Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Ryan
“Hey! Brando!”
Brandon and I exchange a look as we both register that someone from across the red line at center ice is calling his name.
Brandon looks horrified but I can’t quite understand why.
Minnesota doesn’t have very many shit talkers, nor have they had a tough-guy goon on their team in ages either.
They’re exactly what you would expect from a place like Minnesota. Clean in every way possible.
I nod my chin at him just as I hear the same voice call his name again. “What’s up? You know this guy?”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “That’s Richie McDaniel. We played together at UDub. He’s a real piece of work.”
I look over at the guy. He looks like a real piece of work. Sniveling, and rat faced. I guess I was wrong about Minnesota being a clean team. Looks like they called some grit up out of their prospect pool for the playoffs.
Brandon rolls his eyes. “The worst part is, he’s really fucking good too.”
“Not as good as you,” I say as I start to skate towards where this Richie McDaniel asshole is waiting for Brandon to come say hello.
“You’re not Brandon,” he says to me when I arrive.
“Nope,” I say and grab a puck to swirl around with my stick while we chat. I may as well warm up my mitts. “But he is my rookie. What do you want with him?”
“It’s fine, Ryan,” Brandon says, arriving at my side. He sticks his hand out to shake Richie’s. “It’s good to see you. I didn’t realize you got called up. That’s great!”
“Yeah, it is great,” Richie says, but he’s eyeing the two of us skeptically. “GM and Coach asked me to finish out the season with them to help get the team through the playoffs. They’d have been bounced in the first round had I not been here.”
“I’m sure they would have,” I say dryly.
He turns his attention more thoroughly to me. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”
“You know damn well who I am,” I say. “Don’t try to be cute. That’s how you lose fucking teeth out here.”
Brandon raises his eyebrow at me, and his lips pull taut like he’s trying not to smile or laugh.
“Anyway,” he says and bumps his fist against Richie’s.
“It’s good to see you, Rich. Have a good game.
” He knocks me with his shoulder. “Come on, Mr. Tough Guy. There’s some ladies over there who are asking you for a puck. ”
I look to where he’s referring. And yep, just as he said, there is a group of girls huddled together by the glass holding a sign asking me for a puck in exchange for a Ziploc bag filled with homemade cookies. Who am I to say no?
I grab two pucks and fling them over, then wink at the girls when they toss the cookies over the glass for me.
I give them one last wave goodbye as I skate the bag to our bench to hand over to our equipment manager.
Which is when I see that on the other side of the bag, they’ve written out one of the girls’ phone number.
Poor things. They should have given those to that McDaniel punk. Sure, he’s nothing to look at, but at least with him they stand a chance of having the gesture utilized to its full potential.
I look for Brandon again. He’s made his way to the glass behind Ivanov where his parents are watching warmups. He flicks a puck up off the ice with his stick, then sends it over the glass for them to catch.
It’s nice having his family here. I wish I could say the same about mine.
Brandon
“Fuck!” Ivanov yells out as Minnesota’s goal horn blares. He grabs his water bottle off his net and takes a sip.
Richie is celebrating behind the net right in front of him, and it is taking all of my strength not to throw my stick at him. I get it. We all celebrate after a goal, but he’s taking it too far.
“Enjoy being a backup in the KHL next season,” he says to Ivanov before he skates away.
To my delight, I see my father on the other side of the glass give him the finger. I don’t think Richie saw it, but I did. And I approve.
“He’s a prick,” I tell Ivanov. “He’s always been a prick.”
“You know him? Yes?”
I nod. “We played together at UDub. He’s a jerk.”
“A big jerk.” Ivanov pats me on the shoulder with his giant goalie glove. “Go shut him up.”
“I’ll try my best,” I say as I skate away towards the center of the ice for the next face off.
“I can’t believe you played on a team with that asshole,” Ryan says to me when I get to the dot.
“It’s not like I had a choice.”
“Please tell me you two were never linemates,” O’Shea says.
“Thankfully, no. He was too busy being the star while I was relegated to the second line.”
“Second line is still pretty good,” Danton says.
“I’m aware,” I say. And I am. It’s just, I’m also aware that Richie is good. Very good. He’s fast, aggressive, and has an unreal release for his shot that’s near impossible to stop. I may hate the asshole, but as we take our positions for the face off, I have to admit he’s a talented player.
“Back for more,” Richie taunts from where he’s standing.
“One goal,” Ryan says, shaking his head, “and this kid thinks he’s the next Wayne fucking Gretzky.”
