Dedication
To my family who accepts me and all my foibles and quirks. Even the plastic banana in my holster.
VL Locey
Always for my family
RJ Scott
What’snextfortheLAStorm? HockeySeries’fromRJScott&V.L.Locey
HarrisburgRailers
OwatonnaU,CollegeHockey
ArizonaRaptors
BostonRebels
LAStorm
ChesterfordCoyotes,YoungAdultRomance
AlsoByRJScott
MeetRJScott
AlsoByVLLocey MeetVL Locey
Second 1 Michael 2 Bryce 3. Michael 4 Bryce 5 Michael 6 Bryce 7 Michael 8 Bryce 9. Michael 10. Bryce 11 Michael 12 Bryce 13 Michael 14 Bryce 15 Michael 16. Bryce 17 Michael 18 Bryce 19 Michael 20 Bryce 21 Michael Epilogue
Contents Blurb
Chapter 1
“CARD,”I DEMANDED AND SCHOOLED MY FEATURES WHEN THE KING OF DIAMONDS TURNED UP. I HAD A STRAIGHT FLUSH, AND IT was perfect thekindofdreamhandinpoker thatcomes onceinalifetime Myheartracedas Ipeekedatmycards,barely containingmyexcitement.Theoddswereinmyfavor.Itwasasurething,acertainty,andblindedbythepromiseofwinning,I didtheunthinkable.Ipushedallmychipstothecenterofthetable.Everything.Itwasaboldmove,astatement.Iwasallin. This was mymoment, mychance to erase all mypastmistakes, to come outontop, to prove to everyone, especiallyto my brother,thatIwasmorethanjustacautionarytale.
Theroomfellsilentastheotherplayerscontemplatedtheirnextmoves Onebyone,theyfolded,untilitwasonlymeand one other a newcomer witha poker face thatgave nothingaway. The final card was dealt, and Iheld mybreath, readyto claimmyvictory
Butfate, as Ihad learned the hard way, is oftencruel. Ina twistthatseemed ripped froma movie script, the newcomer revealedhishand.Itwastheonlyonethatcouldbeatmine,astatisticalimprobability,aonce-in-a-lifetimecountertomyoncein-a-lifetimehand Aroyalflush
“Read’emandweep,Freckles,”myopponentcackled.
Therealizationslammedintomelikeaphysicalblow I’dlost
Losteverything.Theroomspun,andthesoundsaroundmefadedtoadullroar.Icouldn’tbreathe,couldn'tthink.Thechips, mylifeline,mytickettopayingmywayoutofdebt,werenowslidingacrossthetable,awayfromme.
The weight of what I had done crashed down on me with brutal force. I’d gambled everything on a single hand, and everythingwas over. Payingoffthe debts, the promises ofturningthings around, the fleetingglimpse ofa better future all gonewiththeturnofacard mybrieftasteofsuccesswasashinmymouth Thedebtswerestill there,loominglarger than ever, and now, I had nothingleft to paythemwith. Mycar, mylast asset, was as good as gone, promised to Looper for a fractionofitsworth I’dbeensoclosetoclawingmywayoutandkeepingmybaby,onlytoplungedeeperintotheabyss
“I’llbeback,”Isaidwithconfidence,butnoonemetmyeyes.
ImademywaythroughthesmokybackroomtowhereLooperstood,overseeinghisdomain.Thenoiseofthepokergame fadedbehindmeasIapproachedthemanwhoheldmyfateinhishands.Looper,theenigmaticfigurewhoranthesehigh-stakes games,wasmorethanjustaloanshark;hewasakingpininthisunderworld,andhe’dcalledmehisfriendforthelongesttime.
“Hey, Looper, buddy,” I started, my voice brimming with the confidence of a man who’d had a win tonight before the losses.“Ineedmoremoney.”
He glanced up fromhis notebook, his expressionunreadable, thenflipped throughwornpages withdeliberate slowness, stoppingatapagewithmynameetchedatthetop.Hisfingertracedthefiguresnexttoit,adamningledgerofmydebt.“You’re inforsixtyplusalready,Michael,”hesaid,hisvoicedevoidofemotion,buthiseyeswerebrightwithexcitement.
Iswallowed hard;the euphoria ofanywinImight have had tonight weighed downbythe cold realityofhis words “I know,Iknow,”Irushed,“butyou'veseenmeoutthere.I'monastreak.”
TheairintheroomgrewheavyasLooper’seyesboredintome,asilentthreatlurkingintheirdepths Hiscalmdemeanor beliedthedangerherepresented,afaçadeofcivilitywithhisexpensivesuitsandbusinessmanvibes,maskingtheruthlessness ofamanwhoruledwhatevershadowyworldhehadgoingonhere ItusedtobeIcouldplayoutintheopen,orlaymybetsin fullviewofanyone,butnow…well,thiswasallIhad.Shadowsanddeals.
“You'reskatingonthinice,Michael,”hesaid,thenchuckledathisjoke.“SeewhatIdidthere,Mr.HockeyHero?”
Istoodmyground,tryingforconfidence,butinside,fearbegantospikeatwhatIwasdoing Looper’sreputationwaswellknown;hewasnotamantobecrossed.Hiswords,thoughmeasured,carriedanundercurrentofmenace.
“Sure,funny Igetit”Ipaused “TwentyKwillcovermefornow”
Heraisedaneyebrow.“I'vebeenpatient,butmypatiencehaslimits,andI’mcuttingyouoffwhenIhavedebtsagainstyour namealready”
Asifoncue,oneofhisgoons,theonewiththeaccent Kurgan,Irecalled amountainofamanwithafacelikegranite, tooka deliberate step forward. The message was clear: this wasn’tjusta friendlywarning. Looper didn’tneed to raise his
Michael
voiceormakeexplicitthreats;hispowerwasunderstood.
