Delayed Penalty (11 page)

Ami was living it.

Crashing the net – Players head with full steam to the front of the net into the goalie's space and into the goal. It can also be known as crashing the crease.

We had Friday off before we headed to Ohio to play the Blue Jackets again. That gave me a whole night to spend with Ami. I was avoiding my team; Leo kept calling, and my parents were asking all sorts of questions. It didn't matter. I seemed to have only one focus.

She was in her room again having just got back from another scan, her spirits the same as they were a few nights ago. Every time I walked into that room, her pretty, starry eyes lit up the same way, and it gave me a stabbing sensation in my heart every fucking time. It didn't matter how long I was away, five minutes, five hours, five days, she acted as if I was the person she was waiting on to return, and when I did, everything about her lit up.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" she asked, as if she even had to ask. Earlier she had asked why I came back. I'd said to be with her. We were friends after all. She liked that and teased that I'd be trying to lie in bed with her next. Ami liked to tease, and fuck if I didn't give it right back.

"I bet you I can fit in that bed with you," I said, teasing, putting a movie into the DVD player in her room. The lighting was low so I bumped my thigh into the bed when I moved around it to take a seat next to her. She laughed.

"Oh, I don't think so." Ami tried to mess with me and sprawled out in the bed, as if she could actually fill it. She was tiny. I wasn't sure how tall she was, but she looked no bigger than a little over five feet. "It's kind of small."

Challenge accepted. I stood, she smiled looking up at me, her lashes longer than ever. I thought she was going to say something, but she didn't.

I took her hands, moved one around my shoulder, and then situated her legs over mine so we could both fit in her bed. The touch was casual but intensely intimate at the same time. Our breathing told me so. I'd never felt a sensation quite like when her hand came to rest on my stomach. Her giggles filled the room, but then her hand slipped when she squirmed in my lap and went lower, just above the waistband of my jeans. Instant hard-on.

She felt it, too. There was no denying it. I tried to play it off, as did Ami, but the red in her cheeks told me she knew. "Okay, point taken." I was about to move when she grabbed my hand and forced me to stay there. "Two can fit in the bed."

Clearing my throat, my brow furrowed slightly, trying to decipher if she wanted me to move or not when she relaxed against me, her head on my shoulder. "Thank you, Evan. I really mean that, too. You're a pretty cool guy to keep coming back and checking on me. I know you've probably got shit to do."

"You gotta stop thanking me, Ami. I did it because it's what anyone would have done given the chance. And yeah, friends check on friends."

"Clearly not everyone would do the right thing, Evan," she said, motioning to the bandage on her head, "but I wasn't referring to saving me. I was referring to this…being with me in here…making me laugh."

"No problem." My eyes shifted to the table beside her bed, looking for the remote when I saw Detective Paulsen's business card there. "Was he here today?"

Ami looked at the card and then at me. "Yeah, he was asking questions about what I remember. I wish I could remember more, but I think it's probably a good thing. Looks like I got the crap beaten out of me." Another eye roll as if it annoyed her. "I hope I at least gave the guy a black eye or something."

"Still no memory?"

"Nope. The last thing I remember about the night was leaving the dance studio and then walking past Redfish. I don't even know where I was going. I had been staying with my dance instructor and his wife. I assumed maybe I was going to catch a cab. I don't know. I remember something he said to me."

"What?"

"He said, '
You want it, don't you? I bet you like it rough
.'" Ami looked at me and took a deep breath. "I can see his eyes sometimes…they were dark, almost black."

My fucking gut was in knots as I pictured the guys standing outside Redfish that night, wondering which one of those assholes was the guy. I wanted to go back to that night and kick the shit out of all of them for either doing it, or standing by while such a brutal attack took place.

"Did the doctors tell you what all happened?"

"Yeah." Her voice was filled with sadness. "They said I'd been raped and had a nasty head injury. Believe me, the headaches told me so."

I could feel the blood rising to my face, anger taking over, but I didn't want to scare her. Any time I thought of that night, it still pissed me off.

Her expression changed, and I could see the anger and confusion.

"God, I'm sorry, Ami. I didn't mean to bring it up."

"No big deal. Let's watch a movie." I learned quickly she was getting good at distractions.

This time I pushed play on the movie and settled in beside her. My arms crossed over my chest and Ami leaned into me.

"You're different than I thought you would be," I said, moving my arm around her again for more comfort.
Bullshit.
"For what's happened to you, you're different."

"I have to be. I don't want to think about it because I'll think about all the problems in the world. The big ugly problems. The ones that end careers and take families or take a girl's innocence when she's trying to move on."

"You put up a good front." I gave her a smile.

"It's not a front, Evan. It's the way I am. The fears are there, but it's not worth it to me to dwell on it. I have wants. I wanted to be a dancer. I still do. I wanted to see my brother play in the majors. I'll never see that. I wanted my mom to get that big landscaping bid she was working on when she left with Andrew. I'll never see that either. I wanted my dad to have the satisfaction of knowing Andrew and I were the way we were because of him. That I can do because he's still watching me. I have a chance now."

