CHAPTER 48 NICK VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED
NICK
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED
At first, everything was weirdly quiet.
Well, maybe it wasn’t that weird. The interview had only been shown on a major paper’s website. The effects were muffled for our hour and a half at the hospital before the nurses confirmed that Tallulah didn’t have a concussion.
When other publications picked it up though, more and more news articles and alerts appeared. Our phones were blowing up as we left the hospital. I ignored my calls. Most of them were my teammates anyway and I’d see my roommates when we got home.
It was a weird day, and I had a feeling that it’d be the start of a lot of weird days.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel.
Happy? Satisfied? Triumphant? No, it was more complicated than that.
I felt…overwhelmed. Tired and raw, like I’d walked a long time to get here.
And I couldn’t get over that fear in the pit of my stomach.
When Tallulah fell, it was worse than anything Tomasini did to me.
I was on edge. Whatever my teammates had to say about this, I wasn’t interested in a big discussion.
“Do you want to go on a hike tomorrow?” Tallulah asked, her voice soft as I parked the car on our street. “Turn off our phones and take our books?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, my shoulders tense. “Yeah, that sounds good.” I paused. “What about your parents?”
“I can get a couple of hours from them. They want to sight-see, it’s okay.”
I closed the car door behind me. “What’d they say about the interview?”
“Um…” Tallulah chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t think they believe me. About the interview. Or they didn’t think it was a big deal or whatever.”
I stopped her at the door. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it hasn’t hit them yet?”
Doubt flickered behind her eyes, I didn’t know what to say. Tallulah was disappointed and trying to hide it. She thought her parents would’ve been more excited for her. Or at least acknowledged this big thing she was undertaking.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come to lunch today?” she asked softly.
“No,” I said instantly and hesitated, pushing open the front door. The tension between her parents and me wasn’t fair to Tallulah. She hadn’t seen her parents in months, and it wouldn’t be a happy reunion if I kept ruining it. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. But you have fun—”
“What were you thinking?” Gordo thundered. I watched in surprise as he leaped from the living room, lumbering over to sweep Tallulah up in a big hug.
“Woah, woah, woah—” I grabbed him. “Dude, we just got out of the hospital—”
More and more of my teammates crowded us. I was waiting for the confrontation, but everybody had huge smiles on their faces. Which was…confusing.
“Coaches canceled practice,” Krull told me.
I frowned. “Why?”
“Why do you think?” Gordo raised his eyebrows. “Want to take a guess?”
Holy shit—our coaches knew Tomasini had been exposed and were scrambling to act on it. This was bigger than I thought. I took out my phone, lit up with text messages and muted phone calls, and searched Tomasini’s name. News articles flooded the screen, new ones popping up every few seconds.
“No way,” I muttered, glancing up at my teammates. “What—uh—happens now?”
“You fucking tell us, you’re the two spearheading this,” Gordo chortled.
“I—I don’t know,” Tallulah admitted. “I have no idea.”
There was a knock on the door—probably Tallulah’s parents to pick her up for lunch. Damn, I didn’t want to say goodbye, especially after the interview, but I didn’t want Tallulah to feel like she had to choose between us. That was unfair.
With a sigh, I pulled open the door to see…Drew? And his wife, Kacey?
His wife nudged him forward, like a teacher trying to convince a kid to present for the class. Except my teammate was forty-three years old, and he used to play professionally for the Toronto Tigers, one of the biggest teams on the continent. Why did he look so embarrassed?
“Hi,” he said, eyes on the floor.
“Drew?” I replied, because I didn’t know what to say. The entry was full of my teammates, everyone at a standstill to figure out why Drew had arrived. He had four kids, he barely hung out with us.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you,” he managed.
“What’s up?”
“No, not you, Kurosawa.” He tipped his chin to Tallulah, still uncomfortable. “Tallulah.”
She blinked. “Me?”
“Are you done writing the Tomasini piece or whatever?”
“I’m not writing it,” she admitted. “I just did the interview. Because it’s such a high-up piece, the Chronicle took over. It’s out of my hands.”
“Got it.” He moved to leave. “I tried.”
“No, no.” Kacey stopped him. She gave him an expectant look. “Andrew.”
Drew mumbled something, pulling a blue flash drive from his pocket. He held it out to Tallulah in a jerky movement, like he didn’t know how to use his arm. “I have the security footage. Of when Tomasini punched me in the back of the head.”
That got everybody’s attention. We swarmed the door, everyone craning for a look at the flash drive.
Tallulah took it, her eyes wide. “How’d you get it?”
