Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Molly
“Whoa! We’re so close to the ice!” Matty exclaims as I shuffle sideways into our row and pull him with me. He’s so distracted by all the music, lights, and people that he almost tripped down the stairs just now.
“Thank god for the glass between us and the pucks. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like sustaining a head injury tonight.”
“There’s Bobby!” Matty points to the rink where a stream of players in gold and black take the ice. My heartrate jumps at the sight of my kind-of boyfriend all geared up and speeding across the rink. This is more exciting than I thought it would be.
“I’m gonna go down and bang on the glass to see if I can get his attention.” Matty lunges for the stairs again, and I just barely catch the sleeve of his jersey.
“Hold up, Speed Racer. He’s working. Let him focus on the game. We’ll have plenty of time to see him after.”
Matty reluctantly takes his seat, and I do the same.
“Besides, who’s going to eat this candy if you abandon me?” I pull a box of Milk Duds from my purse and Matty’s face lights up.
“I can take care of that for you,” my kid assures me, snatching the box from my hand and tearing it open like a bear raiding a camper’s cooler.
I’ve never been to a professional hockey game before. It’s almost giving me sensory overload and the game hasn’t even started yet. My gaze tracks Bobby in his #62 jersey as he whacks a puck toward the goal and sneaks it past the goalie before he circles around to grab another puck. Why is my heart beating so fast?
“Did I tell you Coach Chloe scheduled our first official game?” Matty asks over a mouthful of caramel and chocolate. “She said she’s gonna let me be a winger.”
I smile at Matty, pretending to know what that means. “That’s great!”
“I guess I’d better make sure I don’t get grounded between now and then so I don’t let down Coach and the team.” He shoves another two candies in his mouth and turns his attention back to the players warming up on the ice.
I tap his temple with my finger. “Good thinking.” I’ve been tiptoeing around the subject lately since I haven’t had any more calls from the school and Matty’s mood appears less troubled. But I suppose now is as good a time as any, since he brought it up.
“You know, I got a call from the counseling place I told you about. They said they can finally fit us in right after Thanksgiving.”
He doesn’t look away from the players as he shrugs. “Okay, but I should probably tell you a couple more details since you’re going to find out anyway.” My mom senses go on alert, but I stay quiet. If my tween is volunteering private information, I’m not about to do anything to deter him.
He finally turns to look at me. Damn, in these seats, he’s the same height as me. How did that happen? “So, it’s pretty much just been this Raiden guy making trouble, like I told you. The kid he’s been bullying the most is gay like Dad, so I’ve been sticking up for him and, you know, it’s making Raiden give me a hard time too. That’s what most of the shoving and name calling has been about.”
I knew some of this already, but not that Raiden was seeking out gay kids or that Matty himself was a target. I’ve suspected it, but he never said for certain until now. When Matty showed me the screenshots he’d taken, I sent them to the school, but I haven’t heard anything since. Now that I know Matty is a target, though, I’ll be calling again for sure.
“So, he’s bullying you?” I ask just to make sure.
“I can handle it, Mom.” Matty shrugs before turning his attention back to the ice. “Bobby!!” He waves his hand wildly and shouts to his new hero.
I’m too distracted to even look to see if Bobby has noticed us. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry or hug the snot out of my kid. But before I can decide, Bobby’s agent, Kaitlyn, appears beside me, her dark hair pulled up into a topknot and a carseat balanced in one arm.
“Hi! You must be Molly and Matthew.” She smiles warmly at us. “I’m Kaitlyn.”
“Oh, let me help,” I say, unfolding the empty seat next to me so she can set down the carseat. As soon as she does, we shake hands. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she says as she takes the seat next to the baby carrier. “Believe me, I have been starved for adult interaction since this little lady showed up.” She lifts the blanket covering the carseat to reveal the most precious baby with wispy black hair and a rosebud mouth.
“She’s gorgeous ,” I gush. And no wonder. Kaitlyn is drop dead beautiful, and I’m pretty sure I did a double take the first time I laid eyes on her fiancé, Banks Bennet. The man is fine . The two were destined to have runway-model babies.