Abeadofsweattrickleddownmyback.“I’mridingawaveofwinsandIjustneedalittlemoretime.”
Looperstudiedmeforamoment,hisexpressionunreadable “Timeisluxury,andit’soneyou’rerunningoutof Remember, Ihaveeyeseverywhere.Iknowaboutyourwins,andIknowaboutyourlosses.Youcan’thidefromwhatyouowe.”
The reality of my situation was closing in, suffocating Looper’s presence, Kurgan looming silently behind him, were physicalremindersofthethreathangingovermyhead.
“I’llgetyourmoney,Looper,”Irepeated,moretoconvincemyselfthanhim “Justgivemeabitmoretime YouknowI’m goodforit.”
“Your worthis measured byyour abilityto settle your debts,” Looper sneered. “And right now, Michael Zhang, you’re worth nothing” His gaze was steady, and he closed the notebook with a soft thud, a gesture signaling the end of our conversation.“Irunabusiness,notacharity,andtimeissomethingyoudon'thave,Michael.”
Hiswordsstung,butIwasMichael freaking Zhang,andIwasoverduesomeluck
Loopertappedhislips.“But,sayyouthrowmeaboneonwho’sinjured,orhey,whataboutyouengineertheStormlosing toBostonnextweekend ”Looperbegan
“What?”
“Aturnoverhereandthere,aloss thatmightpaymebacksomeofwhatyouowe?”
Shocknearlycutmeoffatthelegs “Fuckoff I’mnotthrowingfreakinggames”Thethoughtofdoingthat,oflettingdown theteam,of…
Wouldithurt?
Itwouldbeonegame.
Fuck What am I doing? I’m not so desperate that I would do that
WouldI?
“TheStormisateam;it’snotlikeIcanthrow agamejustbymyactionsalone.YoureallythinkthatI,alone,couldmake suretheStormlosestoateamlikeBoston?”
“Butyou’dbewillingtothrowagameifyoucould?”
“What?Ididn’tsaythat No,Iwouldn’thelpyou”
“Then,that’syourloss,Mr.Zhang.”
Istood there;confidentIcould fixthings. Looper's refusal to extend more creditwas justa blip. The world Ihad been drawn into, this underworld of high stakes and higher risks, might be unforgiving, and didn’t care about my potential, my earnings,ormyname,butIwasonaroll.
He had toseethat
“Fuck’ssake,Looper ”
Kurganplaced a hand onmychest and the toweringgiant ofa manwas betweenme and mybanker Iducked and hipcheckedhim, butthis wasn’tsome D-manIwas skatingawayfrom,he was musclebound, hada hundred pounds onme, and wasimmobile.
“Leave,”hegrumbled
Ipokedthebear,literally,shovingatsolidmuscle.“Youneedtofuckoff,soIcantalktoyourboss.”
Kurgangrabbedmyhand,twistedit,andshovedmebackwarduntilImetthewall Then,inaflurryofmotion,hehadme outsidethesidedoor,shovingmesohardIstumbledbackandhitthescaffoldingcurrentlygracingboththisbuildingandthe restaurantbesideit
Ibeatonthatcloseddoor feltabonecrackinmyhandIsmackeditsohard butIdidn’tcare,andnoonecameouttome. “Fuckyou!” Ishouted up at the building, a wave ofrighteous indignationwashingover me. Icrossed to myMercedes, whichwasallflashandstyle,andabouttheonlythingIstillhadtomyname,eveniftherepaymentswerekillingme Ikicked thetire.“Fuckyou!”Irepeated,drawingafewglancesfrompedestriansheadingintothefamilyrestaurant.
Theirexpressionspinched,theyhadnoideahowbadlyI’dbeenscrewedover,orwhyIwaskickingmycarandrailingat theworld.Iconfrontedthem,bristling,waitingforthemtosaysomething,alcoholblurringtheedgeofgooddecision-making.I climbedintomycar,thecoolairdoinglittletodullthealcoholbuzz,butknowingIshouldn’tdrive Ifumbledformyphone lookingforsomeonetocollectme.
Someonewhoevencaredaboutmeenoughtogethere.
Notmybrother No,Charles Golden Boy Zhangwouldjudgeme,tell meIwasmessingup,demandIstop Defiantanger simmeredwithinme.Iwasn'tgoingtolie downandacceptLooper’s judgment,or mybrother’s self-righteous condemnation borderingonpity Peopleneededtoremembermysuccessesontheice,thatIshonebright,andtheworldfreakingowedme Iwouldwinagain,provethemallwrong.
Fuckthatnoise. Maybe someone onthe team. Who? Icouldn’tthink myhead hurt. Maybe Camwould throw me some cash,orPrez bothofthemhadcontractsbiggerthanmine,andwewereteammates brothers-in-hockey sothey’dhelp?A renewedsenseofdeterminationfloodedmeatthinkingofawayout.Ipushedthebuttontogetmyphoneworking,onlyitwas
dead,becauseofcourseitwas,andIturnedonthecar,thencursedandfoughttogetthechargingleadworking.
Startled, I turned towards a flashto myleft. There, not more thana few feet away, was a figure withtheir phone out, snapping photos through my car window The sudden intrusion felt like a violation, and my temper spiked The light was blinding,disorienting,addingtothesurrealsensethatevenmyprivatetemperwasn’tsafefrompryingeyes.
