Page 6 of He Has Trouble (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 3
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tim’s words rushed at me like a bucket of ice, too close, and snapped me around.
“Tim—” Angela pulled away as if she felt guilty. That hurt more than the clumsy punch to my jaw that came next.
Stepping away from Angela after the blow from Tim, which wasn’t easy to do and not only because she was clutching my jacket and asking me, begging me not to. Because she knew I had a knack for fighting. I relished it, really. Didn’t even mind getting beaten up on rare occasions. I yanked myself away from her good sense and moved around Tim, keeping my arms up and my eyes on him until we were out in the driveway.
“You have no business being here, Brady. Go home. Go back to your team. Oh wait—that’s right. They don’t want you anymore either.” Tim was loud and belligerent and stupid. But his words hit all the right marks on my bruised soul.
In spite of the back door opening and closing and the sounds of the stunned audience gathering behind me, I didn’t back down.
“Brady, don’t. He’s drunk.” Angela’s was the only voice I heard, the only one I listened to. I put my hands down.
“Go home, Tim,” I said.
The stupid man came at me. “Yougo home. You don’t belong here!” Tim swung and I easily moved out of range of the slow punch. Then Tim tried kicking and caught my knee. I’d moved, but not far enough. A pain shot through my right knee, but I shook it off, swearing a string of curses under my breath to the pagan gods that it had better not be injured.
“You shit-head.” I backed away another step, leading Tim down the driveway. He laughed and then lunged forward.
“You can’t make it. You’ll never make it. And you’ll never have Angela.” Tim swung and missed again, but he was getting closer, his fury building. He sneered and said, “That bitch is mine.”
Red rage filled my vision at the disrespectful words. My insides went cold. I stopped moving backwards and fisted my hands.
“What did you call her?”
“Brady, no—” I heard Angela in the distance, singled out her voice from among all the other noise and all the other people. But this time I didn’t listen.
“You heard me. She’s mybitch.”
As Tim moved toward me, I snapped my left hand forward in a quick jab, hitting him so hard, square in the nose, that in spite of his forward momentum he stopped short, then staggered back. Blood spurted everywhere as I caught Tim before he fell and spun him away toward the street.
The crowd of people in the driveway came into focus as I looked around, holding my left hand in my right and feeling it start to throb and swell. Fuck. I’d used my left hand purposely to save my right, but I shouldn’t have hit the bastard so hard. Testing my knee I took a step as Angela came to my side. There was a twinge, but nothing serious. Ice and two days rest—the two days I had to spend here—would cure it.
Mrs. Rizzo was right behind her daughter, giving me a wan smile with her arms open.
“Welcome home,” she said. Then she clutched me in her usual motherly embrace, making me remember what I’d missed, making me shake with the crumbling of defenses around my soul.
“Merry Christmas,” I said, hugging her back. My words were only partially ironic and I knew my second mother would get it. She let me go. Mr. Rizzo and Eddie went to Tim as he held his nose. Eddie pulled Tim’s head back by the hair.
“You’re supposed to keep your head up and back when you have a bloody nose, dimwit.”
“You’ve had too much to drink,” Mr. Rizzo said. “I’m calling you a cab.”
“You should call an ambulance.” Tim pointed at me. “You’ll be sorry you did this, hot shot. I’ll get you in so much trouble no one in the NHL will want you.” He took out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Rizzo said.
“Calling the cops.” Tim stared at me. The cold in my gut froze. This idiot could get me into deep fucking trouble, a world of trouble worse than I was already in. I couldn’t afford another scrape with the police. Especially not now while I was on suspension. The league would put me on probation. That would put my entire fucking career at risk.
I didn’t want to think what would happen to me if I managed to derail my career. The one thing I had going for me. Up until now. I thought of my old man, broken and alone and I sucked in my pride.
“What’ll it be worth to you to put your phone away?” I knew from experience that money talked.
Angela gasped and lunged forward, as quick as ever. “No way.” She tore the phone from Tim’s hand. “You’re not calling anyone. You took the first shot and I’ll swear to my grave that Brady was protecting me from you if you so much as think of telling anyone anything different.”
“You wouldn’t lie for him.”
“Look, no one has to get in trouble here,” I said.