“We definitely lucked out. Mei sleeps through anything. If only she’d do it at night instead of during the day.” Kaitlyn pulls a pair of baby pink headphones from her bag and carefully secures them over her sleeping daughter’s ears. “Just in case.” She grins as more fans trickle in and take their seats.
“Boy Scouts have got nothing on moms. We’re always prepared for any eventuality.”
“I’m trying,” Kaitlyn sighs. “But I’ve got to confess, I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. We’re both first-time parents.”
“Aw, you’re doing great, I’m sure.” I gesture to Matty whose got his nose buried in the program now that the players have left the ice. “I can’t tell you how many rookie mistakes we made with Matthew, and he somehow turned out okay.” More than okay considering his current situation. “It’s a constant learning experience. Just when you think you can predict your kid’s behavior, they change it up on you and you’ve got to figure it out all over again.”
“Oh my god, yes! I swear a good back rub would calm Mei down like a charm for the first few weeks, but now? She ratchets up to DEFCON one if I so much as lay a hand on her back when she’s upset. Why can’t they just speak from birth, so we know what we’re doing wrong?”
I laugh. “Hang in there. It’ll get easier once she starts sleeping through the night.” Lack of sleep is enough to drive the sanest person batty—I should know. Although, on the nights I spend with Bobby, my insomnia has gotten remarkably better. I’m assuming it’s sexual exhaustion.
Kaitlyn drops her head back and closes her eyes. “I can’t wait to get rid of these bags under my eyes.” She straightens and begins to remove her jacket. “And poor Banks. He kept insisting on getting up with me to feed Mei in the middle of the night. I finally had to put my foot down when he fell asleep in his truck in the parking lot and missed practice. He’s got three years left on his contract, and we’re not risking the wrath of Coach Marsh. My man is staying on the first line until the day he hangs those skates up.”
I bite back another laugh. “I think my low point was pouring orange juice into my coffee instead of milk and then being too tired to pour myself a fresh cup. Ten out of ten do not recommend.”
“Oh, I don’t mess around when it comes to my coffee,” Kaitlyn responds with a tone usually reserved for the most serious of offenses. Coffee means business. Noted.
The lights suddenly drop in the arena, and all eyes go to the ice. “Here they come!” Matty announces as spotlights begin dancing on the ice and cheers go up from the crowd. Both teams enter the rink to the tune of an old Aerosmith song and file to their respective benches. The excitement of the crowd is palpable, and I’m literally on the edge of my seat already.
When Banks’s name is announced for the starting line-up, Kaitlyn lets out a deafening whistle and I clap extra loudly. Mei sleeps through it all like a champ.
From what Bobby has told me, he plays on the second line of four, and they’ll all switch out every few minutes throughout the game.
When Banks skates up to the circle in the middle and the puck drops, the crowd goes crazy. I dig in my purse for my glasses I hardly ever wear, but it’s almost impossible to follow the puck without them. It zooms from stick to stick in what looks like a choreographed dance between players.
Matty and Kaitlyn both cheer and boo in sync when various things happen. My knowledge of hockey is pretty limited, so I stay mostly quiet, waiting for someone to score a goal that I can cheer or boo.
A few minutes in, one of the opposing players from Detroit takes his stick and blatantly jams it into Storm Chaser number 23’s stomach, causing the guy to double over and fall to the ice. The crowd gasps and boos as play continues, and I turn to Matty.
“They’re allowed to just do that?”
He shrugs, so I turn to Kaitlyn whose eyes never stray from the ice as she answers, “Dan-O will be fine. Refs missed it, but Visick will pay for it. You’ll see.” She gestures to the bad guy.
“That sounds ominous.”
The player she referred to as Dan-O gets to his feet, still holding his stomach, and skates to the bench, a teammate replacing him as he throws his leg over the barrier. Play continues for another couple minutes when all the players switch out with teammates from the bench and a familiar jersey catches my eye.
Number 62. Rhodes. My pulse immediately races.
“There’s your guy,” Kaitlyn says.
