I don’t drive strangers around. Tell me your name? Is only fair.”
It rendered a chuckle from Shane, how absurd this all was and what a story he would get to tell his teammates in a few days.
He looked at Ilya.
“Shane. I’m Shane. Nice to meet you Ilya.”
The crooked smile appeared again and just before his foot hit the gas he spoke again.
“Nice to meet you hockey boy.”