Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
JULIAN
“What the fuck was that? Huh?” Murry shouted, pacing the floor.
“Can any of you explain to me what the hell happened? Seven turnovers. Seven in the last six minutes of the game. What the fuck? We are here to win. Not get our fucking asses served to us by the worst team in the league.” Murry surveyed the room.
“Anders. You hit the post four times. Four. Walker, who the hell were you passing to in the third period? King, you have got to keep the fucking puck in the o-zone. And Silver.”
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to lay out everything I’d done wrong. The five missed shots, the four minutes for stupid penalties, and the icing that cost us the game. The din of the locker room died down. I glanced up to see the team and Murry looking at me. “Yeah?”
“My office, now.”
“Can I shower?”
“No.” Murry turned and headed down the hall. Anders caught my eye, and I could read the worry.
“I’m sure he wants to congratulate me on a great game,” I joked. Murry’s office sat beyond the locker room, the hallway’s carpeting and artwork muffling the sounds of my teammates. “What did you want?”
“Sit. And close the door.” Murry nodded to the chair.
“I’ll stand.” Sitting hurt too much. My hip had started to bother me. Last season it had been my knee. The season before that, my shoulder. I was running out of joints.
“Why, Julian?” Murry paced the small space behind his desk. On the wall behind him were photos of players and past championships. My photo with the GM in front of the Welcome to Las Vegas sign was front and center. Two showgirls on either side. I was the golden hope to bring home the silver.
Murry ran a hand over his face. “McGrath wants to scratch you.”
“What the fuck for? We’re only three games in.” They hadn’t been my best games, but there were other teams that were struggling.
“Four,” Murry said, breathing out. “McGrath is worried that we are going to have a repeat of last year.”
“And you think the same?” I was here because of Murry. This was the second team I played under him. He was a good coach and treated his players well. Murry promised Vegas was a good franchise and they would give me a cup. That was two and a half years ago.
“I’m not sure I have a choice.” He flopped down in his chair, groaning.
“This isn’t like you. Your head hasn’t been in the game.
” Murry raised his eyes to me. I could see the doubt written across his face.
“I’m worried about you. You’ve never let your personal life get in the way like this.
Hell, you’ve never let anything get in the way of your game.
You said you had it under control. You promised everything was fine. ”
“It is. I’m fine.” I didn’t believe those words, but if I said them enough, maybe they’d come true.
Murry searched my face, looking for the lie. “Then why don’t I believe you? You haven’t had a shot on goal since February. You’ve had one stupid penalty after another, including the two tonight. You can’t let them get to you, Julian. If you can’t get your shit together, I’m going to—”
“I’m fine.” I cut him off, knowing where this was going.
I didn’t need therapy or time off. I needed to play this game and forget last season had ever happened.
“Don’t let them do this. Please. I just…
” I turned away from the stupid photos, a reminder of all the hopes this city, this franchise, had placed on me.
“You what?” Murry asked.
“I’ll do better next game. I’ll train harder, I promise.
Please don’t let them scratch me.” A healthy scratch for a player my age was the first warning.
The team would say it was for a couple games to “let me rest,” but those two games would turn into ten games, then a season.
My career would die on the floor of the press box.
“I’ll see what I can do, but Julian, you have to do something. Show McGrath and the rest of the franchise that this isn’t going to be a season repeat. I’ll give you a month. After that I’m going to recommend you get some help. Go shower.” Murry nodded at the door.
“What did he say?” Anders was waiting by the lockers.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I pulled off my base layer.
“Well, I do. So talk to me.”
“McGrath wants to scratch me.” The reality of what could happen was sinking in fast.
“Fuck.” Anders sat down on the bench. “What are you going to do?”
I didn’t even know how to put into words what would fix this. “I don’t know. But I have a month to figure it out.”
Anders tossed a roll of tape into his bag. “Maybe you should talk to someone.”
“No. That will give them another reason to…” I sat down, the pain in my hip radiating down my thigh, into my knee and ankle.
Admitting you needed help in the NHL was a tough thing.
The team had to give you the time to fix your wrongs.
But they didn’t have to save your place on the team.
They could use it as a reason to send you down to the minors, freeing up cap space, or simply leave you in limbo, waiting for them to call.
“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out,” I said, unwinding the tape around my shin guard.
“Jules, this is serious.”
“No shit, Andy.” I tossed the ball of tape on the floor. I had been bumped from the first line to the third. My ice time had gone from twenty minutes a game to ten. Murry didn’t ask me to do the press or intermission interviews. I knew this was coming, but it was easier to hope it wouldn’t.
