73. Kai
Kai
When I return home, the door to my apartment is slightly ajar and there’s noise coming from inside. What the fuck?
“I think there is someone trying to break into my apartment,” I respond in a hushed tone.
“What’s your address?”
“15 Grove Place, Charleston. I’m in the penthouse.”
“Okay sir, are you in a safe location?”
“I think so. I don’t know. I’m in the hallway.”
“Okay, we’re sending two officers to respond to the scene. I would suggest waiting outside the building or with a neighbor if you can. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until they arrive?”
“No, that's okay. Thank you.”
I should have taken her advice. I should have knocked on a neighbor's door. Then maybe I could have avoided dealing with a shitstorm I didn’t want and wasn’t prepared for.
But curiosity, surging adrenaline, and an overwhelming need to protect what’s mine forces me to creep into the kitchen and grab a knife from the butcher block.
I hear rummaging and loud thuds coming from my bedroom and stealthily move towards it.
When I carefully and quietly set foot in my room, shock takes hold.
This is a bad idea. My dressers have been ransacked, there are clothes everywhere.
Deodorant, picture frames, a lamp and other loose items strewn across my bed.
I’m even more confused when I realize I recognize the man currently digging through my walk-in closet.
“Aiden?” My voice is harsh and strained.
I drop the knife and it clatters to the ground.
“What the fuck is going on man?” He backs away from the closet, his hands up.
He looks awful. Way worse than he did weeks ago.
And giving him a once over I realize relinquishing my only weapon might have been a mistake.
“You weren’t home,” he stammers, hands on his head. “And you said I could crash here whenever I needed to. I was looking for something,” he mumbles, running his fingers through his hair furiously. He starts pacing the room while he drags his palms down his face.
“I need money, Kai. I owe someone a lot of money. I don’t have it and it’s too much to ask anyone for. I thought if I could sell your Stanley Cup Jersey maybe I could repay part of the debt,” he confesses.
“So, you broke into my apartment to steal from me? Are you fucking kidding me, Aiden? What is going on with you?” I yell.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to regulate my breathing before I do something I’ll regret.
“Do you understand how insane that is?” I press, my voice measured and calculated this time.
“I just need a second,” he mutters while rushing to the bathroom. Before I can ask him anything else, the door is slammed in my face and I hear the click of the lock. I start banging on the door with my fist impatiently.
He needs a second? The asshole who just broke into my apartment? I want to kill him but I know those kinds of impulses aren’t helpful right now and aren’t going to get us anywhere.
“You need to come out here, Aiden. The police are on their way. I thought someone was trying to break in.” I guess someone had broken in, it just wasn’t the violent intruder that I assumed it was. He opens the door a fraction and it’s up close I truly understand the shape he’s in.
Grungy. Disheveled. Desperate.
This is bad. This is so bad. And what the hell am I supposed to tell the police? Not only had he been trying to steal from me, but he looks strung out. He’s thin and pale, dark purple bags haunting his bloodshot glassy eyes.
Once upon a time, I convinced myself that I hated Aiden.
Not because we fought over Kendall and not because I had deep misplaced anger over my mom’s accident.
But because I envied him and his golden life.
His simple, uncomplicated functional family.
I was much older when I reached the conclusion that every family is its own unique brand of fucked up.
Every family has its secrets, trauma, and dysfunction.
But it was much easier to hate Aiden for what I thought he had than myself for what I couldn’t fix.
I don’t envy him anymore. I pity him, and that feels infinitely worse.
“Kai, I can’t deal with the police right now,” he begs. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll never come here again. Please don’t turn me in.” He’s shaking, worry seeping out of him.
I stare at this man, my best friend. The guy I grew up playing hockey and football with, who knows all my secrets, that I have probably punched one too many times.
The same guy who won “best looking” in high school and could make any girl fall for him.
Here he is in my apartment, begging for mercy and pleading for me to understand the situation he’s in.
I’ve never seen him like this. Small, panicked, broken.
What the fuck happened to him?
The plan starts taking shape in my brain before it’s even out of my mouth.
“It’s either jail or rehab,” I tell him resolutely.
“No. No no no,” he pleads, hands clasped together. He’s crying now, wiping snot from his nose and tears from his eyes with his arm. “I can’t go to rehab. I can’t. They’ll find me. I owe too much money anyways.” This is my ultimatum and he’s out of time and out of options.
“I’ll pay your debt,” I offer, my voice neutral and controlled. “But only if you agree to get on a plane tomorrow and go directly to a rehab facility.”
He swallows, his Adams’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Kai, I owe 50,000 dollars,” he whispers, his dilated pupils locked on mine. At first, I think he’s joking, that I heard him wrong. But his haunted face tells me all I need to know.
“Jesus Christ, Aiden,” I scrub my hand over my jaw, contemplating the options. Not that there are many. If he goes to jail, he’ll likely end up in the same position: trying to rob someone else, or worse. Rehab is the best place for him.
“I’ll make up something to tell the police.
I’ll pay the debt. As soon as they leave, I’m calling your mom to make sure you get on the earliest flight to California tomorrow.
And then I’m calling Jenna to make sure she meets you when you land.
If this isn’t rock fucking bottom man, I don’t know what is.
I’m not gonna bury you or forgive myself if I find you dead in a ditch somewhere.