“You doubt me?” Richie says. “It was your defense I slipped past to score on that breakaway.”
“Once,” Ryan says, staring right at him with defiance in his eyes. “And it won’t happen again.”
“We’ll see about that.” Richie smirks with his mouth guard sticking out between his teeth like a fishhook. Typical Richie.
I subtly tap Ryan on his back with my stick before I settle back into my position to wait for him to win the face off and shoot the puck out of the scrum.
Except the puck doesn’t come my way. Richie won the face off and sent it towards his left winger, who executed a perfect pass back to him.
“Fuck!” I yell out and go chasing after him. But Danton beats me to him, and shoulder-checks him at the blue line, prompting the refs to blow their whistles.
Ryan
I’m glad to see I’m not the only person this Richie kid is pissing off. I skate to the box and hand Danton back his stick, which he dropped after he leveled Richie. “Nice hit.”
“Sorry about that,” Danton says. “I just couldn’t take hearing his mouth anymore.”
“That’s a feeling shared by the entire team,” I say, as the box is being closed. I tap the glass with my fist, then skate away to prepare for this next face off.
“This is getting grueling,” Roysy says as he hops over the boards to take his place on the ice for the penalty kill. Brandon is back on the bench, and I’ll be joining him shortly. My legs are getting gassed and killing penalties isn’t my specialty.
“Win the face off,” Coach Chris says to me. “Then get off the ice. Reinhold, be ready to switch out with Christianson as soon as the puck leaves the dot.”
As I crouch at the dot, I try not to let the results of the last face off faze me.
I’m our team’s best face-off man, and in the top ten in the league.
This is one of my specialties, and as long as I’m centered, and I’m not staring at that asshole McDaniel’s face, I should be able to snap this one away cleanly.
The ref stands poised. He looks between me and Horvat, who’s taking the draw for Minnesota. We lock eyes for one quick second. I sneer at him, then take my gaze down to the ice. The second I see the puck, I bring my stick blade down and shoot the puck between my legs and out of the circle.
Horvat looks stunned. He definitely didn’t expect that.
Smiling, I sprint back to the bench and step through the open door as Reinhold leaps over the boards and skates off with abandon.
“How you holding up?” I ask Brandon beside me.
“Fine,” he grumbles.
I pat him on the shoulder. “Don’t let him get in your head. You already said it. He’s a prick.”
“He’s a huge prick.”
“Then we’ll go out there and shut him up together.”
Brandon turns and grins at me. “He’ll hate that.”
Brandon
“You guys really lucked out,” Richie says the next time Ryan and I are on the ice with him waiting for play to begin again.
“How so?” Ryan asks as he lazily loops around Richie.
“If Kennedy hadn’t done what he did to the Broad Wings, the Mules wouldn’t even be here.”
Ryan glares at Richie. “Which Kennedy?” he asks. He lifts his chin slightly and I know he’s itching for Richie’s answer. Probably predicting how Richie will respond. I already know the answer so I glare at him as well.
He stares right at Ryan. “Junior, of course.”
“Right.” Ryan nods his head. “You would be the kind of guy who watches the way that all went down and picks the side of the asshole homophobic father.”
Richie sets his shoulders, clearly not backing down.
“Of course I took the side of Broad Wings legend Connor Kennedy Senior. The dude is why half of us play hockey. Junior fucked up. He had the perfect legacy laid out for him. All he had to do was show up and skate and the universe worshipped him. And now… well, you know…”
“That he likes to suck cock?” Ryan’s eyebrow rises. “Last I checked, he can do that and still show up and skate. Be the best player in the league. One does not affect the other.”
“Is that your personal experience?” Richie asks.
My heart rate picks up in anger and in nervousness. Ryan is wading in dangerous waters right now.
“No.” Ryan shrugs. “I guess I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal.”
I let out a silent sigh of relief, then skate between the both of them. “Can we focus, please? There’s a face off about to take place.”
“Sure,” Richie says. “It’s not like you’re going to win it.”
“Right,” Ryan says. “Because I haven’t beaten you on eight of the ten draws we’ve taken tonight. Maybe check your stats before you continue to run your mouth.”
“Last I checked, the score is one–nothing in our favor.”
“Are you two done bickering?” one of the refs asks. “Because I’d like to get this game finished tonight.”
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Ryan says and crouches forward at the dot.
Richie takes his time centering himself to face him. “Brandon, you might want to request a trade this summer.” He gestures at Ryan with the handle of his stick. “Your linemate sucks.”
Ryan