Iloweredthewindowalittle “Hey!”Ibarked,myvoicelacedwithfrustrationandahintofdesperation “Getlost!”But theguy,nomorethanakid,undeterredbymyoutburst,continuedtosnapaway,orwashefilmingnow?
Inahazeoffrustrationandtheneedforaswiftescape,Ithrewthecarintoreverseandtheengineroaredtolife Myhand washeavyonthestick,drivenbytheurgentdesiretogetawayfrompryingeyesandflashingcameras.
ThecarlurchedbackwardwithmoreforcethanI’dintended,andbeforeIcouldfullygraspwhatwashappening,therewas asickeningcrash Therear ofmybeautiful car collidedwiththescaffolding Peoplescreamed,therewas shouting,butfor a moment,time seemedtostandstill.The lightfromthe camera was replacedbythe flashingonthe car’s dashboard,warning signalsblaringinthesuddensilencefollowingthecollision
Iwasokay.
Ihadn’thurtmyself
Then,thescaffoldingshifted,acacophonyofbending,breaking,andcrashing. Andeverythingwentdark.
I SLOUCHED IN THE STIFF LEATHER CHAIR AS, ACROSS FROM ME, MY LAWYER MR. JENKINS, ADJUSTED HIS GLASSES, READY TO diveintothegrimrealityofmysituation Besideme,Charlessatwithhishandsinhislap,silent,judging,andwithapermanent expressionofconcernmorepatronizingthancomforting.
“Thisisbullshit,”Isnappedbecause,yes,itwasfuckingbullshit “It’snotasifIhurtanyoneapartfrommyself nopeople wereinjuredinthefilmingofmefuckingup.”Ichuckledtomyself,andCharlesmutteredunderhisbreath.Ididn’tcatchallthe words,butIgotthegistofhisdisapproval
“Let's be clear about what’s at stake, Michael,” Mr. Jenkins began, his voice stern, yet not devoid of empathy. “Your sentencefollowingtheincidentwithyourcariscommunityservice.Thisisnon-negotiable.”
“Weneedtoappeal”
Is it hot in here?
“Youdidthecrime,andwe’renotappealing,”Charlessnapped
“Fuckyou,Charles.”
“Youwanttogobackoutthereandappealagainstsomethingyouknowwaswrong?How’sthatgoingtowork?”
IglancedatCharles,bitingbackaretort.Hispresencewasasilentreprimand,hisinvolvementinmyaffairsareminderof how far I’d fallen. Onlybyhis grace was Ievensittinginthis office and notbeingdrivento some prisoninthe ass end of nowhere He’d paid for the best lawyer; he’d vouched for me; he’d basicallythrownhimself at the mercyof the media to defendme.
Iguessit’dlookbadforhimifaZhangbrotherwasbehindbars
ThatwasCharles alwayswatchingoutfornumberone.Asshole.
“Andthat'snotall,”Mr.Jenkinscontinued,speakingrightovermyincreduloussigh.
“Ofcourse,itisn’t.”Islumpedevenfurtherinmyseat.Threemonths,andthefallfromgracehadbeenspectacular.Iwas onlong-terminjuredreserve,butitwasonlyamatteroftimebeforetheStormgotridofme,goingthesamewayasmyagent, who’ddroppedmelikeahotpotato
“Your driver’s license is suspended for a year, but you don’t automatically get that back. You’ll have to go through assessmentforsobriety”
“I’mnotafuckingalcoholic;itwasonedrink!”Ortwo,orwhatever.“I’maprofessionalathlete.Itakecareofmyself.” Charleshuffedand,Iswear,hewasonemorehuffawayfrommedeckinghim.
“Asforyourlivingsituation,”Mr.Jenkinsignoredmysobrietycomment,“yoursentencemandateslivingattheaddresson courtrecords.”
“Myhouse,”Charlessaid Hewastryingforsupportive,butIknew,thatunderthat,hewasprobablyfeelingsmugandselfrighteous.“I’mhisbrother.”
“I’minthe pool house” Acramped space, one-bedroom, a kitchen-diner, and shittyWiFi, a far cryfrommysprawling housethathadlongsincebeensoldofftorepaythemortgagesI’dtakenoutonit.“Shitty,small,andnoAC.”
“It’saroofoveryourhead,andit’sfree,”Charlessaidcautiously.
“Whatever,SaintCharles”
Charlesgapedatme.“You’reanasshole,Mikey.”
“Fuckyou,”Isnappedback
Mr.Jenkinsshuffledpapersandclearedhisthroat,probablyconfusedbythefactthatfanfavorite,captainoftheLAStorm, CharlesZhangwasanasshole,andIwashavingtostandupformyself.“Withrespecttothecommunityengagement,thereare limitedchoicesforyourplacement,whichyouwillbeginintendays Detailswillfollowshortly,butwedohaveaplacefor you.”
“AsIsaid,whatever”
“Michael,Iknowthisishard,butit’sanopportunitytoresetyourlifeonabetterpath,”Charlesinterjected,hisvoicelaced withasinceritythatonlyfueledmyirritation
Iturnedaway,hiswordsfeelinglikesaltinawound.Hislifewasperfect Clare,hislovingwife,twobeautifuldaughters, asuccessfulcareerplayingthegameheloved.AndhereIwas,losingeverythingbecausenoonehadevergivenmethesame chancesmybrotherhadenjoyed I’dalwaysbeensecondbest,notquitetheplayerhewas,notasold,notfirstinthelineforthe goodstuff.Thereagain,Iwas just theadoptedkid;hewastheonewiththeparentswho’dactuallycreatedhim.
