Chapter 2
KNOX
Over the next few weeks we continue to win games, but my hopes of going out on top have gone up in smoke.
After I punched out the photographer I spent the night in jail.
Gerald Deveraux, the team owner, pulled some strings and made the charges go away, but there was nothing that could be done about the pictures and videos.
It wasn’t long before I was being raked over the coals all over from gossip sites to sports talk shows that used to adore me. They have been painting me as a woman beater ever since. Of course, Madison has taken the opportunity to slam me on every media outlet that will give her airtime.
It’s a clusterfuck, and I have myself to thank for it because I couldn’t control my temper through the pain.
That’s one of the things that I wasn’t prepared for, how chronic pain can alter your personality so much that you don’t fully recognize yourself anymore. I’ve always been controlled, even-tempered even. Pain is a poison that left unmanaged will destroy every part of your life.
Weston, Jude, and Asher, my teammates and best friends since college, have been trying to get me to speak up and tell the truth.
Instead I’ve spent all the time I’m not on the ice in my apartment with a bottle of Jack in my hand.
The poison has seeped too far into my blood that now even the emotional pain doesn’t register.
The only way to live with this level of agony is to go numb. It’s either that or go insane.
My career is already fucked. It won’t matter that I’ve got one of the highest scoring records in league history, all that matters is the two minute long video played on a loop everywhere that has a screen. My fans, the ones that I wanted to connect with for one more season, have all turned on me.
Why should I tell my side of things if they’ve already written me off?
It won’t matter what I say or don’t say.
I don’t know why I thought I was special.
The higher they build you up, the harder they pull you down.
It’s the circle of fame, and my time has finally come.
I guess I did stay in too long after all.
For the rest of my life I will be treated like a pariah.
I’m starting to understand why Jude hides away on his mountain when we’re not playing.
He was in a car accident early in our career, his girlfriend died from her injuries, and the only one who stood by him was Gerald and those of us on the team.
At least I know they will have my back, but how much damage will I do to them with all this bad press?
I’m losing my grip on the desire to finish this season. If I didn’t have a contract I’d have already walked away.
I wash down a few Vicodin with a heavy pull on the bottle of Jack.
A few weeks ago I wouldn’t even be taking the pain meds, but I don’t see any reason to avoid it now.
At least they give me some relief. For a short period of time I am able to forget the shitstorm my life has turned into.
More importantly, the pain releases its claws from my skin for a while. They let me breathe.
Dr. Frost has been pushing pain meds on me since we started training for this season.
I finally took him up on the offer. He thinks he’s regulating my usage though.
He doesn’t know I’m supplementing the prescription he gave me with more pills I’ve been getting through a discreet dealer.
Someone who knows the hoops pro athletes have to jump through.
I can’t run out of my pills and try and get more through another doctor.
That’s how you get labeled a drug seeker and forced to detox.
Until I can have my surgery, I’m not letting go of the only thing making life bearable right now.
It’s bad enough I have to moderate how many I can take on game days, just in case they test me.
Also, when I take too many my reaction time is too slow.
What is the use of dulling the pain if it takes away the edge I still have?
Tonight that edge is being brought to me by rage. Since we’re in the Pacific Conference we’re facing off against the Surge again, and my new nemesis, Dean Fellows. My leg bounces while I sit on the bench waiting to go out on the ice.
Jude saddles up next to me. He’s not usually the one to seek out any kind of interaction, so I pay attention. “What the hell is up with you? I’m the one who berserks out, not you. You’re kinda stealing my schtick, man.”
I bark out a laugh. Leave it to Jude “No Mercy” Mercer to lead with self-deprecating humor.
He’s one of my best friends, but he’s been distant since his accident.
I wouldn’t really say we’re all that close anymore.
We all tried to reach him when he descended into his personal hell twelve years ago.
I think, though, he can sense that we have more in common now.
“It’s nothing,” I grumble.
See, now I’m avoiding my feelings too. It’s like we’re bonding.
The game starts and it’s going pretty much like the last time we faced off against the Surge.
The prospect of losing to us for the second time isn’t sitting well with their cocky center.
I remember that feeling, when you have youth and skill but still can’t manage to bring home the win.
It took me some time to learn the same thing he’s struggling to come to terms with, that age doesn’t mean weakness but experience.
During the second intermission Dr. Frost comes over to check on me. He lowers his voice. “How is the shoulder doing?”