“I asked Leslie. You know, the girl who runs the desk at the Everett Center?” He cleared his throat. “She said she could get the video for me if you used hers too. Tomasini dragged her over her desk by her ponytail.”
Tallulah gulped. “Oh my god.”
“The plank video’s on there too,” Drew said, an obvious glance my way. “I talked to Captain about it, he’s going to call everybody today, to…you know…get everybody’s permission.”
I had no idea what to say. I was weirdly touched. I couldn’t believe the guys would do this for me.
“Fuck,” Gordo muttered. He heaved a sigh. “I bet Leslie could get one of my videos with Tomasini.”
“I’m sure there’s one of Tomasini yelling at me,” Blond muttered.
More and more of my teammates agreed, everybody grabbing their jackets to head to the Everett Center, while I stared without words.
The Toronto Chronicle gave Tallulah an official time—nine o’clock the following morning. That was when the CAN Daily News Station would air the breaking news story on Tomasini.
I was upfront with the guys about it. Some of them chose to sleep on the couch after partying, but for the early news story, Tallulah and I would be up early, taking over the living room.
It wasn’t an invitation.
Yet the following morning, all of the Blades showed up. Not just my roommates. I watched the door as more and more of the Blades filed through. Some with their wives, some with their children.
“Hey, kid.” Serge patted my back, moving in. Gordo was over a griddle in the kitchen, flipping pancakes as fast as he could. Serge grabbed a plate off the stack, nodding to me. “Practice is canceled tomorrow too.”
“Did they say why?”
“No.” He lifted a shoulder. “What the hell could they say? We don’t have playoffs anyway and nobody has any idea what to do about this. Nobody knows what’s going to happen.”
My phone was a fucking mess. I was being bombarded by journalists, important figures.
I’d even received notice from the Olympics and the official Canadian hockey league.
Everybody wanted to hear my thoughts on Tomasini.
Tallulah handled that for me, mostly with short, clear-cut statements.
She didn’t want my mouth to get me in trouble, and I was really fucking grateful she stepped in.
I leaned out of the kitchen, catching sight of Tallulah on the recliner. She was chatting with a couple of my teammates. Her long dark hair pulled back in a golden headband, Rat relaxing on her shoulder, nudging her cheek for attention.
We had plans after this. My backpack was already packed upstairs with my blanket and our lunches sat in the fridge. We were going on a hike and zoning out away from the rest of the world.
I couldn’t wait.
“Boys!” Tallulah called. “It’s on!”
I returned to the living room, placing Rat on the recliner’s arm. She meowed in indignation—how could I possibly move her from a comfy spot?—and I ignored her, picking up Tallulah to slide underneath her, pulling her to my lap.
Tallulah made an adorable squeaking sound in surprise, and I wrapped my arms around her waist.
“Are you okay?” she whispered, careful to keep her voice low.
“I am now,” I murmured back, resting my chin on her shoulder.
A newscaster took to the screen, a startled look on her face.
“Bombshell allegations have been raised against Joseph Tomasini, beloved Canadian hockey icon, popularly known as the Demolition Man.” The living room quieted, everyone leaning forward, watching with rapt attention.
“The Toronto Chronicle released an explosive interview yesterday morning, and we here at the CAN Daily News can confirm with exclusive security footage of Tomasini. Warning, viewer discretion is advised…”
The blurry, muted footage took over. I recognized the hallway outside of the locker room. Tomasini and Drew were having an argument, and Drew’s face was blurred. Drew threw up his hands in exasperation and moved to leave. Tomasini’s fist was so fast, the breath caught in my throat.
“Oh, fuck,” Serge mumbled.
There was Tomasini dragging Leslie over the desk.
A few seconds of the plank video flashed across the screen, Tomasini dropping books on my back.
There was another video from a training facility, of Tomasini shouting at someone and slamming a hand against the wall, so close to their head.
I didn’t recognize them, but I knew that had to be an Olympian from their gear.
“The Toronto Chronicle is asking for people to come forward. Alleged victims are urged to email the Chronicle with details,” the newscaster said, a number sliding across the bottom of the screen.
“Both the Olympics and Canada’s official hockey league have announced forthcoming statements about Tomasini’s involvement in their organizations.
Statements are expected at five o’clock tonight. ”
Another newscaster turned to speak, blinking in bewilderment. “The jaw-dropping interview was conducted by…an American-Indigenous student.”
“Oh my god.” Tallulah tried to stand. “I can’t watch—”
I snagged her back, stopping her from leaving. “You’re not going anywhere.”