“AsIwassaying,theplacetheteamhasinmindisacommunitygardenproject achancetocontributepositively,asper yoursentence,”Mr.Jenkinssaid,snappingmebacktoreality.
Iscoffedinternally Frompromisingathletetogardener notexactlythelifestoryIhadinmind Still,onceIwasback,I’d showeveryonehowmuchMichaelZhangcouldwinatlife,andallIneededwasthestakeforthegame.
“Andofcourse,inSeptember,inadditiontothehoursagreedforyoursentence,youaremandatedtospendfivehoursper weekwithTheHonor Guards,theveterans’hockeyteamoutinEncino ThiswasagreedwithNHLPlayer Supportasaway to ”
“Yeah,yeah,makeitlookgoodforthem”
“Thatwillbegoodforyoutoo,”Charlescommented.“Toworkwithvetsandseewhatarealherolookslike.”
Iroundedonmybrother,whorearedback.“Thefuck?”
Heheldhishandsupinmocksurrender.“AllImeantwas,hockeyplayersaren’theroes;we’renothingspecial.”
“Speakforyourself,asshole,”Imuttered. And fuck you, big brother. Livingonhisdime,freakinggardening,then,addingin hockeywannabes,andmypunishmentwascomplete
“Andremember,anyfailuretocomplywiththeseconditionswilllandyoubackincourt,”Mr.Jenkinsconcluded.
“Yeah,yeah,let’sgetthisshitdone”
Chapter 2
Bryce
“ … AND THEN, UNCLE TONY AND I WENT HIKING. JUST US MEN. MOM STAYED AT THE CABIN TO WORK ON HER NEW COOKBOOK withvenisonmeat Dad,didyouknowthatvenisonmeatisfromadeer?”
Ismiledatmysonviaourweeklyvideochat,wishinguponwisheshecouldstopquoting Uncle Tony.Tony,orasheliked tospreaditaround,WildlifeConservationOfficerAnthonyLangella,wasmyex-wife’sboyfriend.HewasnotLeo’suncle,and moreimportantly,hewasnothisfather I washisfather Imightbealameone,butI was hisfather AndifTony,inhisspiffy uniformand his trips to Red RockCanyonParkwhere he worked and cared for wild animals and camped and sangsongs aroundcarefullytendedcampfiresandspenteverydaywith
Slow that roll, Bryce. Leo loves you. Tony is good for him and Courtney. Jealousy is a petty, acidic emotion. She deserves someone stable in her life Your son will always be your son no matter how many desert big horn sheep or wily coyotes Tony shows him. You’re just as cool. LAis just as awesome as a national park. If you squint really hard.
“Yeah,Ididknowthat,bud.DidyoulikethevenisonstewMommade?”
“Ilikeditokay Thecarrotsweregross,butTonysaysthatifIwanttobeaforestrangerlikehimsomeday,thenIhadtoeat vegetables.Dad,whendoIcometothegardenagain?”
“Well,that’skindofwhyIcalled,otherthantotalktoyou Isyourmomaround?Weneedtotalkaboutyoucomingoutfor yourEasterbreak.”
“Yay!Dad,whenIcomeout,canIfeedthetentpeoplecarrots?”
Oh,mystars.Hemadeitsoundlikewewererunningapettingzoo.
“Sure,wecanpassoutextraproducetotheunshelteredpeoplewhovisit,”Icorrectedgently.
“Cool Ilikethem Thatonelady,Ruth,givesmemarbles Mom!” hebellowed,makingmewince “Dadisonthecomputer foryou!”Hisattentioncamebacktome.“Willyouflyouttomeetme,orcanIflyoutalone?”
“Someonewillflywithyou MomandIwilldiscussallofthat”
“I’mbigenoughtoflyalone.MelissaMeyersfliestoArizonatoseehergrandmaallthetimealone,andshe’sagirl.”
“Leo,whatdidwediscussaboutusingthatphrase?”
Hissighwassoheavyitblewsomeofthedirtyblondhairfromhissoftblueeyes,whichhe’dgottenfromhismother.He wasn’tmuchlikeme,apartfromhavingmychin hadn’tinheritedmywarmskintone,orblackhair,notevenmydarkbrown eyes therewasn’tatraceofmyheritageinhimatall
“Thatgirlsarejustasculpable ”
“Capable”
“Right,capableasboysofdoingeverythingintheworld.Here’sMom.”Heblewmeakiss,thenracedoff,probablytogo playwithMelissa,hisfriend,next-doorneighbor,andinstigatorofflyingalonewhenonewasonlyseven.
Courtneyappearedonthescreen,hersoftblondehairpulledintoaponytail,hernosesmearedwithtomatosauce,andher bright white apron covered with ruby red speckles. She was adorable. As always. Even though we’d parted on less than amicableterms,Icouldadmitshewasalovelywoman,aterrificmother,andawonderfulcook Hertasteinmenleftabitto bedesired.Imean,shedidpickme…
“Hey, Bryce,” she said as she satdown, thenrolled her chair back “I’mglad youcalled Is there anywaythatwe can switchLeo’svisitwithyouoverEastertosomethinglaterintheyear?Maybealongersummervisit?”