“I have an idea. But you got to keep an open mind.”
“Alright.” I unlaced my skates.
“Sex,” Anders said matter-of-factly.
“Sex?”
“Yeah. When’s the last time you got laid, man? I mean, like, really fucked someone. To the point the neighbors are wondering if they should call the cops or give you a standing ovation.”
“Are you fucking serious right now? My career is on the line, and you think I need to get laid? Christ, Anders, that’s dumb even for you.
Sex isn’t going to fix me.” If it were that easy, I’d pay someone.
More than anything, I wanted my game back.
I wanted to wake up without this weight pressing down on me.
I wanted things to be back to normal. To be Julian Silver, winger for the Las Vegas Desert Coyotes.
“No, I’ve had dumber ideas. Remember that night in Minnesota?” He smiled. “Think about it. You’re letting that fucking bitch get in your head. She’s out fucking half of LA. And what are you doing? Proving she was right?”
“Proving her right? How? By not fucking half of Las Vegas?” I pulled off my skates.
“By not fucking anyone,” Anders said.
“I’m not getting into a relationship just to prove to the world that… I’m not…” A fuck-up. Washed-up. All the other things she had said that night.
“Who said anything about a relationship?” Anders stood, stripping down to his compression shorts. “I’m talking about sex. No strings attached, mind-blowing sex.”
“And what is that going to prove?” My cock wasn’t causing any issues.
“That she was wrong. Prove it to yourself she was wrong.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Then with who?” Anders asked. “Julian, I’m worried.”
“About my sex life? Christ, get a fucking hobby.”
“No, about your career. If they scratch you, what’s to stop them from never playing you again, or worse, sending you to the minors?”
“I’ll retire before that happens.” I sat up, trying to stretch the ache from my back.
“You’ll retire but you won’t try this? What is it going to hurt?” Anders finished undressing and wrapped a towel around his waist. “It might do something for your shitty attitude too.”
“Maybe if I had better friends, I wouldn’t have a shitty attitude.”
“Okay. I give up. Throw your career away.” Anders scoffed. “Let me know how retirement goes for you, old man.”
“Andy, please.” I exhaled. This game was all I had.
“I’m sorry. But you can’t honestly think sex is going to solve everything?
Where am I going to find the time for a girlfriend?
” Plus, I was bad at relationships. My marriage to Emily proved that.
There were some days I didn’t want to be around myself.
How could I expect someone else to put up with me?
Not to mention the eighty-two game schedule, practices, PT, and everything it took to be Julian Silver, number thirty-five.
There weren’t enough hours in the day to be everything everyone needed me to be.
“Not a girlfriend, an escort.”
“Seriously? I’m sure the podcast will love that. Julian Silver has to pay for sex.”
“No one will know. She’s a professional.”
“She? As in, you know one? Does Teigen know?”
“No, and it’s not like that. She’s a friend of the family. Kind of.”
“I know your family.” I stifled a groan as I stepped over the bench. “And no. I’m not going to pay for sex. I got enough to deal with.”
“Jules, you gotta do something. Our season is tanking.”
“Sex isn’t going to help, so drop it. Okay? I’ll figure it out.” I had been since I was thirteen.
* * *
“Listen, Matt, I hear what you’re saying, but Silver is too old to be playing this game. He is not his father. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if his dad didn’t demand Julian change his last name. He had two stupid turnovers tonight. He’s too old. Time for him to retire.”
“Tom, you’re putting this all on the shoulders of one player. Silver is not the goalie. He’s one right wing, and the rest of the team was just as bad. The defense couldn’t keep the puck in play if it was glued to their stick. The entire team looks like shit. You can’t put this all on Silver.”
“I can. Admit it, Matt, he’s too old. There are younger, better players out there that are chomping to prove themselves. And yet Vegas is stuck with the dead weight of Silver’s contract. I say cut him. I think Payton Hulton is…”
I turned off the BlueLine podcast as I pulled into the garage. My phone buzzed again. It was my father. Maybe Tom West was right and my father would demand I change my last name. I was tarnishing the Silver name he had worked so hard to make a household name in the hockey world.
Tonight’s game was bad, and I didn’t know why. I trained harder than last year. Dropped seven pounds and added five miles to my daily seven-mile run. I lifted every day and worked with a trainer every other day. My game should be better. And yet everything felt like it was spinning out of control.
I didn’t want to believe that Anders was right. That all those things Emily had said somehow wormed their way into my head. I was Julian Silver, the highest scoring player in the league two years in a row.
The son of the great Quinton Silver. I was hockey.
And then one night changed everything.