Page 38 of Puck, Marry, Kill

This fight doesn’t involve them. Well, it does in a larger way, but they have enough sense to let Kipson and me do our dick-measuring without interference.

“That’s the bullshit I’m talking about,” I tell him. “The Hawks aren’t perfect by any means. We’d fight and give each other shit like it was our jobs. We even had a guy who helicoptered his dick in the locker room so many times we started calling him Chopper. But any one of those guys? I’d show up for them in a heartbeat and they’d do the same for me. I don’t get the sense that’s how the Blizzard operates.” I pause for a moment, giving him a chance to argue, but I’m right and we both know it. “But it could be.”

Taking a deep breath, I launch into my spiel, not just for Kipson but for everyone. “Look, player for player, I see y’all on the ice. This is the most skilled team, individually, that I’ve ever played on. I saw that last year, too, in the Cup Finals. But that’s the problem. You play as six individuals out there. We beat your ass because we played as ateam. A team needs a leader, a fucking captain. You’re the one with aCon your shoulder, Mike. So act like one.”

I’m basically throwing not only my hand on the table, but the whole fifty-two-card deck.

“Fuck you,” he snarls. He crosses his arms over his chest in classic defensive posturing.

I keep my attention locked on Kipson as I say, “Rodney, anybody on the team asked you shit about where you came from, what your experience is, if you got a place to stay, or anything else?”

He huffs out a mirthless laugh. “No. Well, you, but other than that, no.”

Kipson rolls his eyes.

“How about you, Tomville? Anybody but Coach know you were an enforcer that took out four players in a single game and were the reason your team won your conference championship and got them to the Frozen Four?”

“Nope,” he answers, shaking his head.

“Damn, kid,” Pacholek says, impressed. He holds a fist up and Tomville bumps it with a dawning grin.

“That right there is why I’m doing this,” I inform Kipson. “What happened to you sucks. So yeah,Captain, being thrown off your rocker is understandable. But it isn’t a singular issue. This whole team needs to learn how to be a fucking team.”

“And you think you’re gonna teach us?” he snaps.

“I don’t want to be captain,” I say preemptively, cutting that concern off at the knees. “But are you gonna do it? Be my guest,” I invite, throwing an arm wide. “Maybe it’d give you something to do other than cry into your pillow at night.”

“Fuck you.”

He says that every time I make a valid point that he can’t counter. Still, I’m right on the edge of going too far, but that’s where I need to go if I want Kipson to wake up to what’s happening around him.

“Do you want to know what Anderson told me that night at O’Neal’s?”

He presses his lips together, refusing to say yes.

“He was celebrating that your wife left you. His exact words were ‘thank fuck’ that she’s gone, and Sabine declared the Blizzard a ‘cleanhouse.’ Apparently, the team likes to keep things casual only. Anything else is a distraction. Sound familiar?”

It’s the first time Kipson doesn’t only hear me, but actually listens. Furious, he turns to Pacholek and demands, “Anderson and Sabine said that shit?”

“Uh—”

He squeezes his fork so hard, the plastic snaps in half between his fingers. “I’m gonna kill them.”

I nod, agreeing. “Good plan. In the meantime, we have a game tomorrow night and a whole damn season to play. It’d be cool if we could do it as an actual team that gives a shit about each other. What do you say?”

I hold my hand out. Kipson’s glare jumps from my eyes to my hand and back again. “Fuck you, Lee. I’m outta here.”

With that, he pushes back from the table and stomps to the door.

“That went well,” I say, deadpan.

“What the hell, man?” Pacholek gripes. “You trying to implode the whole damn team? Are you that pissed you got traded?”

Yes. But also, maybe no.

“Maybe it needs to implode,” I suggest. I lean his way, eyes hard. “So we can build it backbetter.”

He shakes his head, unconvinced. “I get that the Hawks won the Cup last year, but it’s not like we’re some bottom of the barrel team. We’re not just good, we’re great, and don’t need the Great Dominic Lee to fix us.”