Myfirstinstinctwastoreact.SomethingI’dlearned,overtimeandmanymonthsspentinmeetingsatNA,totampdown. “Courtney,Ihaven’tseenhimsinceChristmas,”Iremindedher Notonlythat,buther brother,Jack,hadvisitedthemfor two weeks’vacationjusta monthback, and boyhadn’tIheard all abouthow wonderful Uncle freakingJackwas, withhim beingacop,andhavingabadge,andputtingbadguysinjail
GoodforJack.
“Iknow,andIwouldn’task,butTonyhasthisgreatideatotakeusalltoaseminarinWyomingwherewecouldfinallyget tovisitYellowstone,andJackhasalreadyhelpedusout.”Iexhaled,hopingbreathwouldpurgetheresentmentofTonythePark Rangertakingmytimewithmyson,andJack-the-awesome-unclebeingallhero-like.“Youlookmad.”
“I’mnotmad.Iam incrediblydisappointed.IassumethatTonyhasmentionedthispossibletriptoYellowstonetoLeo?” Herslimbrowstangled.Whoops.Thatwasnottherightdirectiontotake.SeemsI’dknowwhatpissedmyexoffbynow, she’dspentmostofourmarriedyearsangryatme
Oh, you know perfectly well what buttons to push, don’t be coy.
Yeah,Idid,anditwaspetty
“No,Bryce,hedidnotbecausehedidn’twanttobuildupexpectationsincaseyouthrewyourselfoverthis.”
“I’mnotsurethatexpressingmyunhappinessovernotseeingmysoncanbecalledthrowingmyself”
“Bryce.”Sheclosedhereyes,thenopenedthemslowly,theangerlesseningtobereplacedwithsadresignation.“Iknow youdislikeTony.”Isaidnothing.Shehuffed.“Fine,let’snotdiscussTony.Let’sdiscussifthisissomethingthatyou’regoingto getupsetabout Ifyouwanttobeadickaboutthisthenfine,we’ll blow thisincredibleopportunitytoshow your sononeof thiscountry’smostincrediblenaturalplacessohecansitinthemiddleofLosAngeleswithyouandthosebeesyou’resofond ofwhilepeoplearecarjackedonthecorner”
“Beesarepollinators,”Ireplieddully.Shehitmewithaflatlook.“No,no,ofcoursenot,I’mnotgoingtodenymysonthat chance ButIwanthimtospendtheentiresummerherewithme”Thatwipedthesmilegrowingonherfacecleanaway
“Bryce,that’sabitunreasonable.Besides,he’ssignedupforlittleRangerscampinJuly,thenTonyandIaretakinghimto Tony’sparentsinFloridainAugusttodoDisney.Surely,youdon’twantmetocancelallofthoseplanssothathecanfeedthe homelesslimpcarrots”
“They’re homeless people, and mycarrots are far fromlimp,” Isnapped back, thenfolded inonmyself. “Fine, butIdo wantextratime Twomoreweeks”
“Okay,sure,that’sfair.Thanksfornotmakingthisathing,Bryce.”
“Ofcourse.”Igaveherafeeblesmile.
“Oh,andgreatnews!”
“What?”
“Jacktransferredyourway,workingoutofthecity Notsurewhere,butclose”
Ohgreat.Not.HewouldneverforgivemeforwhatI’ddonetohissisterandnephew;howinhiseyes,Iwasaloserwho’d destroyedanyhappiness Hehadapoint,butstill,wewerenevergoingtobefriends
“Ihavetogo,there’s apot,”Imumbled,thensaidgoodbyebeforeendingthecall.Sittinginmysmall apartmentablock frommybelovedgarden,Iletmyselfhaveamomentofpureire.Then,becauseanger didasoul nogood,Itookacleansing breath,changedintosomeloosepantsandabrightblueteewithdancingtomatoesonthefront,andshovedmyfeetintosome oldsneakers.Ineededtode-stress,andthebestplaceforthatwasthegarden.
Steppingoutofmycramped place, Ifastened the locks, thenpattered downthe stairs and pastthe landlady’s apartment HearingMrs.Chospeakingtohercat,Idecidedtositonthestoopforher.Citykidspedaledbyonbikes,theflurryofdifferent dialectsfromopenwindowsfloatingby NaryonecarjackingoccurredwhileIwaitedformylandladytoappear
“Morning, Bryce,” Mrs. Cho called as she backed outofher door, shooingher catLeftybackbefore slammingthe door closed.Leftywasanindoorcatnow,sincethedaytwoyearsagowhenhe’dreturnedfromprowlingthestreetsbeatentobits byanother cat He’d ended up losinghis left eye, whichwas whyhe was now called Lefty Before me, he had beensome randomalleycatwithnoname.Nowhewasafatyellowtabbywithnoballsandonelesseyebutpossessingafullbellyanda laptocurlupon
“Morning, Mrs. Cho,” Ireplied, smilingdownonthe diminutive womanwithsilver hair and a tinynose holdingup her alwayssmudgedglasses Tinyshemaybe,butshewasaforcetobereckonedwithwhenneedsbe,andshewasalsooneofthe kindest, mostgivingpeople I’d ever met. Noteveryone would have rented their upstairs apartmentto anex-addictwho had zeroreferences,zerojobopportunities,andzerochances.“DidLeftyeatthesalmonthatMilesbroughttothegarden?”
“No,thatstupidcat Heeatsplasticbags,butnotcannedsalmon”Sheheadedout,littlefeetincrispwhitesneakers,her goalthecommunitygardenandourweeklysunrisetaichiclass.
“Soundslikeacat,”Ichuckledafterincreasingmypacetocatchup “Although,tobefair,IhavenocluewhereMilofound thatcanofsalmonorhowolditwas.”