Slashing – A minor penalty. This occurs when a player swings his stick hard at an opponent, whether or not contact is made – if injury is caused, it becomes a major penalty and a game misconduct.

Game 50 – Ottawa Senators

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

My schedule didn't permit me to stay with Ami every day and unfortunately wouldn't for a while. We were heading into a six game road trip, and fuck if I was irritable about that. Up until now, I loved road trips and having games every night. Now, they took me away from Ami and that sucked.

That game with the Senators wasn't for us either. Maybe it was me, but it was the whole team. We were constantly fucking up. Nobody was focused and goddamn it if Coach wasn't livid.

We were doing stupid shit.

Leo pummeled Terry, a new kid up from the minors to fill in for Jake Sedin who was out with a shoulder injury.

"Christ Almighty, this is awful," Leo said, holding a towel to his face as we scooted down the bench, all of us with battle scars. "Just fucking kill me now."

I laughed, scooting over more. "Looks like Tanner wants to."

It was only a two hundred by eighty space, and it was one chip shot after another and fast aggressive play by both teams. Only problem was we were taking it out our own team, too.

Shelby and Ryan both ran into Terry four fucking times, and we were all on the same team. The thing was none of us were playing well, and Terry wasn't helping. He was constantly off-sides and didn't seem to get the concept of a shift. One of us would have to go out there and physically bring him back or he just skated around. He probably wasn't that bad, but he seemed that way to us.

Later, we turned our focus onto Liam Tanner, the rookie left wing from the Senators.

Chirping, or beaking as some called it, was generally meant to get under the opposing team's skin. You'd say just about anything to offend them from skill level to playing style or even getting personal. It was a way of spinning the game by intimidation if needed.

Hockey was a game of intimidation, and most of the time, when you saw the players' faces, that was exactly what they were doing, intimidating the other guy, only more explicit with descriptive language.

They used wives and girlfriends to their advantage, too, Remy especially. Nearly everything that came out of Leo or Remy on the ice had me laughing, but I didn't like to bring family into it. To me that was drawing the line. That was when I got pissed.

Liam tried to get personal with me. He asked about my younger sister, said he fucked her, and I nailed him. Like I said, family was drawing the line. I sat the rest of the game in the penalty box and got slapped not only with a fighting penalty but intent to injure, roughing, slashing, and high sticking, all in the same play.

Game 54 – San Jose Sharks

Thursday, January 28, 2010

By the time we were in San Jose, Leo and I were still fucking with Terry. His coordination wasn't improving, and I had a distinct feeling the kid would be back in the minors before we got home. It didn't stop us from fucking with him. When you were on the road for six games straight, you got your fun where you could.

"Hey, man," I skated by, tapping my stick against his head. He turned and looked around, his wide eyes still glossy from last night when we got him drunk. "Where's your stick? You need that, bud." His stick was on the ice again, and he stumbled trying to stop it from sliding.

I took mine between my legs and stroked it once. Swinging up the left side of the rink, a few of the Sharks' fans were standing near the glass smiling at us. I gave a tip of my head to the girls when they started screaming while I stroked my stick. They may not have liked our team, but they liked that shit. To add to the fire, I moved my stick and thrust it once or twice.

I heard a chuckle from behind and Leo's heavy breathing as he caught up to us. He came by, and then skated backward, winking at Terry, and dropped to his knees as if he was taking my stick in his mouth. We were inappropriate like that.

"Orting, Mase! Knock that shit off!" Coach screamed at us, the veins in his neck popping out again. "What the fuck is wrong with those two?" he asked, mostly to himself. Our trainer was laughing beside him.

Leo and I skated away from him, laughing as well. Sure enough, when we got back to Chicago, Terry was gone.

After that road trip, I was feeling it. Not only was I missing Ami, but fuck if I wasn't tired. I'd been beaten to shit these last few games, and that night against the Sharks did a number on me.

We got home early Sunday morning, and I crashed as soon as my head hit my pillow. I didn't wake up until noon Monday morning.

First thing I did, well, besides eat? I headed to the hospital to see Ami.

When I walked in, she did a double take, and I realized what I must have looked like. I looked like hell. My face was still swollen after Matzy and I had gone at it a week ago, and now there were ten stitches right above my eye from Thursday's game against the Sharks.

Wearing a hat didn't shield it as much as I hoped it would. Ami noticed right away.

"Whoa, big guy, what happened to your face?" Ami asked, fighting the medications the nurse had just given her. I could tell my visit would be short tonight, but she did seem to perk up when she noticed I had food with me.

My hand instinctively moved to touch the purplish bruise I was sure was forming. "Oh, I got in a fight."

"Wow, how's the other guy doing?"

I laughed, taking out the Shi Zhi Chicken I got on the way over here. Ami eyed the box and gave a half smile. "You want some of this, don't you?" I teased, holding the fork out.

Ami leaned forward, scanned the door, and then took the bite.

I never wanted to be a fork more in my life than I did right then.

"Good, eh?" I gave a nod.

Her cheeks turned the cute pink color I loved so much. She smiled, chewing slowly. "You have no idea. This food in here is shit."

She lay back against the bed; her hands folded over her lap. I watched her and then handed her the rest of the take out box. "Here, enjoy."