I roll it. There’s pain, but it’s manageable. Not that I’ll tell him that, because if he thinks I’m fine he won’t give me my approved dose of painkillers. “It aches, but I can play through it.” I add a grimace so he thinks I’m just putting on a brave face.
He nods his head and reaches into his medical bag. “I brought your next dose. Since you want to postpone sur—”
I hold up my hand to stop him. He’s being careful, but we’re not in private so there’s no such thing as being too careful.
Another nod. “Right, well these will help you cope. Be careful though, I want you to promise not to overdo it.”
I take the pill he offers and wash it down with some water from my bottle. It’s not quite enough, but I’ll take care of that after the game.
When intermission is over I face off against Dean. He taps his stick against the ice and sneers at me. I can feel the meds start to work, and it gives me a surge of euphoria. Suddenly I feel like I can take on the world, starting with the Surge’s center.
I win the battle for the puck and shoot it over to West. Dean is more interested in battling me than fighting to make a play. Works for me.
He tosses down his stick and throws off his gloves. I smile and wait for the hit. Gotta let him take the first swing. I might be a hothead, but I’m not stupid. I’m okay heading to the penalty box, but I don’t need to be ejected from the game.
“Can’t outplay me, so you’re going to resort to fighting? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Are you jealous that I’m getting all the love from the press?” I tap the side of my helmet with my stick. “You’re just dying to give me a little tap, aren’t ya?”
I can see the moment the rage overcomes him. I know he’s going to hit me, and it’s probably going to hurt even. Pain has become my constant companion though, so I welcome the sweet ache. It will help me fight through the fog of the pills.
Dean’s face turns purplish, and he swings at me. His fist bounces off the side of my helmet and I laugh. He takes both hands and shoves me when I don’t take the bait. I slide backwards, but don’t lift my hands to fight him.
I know the moment I fight back they’ll roast me even more than before.
No, it’s time to take the heat off for a minute. To be able to breathe. I feel bad for a moment, turning the heat on him, but if he’s willing to take the bait he deserves it.
My lack of involvement sends Dean over the edge. He grabs the grill on my helmet and sends a punch to my side. I can feel my ribs snap, and I laugh. He hits me again, and the air escapes my chest. Out of the corner of my eye I see the ref finally skating over.
When he comes close enough to hear, I change tactics. “Fellows, calm down. It’s just a game. We battled and I won. You need to go to the bench and calm down or something. Fight me for the puck, not with your fists.”
“You son of a bitch, you set me up,” he shouts, shoving me again.
I hold my hands up. “I did nothing. You did this all to yourself.”
Since we’re in control of the puck the ref doesn’t stop the play. He signals a major penalty for Dean and sends him to the bench for five minutes.
Unfortunately, his hit landed better than I expected and I too have to go to the bench to see the doc again. At least we won’t be playing a man down though.
Dr. Frost prods my side and I wince. I wasn’t expecting the rough treatment from him. He’s been treating me like I’m made of papier-maché. “You’re done. Go to the training room and my intern Delaney will take the x-rays that I will need.”
“Delaney? The child you have working for you?” I scoff.
“She’s a certified radiology technician, and I trust her,” he says, shutting down my tantrum.
I know when something isn’t worth fighting. I do as I’m told and go back to the training room. I might have a busted rib, so it really isn’t worth fighting.
She takes the images quickly, and I feel a bit bad, because she’s actually decent at her job. She’s only twenty though, and so short she appears to be much younger.
I have nothing to do except wait for Dr. Frost to read the film. That is until Gerald strolls in. He unbuttons his suit jacket and sits down in front of me.
“I didn’t fight,” I start to defend myself. It must be bad if he came all the way down from the owner’s box.
He nods his head. “Not this time. It made me think. While I know that you goaded him, and I’m pissed that you may have a cracked rib, you might be on to something. I think we’ve been wrong sitting by and waiting for your scandal to pass by. I’m hiring a PR professional to take over.”
I am shaking my head before he even finishes. I don’t need some stuffed suit telling me how to live my life. I didn’t do a fucking thing wrong. Well, punching that asshole wasn’t exactly right, but I’d challenge most people to react better in my shoes.
“You’re spiraling, and I’m not going to stand by and let you ruin what you’ve worked so hard for.
If this was just about the team, I’d replace you.
I’d hate it, but I’d do it. You won’t get rid of me just because you leave the team though.
You’re like a son to me, and I care about what happens to you,” he says.
Well, fuck me sideways. Looks like I’m getting a babysitter.