“Seemsanoldalleycatwouldn’tbesopicky,”shereplied,turningleftatthefruitmarket WewavedatBohdan,theowner, stoppingonlyforamomentsoMrs.ChocouldbuyaRedBull.BohdanwasabigmanfromUkrainewhohadsettledheremany yearsagowithhiswife.Shehadpassedtenyearsagothisspring,andeversince,BohdanhadbeentryingtowooMrs.Cho, whohadalsobeenwidowedforadecade
Ichuckledatthetwopretendingtheydidn’tnoticetheother.I’dbeenaloneeversincemydivorceeightyearsago,andif someone maleorfemale staredatmethewayBohdanlookedatMrs Cho,I’dbeinhisorherarmsinaflash Ofcourse, thatkindofimpulsivebehaviorwasalargereasonI’dendedupdivorcedandalone,soyeah…
Thewalktothegardenswasashortoneaswelivednearby.Mrs.Chospottedhimfirst,asIwasdiggingmykeysoutofthe pocketsofmylinenpants.
“Who is that stud?” she asked, skidding to a halt in front of me. I nearly rear-ended her, avoiding a crash with a neat
sidestep that bounced me off the tall fencing around the San Pedro Street Community Garden. My gaze found the man in question.Hewasparkedinfrontofthegardengates,hisbacksiderestingonthebumperofabrand-new SubaruForester,his longlegscrossedattheankles Hegavetheimpressionthathewasboredwiththeworld,armsfoldedoverasnuggrayteethat showedoffhisthickbiceps.Damn,hewasgorgeous I’dalwayshadathingforredheads.“HelookslikemyHaJoonwhen hewasyoung”
Since I’d never metMr. Cho atanyage, all Icould do was nod. LuckyMrs. Cho ifher hubbywas thathandsome. She calledovertothestrangerinKorean Heignoredherandstaredbackatthesmallgroupofpeoplewaitingoutsidethegarden, mostincomfyclothes,asneeronhisface.WehadtenseniorswhofollowedtheclassledbyMrs.Choandme,andtheywere allhere,alongwithafewhomelesspeoplewaitingforsomegoodies.Thestrangerhadnoneedtobesneeringatanyone.
“Ah,pityhe’s rude;still,he’s a looker Youshouldhithimup,” she whispered Ididn’twanttodefendthe sneer,buthe probablydidn’tspeakKorean.Mrs.ChopokedmeinthesidesohardIsworeshecrackedarib.“Youliketheboys,andhe’sa hot-cha-cha”
Ifeltablushriseupmyneck,andwishedIhadn’tdecidedaweekbacktoshavemybeard,whichwouldhavehiddenit.I was scruffy, accordingto Mrs Cho, and so, off it had come “I like boys and girls,” I reminded her, thengave the people outsidemygardengateawarmwelcome.“Sorrywe’rerunningalittlelate.Iwasvisitingwithmysononline,andhelikesto gab.”Iflungthegateopenwide.
AlltheseniorscooedaboutLeoastheyentered Theunshelteredwaitedoutside,astheyalwaysdid Theyweremorethan welcometocomein,buttheyseemedhappierstayingonthesidewalkwiththepossessionstheycarried.Mostpackeduptheir tentsandcartedthemalongwiththem,iftheyhadtents,sincethecitysanitationdepartmentwouldsweepthroughanddispose oftheirbelongings.Itwasaterriblepractice,Ifelt,butIhadlittlecontroloverwhatthecitydidtocounterthesituation,even if I did show up at cityhall to protest suchthings. Sadly, no one seemed to have anyreal solutions to the problemof the homelessinthisoranymajorcity.So,wedidwhatwecouldforthosewecould.I’ddonemyshareofsleepingonthestreet beforeI’dgottenclean,andhadstumbledintoMrs.Cho,whoseemedtohaveasoftspotforunwantedstrayswhosleptonher stoop
“Hey,”Mr.Handsomecalledashelopedintothegarden,hispaleeyessweepingthelargeareaasifheexpectedamonster toleapoutathimfromtheChavezfamily’scornplants,whichweredoingquitewell,evenwiththelackofrainoflate “I’m lookingforthegardenmanager,someBryceguy?”
“Thatwouldbeme,”Ianswered,motioningforMrs.ChotogettheclassgoingwhileIopenedthesmall officebuilding. “Areyoutheelectricianthemainofficesentouttocheckonthesprinklersinthegreenhouses?”
“What?No,I’mnottheelectrician.I’mMichaelZhang.”
Iflipped onthe lightswitchinside the stuffybrickbuilding The overhead fans whirred to life, pushingwarmair down overus.Thewayhe’dsaiditimpliedIshouldknowwhohewas.