You. Are. Going. To. Rehab. You have to try. ”
He wipes his face again, straightens his spine, and nods. It isn’t a lot, a glimpse of the man I once knew. But right now, it’s enough. It has to be.
“Okay. These are bad guys, though, Kai. They have deep ties with the O’Rourke’s. They might come looking for me even if I settle the debt,” he warns, his voice shaky.
“I’ll take care of it, Aiden. Let’s get you cleaned up maybe. When’s the last time you fucking showered?” I ask, crinkling my nose and trying to lighten the absurdity of this conversation with a little humor.
The police leave around 12:00 am. I told them Aiden was supposed to be staying with me for a few days but I forgot because my schedule was so hectic.
I also fabricate a story about the mess in the apartment.
They don’t seem convinced, but they also didn’t seem particularly inclined to fill out paperwork for me to press charges either.
After they leave, Aiden showers, changes into fresh clothes, and falls asleep on my couch open mouthed and snoring.
My first call is to his parents. I relay the situation to his mom and ask her to get here as soon as she can.
She is worried, on the verge of sobbing towards the end of the phone call, but promises they’d be here in the morning.
Then I get a hold of Jenna. She’s alarmed but not surprised.
She clears her schedule for the next two days and reassures me that her and Amir will pick Aiden up from his gate and get him checked in to rehab.
I’m relieved knowing Jenna will do whatever it takes to help him, to ensure he walks inside that building come hell or high water.
All we can do is get him there, the rest is up to him.
The next couple calls I make are to rehab centers and addiction treatment facilities up and down the west coast. Aiden needs immediate help and some distance from all the bullshit dragging him under in Boston.
I’m going to be hard pressed to find a place that’s going to take him on such short notice even with the kind of connections I have.
On a hope and a prayer, I contact the Betty Ford Center located in Rancho Mirage, California.
They have a spot for him.
***
Three days later, I’m sitting in a coffee shop with Kendall and giving her all the details about the situation with Aiden.
Details that I’ve been too exhausted and distraught to explain over the phone.
She sits in a chair across from me, picking at the lip of her iced coffee with lavender manicured nails, a nervous habit.
“So, you found him in your apartment trying to steal from you?” she whispers, leaning further into the table, her arms crossed on top of it.
“Yeah, he was looking for my Stanley Cup jersey to try and pawn it for money.” For thousands of dollars and it probably would have sold for that, never mind that it wouldn’t even have cleared his debt.
“Holy shit, Kai. That’s terrifying,” she comments, scanning my face. “But he’s okay now? He’s in rehab?”
“Yeah, Jenna said he was all checked in to a 90-day in-patient program. So, I think he’s in the best place he can be for now.” At least I want to believe he is.
“Okay but what about the money he owes and the people looking for it?” Right. Kendall isn’t stupid or blind. She’s put enough clues together to understand that whatever Aiden was involved with isn’t good.
“I told him I’d pay it and I did.” What I don’t say is I settled the debt and then some.
That I had secured a private carrier to deliver $80,000 in cash to low level workers and enforcers of the nefarious mob.
That I hired private security detail to ensure this carrier wasn’t harmed.
That I had dipped my toes in something I probably shouldn’t have but there’s no going back now.
I’ve waded into flames and I'm waiting to see whether I’d burn for it.
I know engaging in any sort of illicit activity is grounds for expulsion from the league, reason enough to terminate me, and an easy way to nullify my 2.
3 million dollar contract. I know this and I forged ahead anyway.
Because I have my own debt to settle, my own sins to atone for.
“Why, though, Kai? You paid for his rehab fees and you’re paying this debt. Why? I mean I know you were close with Aiden but this seems like a lot.”
I sigh because I knew this question was coming and I don’t know how to answer it, not completely.
“Because I’m the only person who can. Because I’m the only person close enough to him with the kind of means and capital to help him.
And I refuse to play a part in his death no matter how tangential it is.
You didn’t see him, Ken, he was in rough shape.
I couldn’t just kick him out or turn him in. ”
“So, you think that will be the end of it then?” she hedges. Do you think they’ll let this go? is what she’s asking but not saying.
“I think so,” I lie, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it gently.
“Everything is going to be fine.” Because I certainly can’t tell her the truth.
That I overplayed my hand in an attempt to right his wrongs.
I’d given them $30,000 more than he owes hoping it would buy us safety, protection, but now I’m not so sure.
I might have put a target on my back in an effort to save Aiden.
They had more reasons now than ever to come after me and my net worth.
But there’s also a part of me that feels partially responsible for Aiden’s condition, his steep fall from the person he had once been.
I hadn’t held a gun to his head while forcing him to take drugs.
And I hadn’t dragged him to casinos and racetracks and dark seedy corners of ramshackle buildings to make bets he couldn’t afford.
I hadn’t introduced him to the people he had unwittingly sold his soul to or been involved in the myriad of choices that led him to where he is now.
But I had encouraged him to gamble with me every once in a while.
And a long time ago when we were young and stupid, I had beaten him so violently that I ruined the rest of his high school athletic career.
I had destroyed any chance of him playing division one football or hockey.
I put the nail in that coffin and unintentionally ensured his future didn’t contain a multitude of paths.
Maybe if things had been different, Aiden’s life would look more like mine right now.
So, no, I’m not directly to blame for his downfall but I feel dread trickling down my spine and the weight of guilt impaling my chest. And it compelled me to help him however I could.
I couldn’t fix things then but maybe I could save him now.