Instinctively, I open my mouth to protest, but then I snap it shut again. Because Bobby is my guy. My lips spread in a smile I’m sure is goofy as hell and I train my eyes on my man again.
By the middle of the second period, the Storm Chasers are up two to zero with Dan-O, who I learned is team captain Danny Bright, having scored one and Banks having scored the second–something that had Kaitlyn out of her seat and bellowing like one of those beer-bellied fans you see on TV. I’m starting to pick up on the game a little better and manage not to wince when the puck goes racing a hundred miles an hour toward our goalie Drugov’s face.
But I’m still completely unprepared for what happens next.
Bobby comes off the bench and switches out with Banks, but the rest of our players stay on the ice. Kaitlyn lets out what I can only describe as a cackle, but my attention stays on Bobby as he skates directly for one of the Detroit players and abruptly slams him into the side of the rink. In a flash, both Bobby and this opposing player have their helmets and gloves off and are in a literal fist fight–right there on the ice!
The crowd goes batshit crazy, half the crowd chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” and the other half booing. When I catch sight of the Detroit player’s jersey, I realize it’s that Visick guy who jabbed Dan-O with his stick earlier.
“Is that...blood?!” I ask no one in particular, my voice high-pitched.
“Yeah!” Matty yells with obvious relish. Good god, has he developed bloodlust or something?
“I think so,” Kaitlyn responds, casual as can be.
The referees allow the fight to continue for almost a minute, for some reason, before they intervene and pull the two players apart. Bobby turns back toward the bench, his hands raised in victory. The players on the bench let out a chorus of “Roadie! Roadie!” as Bobby and the other guy each go to their respective penalty boxes and the game starts up again like nothing happened.
Kaitlyn is still clapping and does a double take when she glances my way and notices my look of horror. For some crazy reason, it makes her laugh and grab my arm.
“First game, huh?”
I nod dumbly.
“Didn’t Bobby tell you he’s the enforcer?”
“Um, I think he mentioned it, but I just thought it was another nickname like all the guys have.”
I look over to Matty again to see him keenly focused on the game. Am I the only one who thought that was nuts? I mean, sure, I saw Bobby roughhousing with Richie last night, but that’s what brothers do, right? And nobody got punched in the face. But Bobby literally picked a fight with this other player out there in front of all these people–while doing his job! I’m really not sure how I feel about that kind of violence—especially when my kid is starting to see Bobby as a role model. Dammit!
Clearly not sensing my inner freak out, Kaitlyn snickers into her chest before getting her shit together and spelling it out for me. “Okay, so every team has an enforcer and usually a pest. The enforcer’s job is to protect the star players by keeping the other team in line. It’s actually really important. When Visick threw that stab, he knew he was out of the ref’s sightline and he’d get away with it. Not only is Dan-O the team captain, he’s probably the second best player on the team.” She brings a hand to her chest. “After my baby daddy, of course.”
“Of course,” I echo robotically, trying to process this information about Bobby and his role.
“If we let something like a stab at Dan-O slide, then Detroit will start ramping things up, possibly seriously injuring one of our key players. So it’s Bobby’s job to get physical and put Visick back in his place. It’s an unwritten code of sorts.” She points to the bench. “You see number 44? That’s Fornier. He’s the pest. His job is to get under the other team’s skin and throw them off their game. Taunt them so they make stupid mistakes—something he’s really good at because that boy can be annoying as hell.”
“And this is all . . . allowed?”
“Well, fighting gets you a five-minute major.” She shrugs. “And if you take it too far, there can be other consequences. But Bobby never takes it too far.” I guess that’s something.
“A five-minute major?”
“Five minutes in the sin bin—the penalty box.” She gestures to the scoreboard where a penalty clock is counting down toward two minutes as the teams keep battling for the puck and racing around the rink. “Fun fact: that’s where that band Five for Fighting got its name.”
“Oh.” I’m still wrestling with everything she’s said.
Something tells me I’ve got an uncomfortable conversation ahead of me. Who knew a simple game could put me into an existential crisis?
“Hey, Mom,” Matty says, leaning into me and smiling. “Bobby stood up to a bully just like I did.”
Well, damn.