“I’msorryIdon’t ” Oh, wait Zhang
Istaredhardattheman,whichwasn’tahardshipbecause,damn,hewasfine.Paleandfreckled,hisredhair wasstyled shortandclose,andhispaleeyeswerewinter-grayoncloserinspection.I’dbeenahappybisexualformostofmyadultlife, andwhilemyexperienceswithmenhadbeenfew,they’dbeenfreakingincredible Then,I’dkindofgottenmarried,felloffa stageinSeattleandtotaledmyknee,gothookedonpainkillers,weanedmyselfoffthepills,andthatledto…well,shit,that didn’tneedtobehungonthementallinestoairoutrightnow
“Ohright,thehockeyplayer.”TheoneI’dsignedoffonallowinghimtoservehistimehereafewweeksago.Mymemory waspooronagooddayandatrociousonabad Ilikedtoblameoldageandamisspentyouth
“Yeah, the hockeyplayer.”Ipausedtodigestthesnarkinhistone.“Ihavetoshowuphereforthreehundredhours,socan wejustgetstarted.ThesoonerIgetthisasininepunishmentdoneandoverwith,thesoonerIcanreturntotryingtogetbackon theteamrosterandleavethisshittydirtpatchbehind”
“Wow,okay,sobeforeweevengetstartedhere,letmeexplainafewthings.Igetthatyou’recominghereagainstyourwill, butifyoucallmygardenashittydirtpatchagain,IwilltossyourasstothecurbfasterthanyoucansayRomatomatoes”He stareddownatmewithanothersneer,asifhedoubtedIcouldtosshimanywhere,andwhileIwas inshape,Isuspectedhewas right “Also,ifyoucontinuetoflingyourattitudearoundatmeortheotherswhovolunteerhere,Iwill makeanoteofitonyour paperwork.”Allthesasslefthisface.“Ohyes,Idoreportbacktothecourtviaaweeklycalloremail,sowhydon’tyouchuck thatarroganceintothecompostbins.Areweclear,Mr.HockeyStar?”Henodded.“Good.NowletmefindyouaT-shirtthat fits,youcananswersomequestions,andthencangettowork We’readdingfertilizertothepumpkinpatchestoday”
ThelookIgotfromhimwaspriceless.Nothingbroughtamandownfromhisself-righteousnesslikeworkingcowshitinto theearth
Chapter 3
BRYCE HAD A CLIPBOARD IN HIS HAND AND A SMILE THAT WOULDN’T QUIT UNTIL IT WAS REPLACED WITH THAT SPARK OF temper He was attractive,witha ruggedcharmthatirritatedme for reasons Icouldn'tquite understand His warmwelcome andeasydemeanor feltlike a starkreminder ofthe chaos ofmyownlife, buthis stare was judgmental, his frownso deep I thoughtitmightscarhisface.Hisskinwastanned,hisdarkhairshining,gorgeouseyesfulloflife,andIwonderedifhemight havesomePacificIslanderbloodjudgingbyhisfeatures Iwascaughtbythesightofearringsinoneearashisdark-eyedgaze focusedonme,checkingmeoutfromheadtotoe.
Checkingmeout?Or checking me out?
“Thisway,”hesaid,thenpivotedandheadedoff,expectingmetofollow.
Forabriefmoment,IconsideredstayingwhereIwas,butwhatwouldthatachievetowardmeworkingoffmytime?
Bryce led me throughthe garden, and for some godforsakenreason, he slowed so Iwas walkingnext to him, and then, worse,hebegantoexplainwhatwasherewithapassionthatseemedforeigntome.Hisenthusiasmforsomethingasmundane asgardeninggratedonme,andresentmentIevenhadtolistentothisgrew witheachstep Infact,themoreBrycespoke,the lessIheard,asmymindfixatedonthelifeIshouldbeliving.TheStormwasplayingtheRaptorstomorrow alwaysthebest game with our closest division opponents We’d met them three times already this season, won once, and tomorrow was supposedtobepayback.
Only,Iwouldn’tbeplaying.
SuckstobetheStormwhentheylosebecauseI’mnotthere.AlosswouldshoweveryonejusthowineffectiveCharleswas atbeingcaptainwhentheyfailedwithoutme.Notthatthey’dlostmuchoverthepastthreemonthsofmenotplaying,butthey’d realizewhattheywerethrowingawayiftheyconvertedmylong-terminjuredreservestatustoshovingmeoutaltogether
As Bryce continued his overenthusiastic tour throughthe garden, whichwas apparently the bestcommunitygardenin thehistoryofwhateverthehell whenever,Ifoundmyattentionwandering Thedroneofhisvoicebecamebackgroundnoise Hiswordsoncompostingtechniquesandtheimportanceofcroprotationfellondeafears.Inoddedalong,noteventryingto feigninterest,whileinside,resentmentsimmered.
Bryce, with hands animated as if painting a picture, had moved on to the people who used the space, and for some inexplicablereason,heincludedatreatiseonthegarden'sbarteringsystem.“Wetradewhatwegrowhereforothergoods,”he saidwithpride “It’snotjustabouttheharvest;it’saboutbuildingacommunity,youknow?”Inodded,ashetalkedaboutthe exchangeoftomatoesforfresheggs,orherbsforhoney.Thatwasarchaic hell,whocouldn’taffordafewfreakingtomatoes?
Bryceusheredmebackintotheofficethatwasnowhereastidyastheorderoutside,andItookagoodlookaround This room morelikeashedreally wasclutteredandmessy shelvesfilledwithemptyplantpots,boxespiledinthecorner,and theairstunkwiththeearthysmellofgreenery,andthedampinheremademegag.God,Imissedtheice.
Itookaseat,thechair creakingundermyweight,andwatchedhimclear spaceonhisdesk,thenrummageintoadrawer, comingbackupwithaclipboard,thenrunninghisfingersthroughhisshortdarkhair.
“Firstthing’sgoodnews,”Brycestarted,histonecasual,butprofessional “Iprintedoffyourbackgroundcheckreportand itwasclear.”
“Apartfromalmostkillinganentirerestaurantoffamilies,”Isaid,pushinghimtoreact
Hefrowned.“DUIiswhatIhavehere.”
“Icouldhavekilledsomeone.”Isatforwardinmychair,daringhimtoaskmemore.
