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Tonight was just one more little fuck up, but it was over now.
He would start fighting right now.
He would.
There’s Been an Accident (15)
December 9
“Hustle, hustle…I got you, hey! I’m open, I’m open!”
TK banged his stick in frustration as his practice squad ran yet another passing drill that no one bothered to tell him he’d been excluded from. “The fuck?”
He skated over to the bench, where Hayes was snagging a quick sip of water while his squad was taking a break. “Is your squad completely ignoring you, man?”
Hayes swallowed, spit, and nodded. “A little. Thought it was in my head. Nah?”
“Nah, baby. Mine won’t fuckin’ pass me the puck. We ran like, four different drills and they keep shutting me out.”
Just then, Hughesy skated over to where they were, snowed them both, and tapped TK on the ass with his stick. “Eh: we’re not done. Get your ass back out there.”
“Why, so you guys can not pass me the puck?”
“Fuck off, TK. You’re lucky you’re even playing right now, both of you, after the shit you pulled last month.”
“How’d I get dragged into this shit?” Hayes asked, throwing his hands up.
“You wanna sit again?” Hughesy warned, leaning in close to him. “Because that can be arranged. I’m the only reason you two douchebags aren’t wasting away in Bridgeport right now.” He pointed at both of them. “The only reason.”
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with cap hit either,” TK mumbled, earning an eye roll from Hughesy.
“We’ve been on our best fuckin’ behavior, man,” Hayes added, adjusting his cup. “You know that.”
“Yeah, I do know that. And I also know that the other guys? They’re not as forgiving as I am. You both fucked this team for a solid month with your bullshit.”
“Well, if we’re gonna be in the lineup, I fail to see how shutting us out is going to unfuck the team,” TK argued. “Just saying.”
“It’s called making a statement. You’re gonna need to earn back the respect you lost. It’s earned, bitch. Not granted freely. Just saying.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?”
Hughesy shrugged, grabbing each of them by the sides of their helmets and clunking their heads together. “Figure it out. And let’s go, TK. Your backchecking is absolute trash,” he said, before turning and heading back over to where his squad was.
TK opened his mouth instinctively, letting Hayes squirt some water into it. “This isn’t even worth it anymore, man. Maybe we should just go back to…”
“Don’t talk like that,” Hayes interrupted, chopping him in the shin with his stick. “We’re doin’ so good. Now go, before he starts yellin’ again.”
The two of them had really made an effort to clean their act up after the night on the bridge and their conversation on the limo ride home. The term “clean up their act” was certainly relative; neither of them, as they’d discussed, were in any position to stop using, and neither of them was willing to go to rehab.
So, the two of them had spent about a week figuring out what combination of drugs they needed to ingest and at what times throughout the day in order to get and keep themselves feeling normal.
OK, so it wasn’t ideal, but it was a start, right?
And it had kinda…worked.
Travis Kadin was a goddamn drug wizard. He had provided Hayes’s technologically impaired ass with a spreadsheet and had set a series of alarms in his phone.
“Listen, baby,” he’d told him, as he went over everything with him. “You do not wanna OD, so you gotta make sure you follow it exactly to a T. Make sure you pay attention to the mg’s. Anything over 5? Don’t pop more than one, OK? And don’t substitute anything. That could throw the whole thing off. If you need a sub, call me first. I’ll hook you up. But don’t take anything without talking to me first.”