“Butyoudidn’t,”hesaid,allcalmandmatter-of-fact
IhatedthathecouldsitthereandknowallaboutmewhenIknewnothingabouthim.Ibethehadn’tknownadayoftrouble inhisentirelife,sameasmysaintedbrother;probablyhadfamilywhotoldhimhewasagreatguyanddidthisworkbecause hecouldfallbackonDaddy’strustfund.
OrMommy’s Iwasanequalopportunitytrustfundaccuser
“Back to this, then,” he said. “We have a responsibility to the community, especially since many of our attendees are vulnerable.”
Michael
“‘Vulnerable’,huh?”ImumbledbecauseI’dlostthechanceofaconfrontationwiththisdo-gooderwho’dignoredmetrying togethimtoreact.
Bryceflippedthroughhisclipboard,tickingoffitemswithapen “Allright,Michael Mike?Mikey?”
“Michaelisfine.”
“Okay, a few routine questions for our records,” he began “We don’t allow smokingonthe property, nor drugs As to drinking,youwillbesubjectedtorandomchecks,andit’saone-strikeandyou’reoutpolicy.”
“Icantakeorleavedrink,”Isaid,andheraisedaneyebrow “ThefuckingDUIwasjustanothershittypieceofbadluckin myalreadyshittylife,”Iadded,andhereturnedmygazewithasteadyfocus.Ifeltasifhewaswaitingformore.“Whatabout poker?”Iasked.
Hefrowned “Noregularpokergameshere,I'mafraid”
“Shame,becauseI’mdownontwoyearsleftonmycontract,andIcoulddowithgettingtheeightmillback.”
Hedidn’tflinchatmethrowingaroundmycontractamounts fourmillayear whichI’dnowlost,butwhatever,Iusedto besomeone,untilithadbeentakenfromme.
“Well ” he drawled, and his voice pulled me backto the conversation “We do have some pretty intense composting competitions,”hedeadpanned.
Foramoment,Ifeltabubbleofalaughinsidemeathisjoke.IhadwordsonthetipofmytonguethatIalmostsaid.“I’ll keepmypokerfacereadyforthat,then”Ididn’tsayasinglething
Instead,Isneered.
He shook his head and returned to the form “There are protocols in place for your safety, which I will be taking you througha step ata time. Mostimportantly, youwill be workingoutside, inthe sun, and itdoesn’tmatter ifyouare prone to burning,youwill cover upanduse the highestfactor creamavailable.” He glancedupatme,andIknew whathe saw red hair,freckles,paleskin,easytoburn.
“I’mnotstupid,Icoverup,”Isnapped.“YouthinkIkeepthisgood-lookingbyaccident?”
He ignored that “Eachfull hour youworkwill be marked fromthese pages inthe folder,” Bryce explained, tappinga printedsheet.“I’llneedtosignoffoneachoneandfileadetailedreporttoyourprobationofficerofwhatyouachieved.”
Iraisedaneyebrow “Gotit So,you’regoingtojotdowneverytimeIplantaflowerorshovelmanure?”
Heignoredme.
Bryce dragged a box from the corner of the office, filled to the brim with long-sleeved T-shirts bearing the garden’s whimsicallogo aneggplantandaclusteroffruit.“Here,”hesaid,“findonethatfits.”
Ipulledoutashirt,eyeingthelogo.“Niceeggplant,”Iquipped,thesarcasminmyvoiceunmistakable.
“Wegetwhatwe’regiven,”Brycerepliedwithashrug,unfazed “Budgetdoesn'tstretchtofashionstatements”
I stripped off mydesigner tee one of the few things that was still mine lettingit fall to the chair, aware of Bryce’s presenceinthesmall room Ididn’thaveissuesgettingundressedinfrontofsomeone,hell,yearsinlocker roomstaughtme thatnoonewascheckingmeouthoweverhardIflexedandposed.
AlthoughIdidpeekatBrycetoseeifhewasindeedlookingasIrevealedskin.IflexedmymusclesbecauseIwasn'tabove abitofshowmanship,evenifitwasfortheindifferenteyesofamanwhoseemedmoreinterestedincompostthanasix-pack Still,asIpulledthesnuggardenshirtovermyhead,IthoughtforamomentIsawaglintofsomethinginBryce’seyes,butall tooquicklyhereturnedtoprofessionalismandindifference Theshirthuggedmypecsabittoosnuglyfor mytaste,andonly justskimmedmybelt.Iyankeditdown,thentookitoffandrummagedaroundintheboxforalargersize,finallyhappytofind onethatdidn’trideupwhenItouchedmytoes
“Wehaveyoga,”Bryceblurted,thenshuffledthepapersonhisdeskbackintothefolderwithmynameontheoutside. “Huh?”
“Morningyoga,forwhenyougethereatsix-thirtyam”
“I’mguessingmorningyogadoesn’tcounttowardmyhours?”
“No”
“Then,Iwon’tbehereforsix-thirtya.m.,”Iargued.
Hetappedthefile “Mandatedhours,sixam untilfourpm Yourchoiceonyogabutsittingitoutisyoujustwastingtime” “I’lldigshitwhileyoudoyoga.”
“Notunsupervisedyouwon’t.”
“Then,I’llgethereforseven”
“You’llbehereatsixorthat’sanissueI’llbetakingupwithyourprobationofficer.”Impasse,butI’dgetmylawyeronto it “You’lltaketwofifteen-minutebreaksmorningandafternoon,andthereisonehourforlunch” No, I won’t. IignoredallthebreaksbecauseIwouldn’tbetakingthem.IwasgettingthesehoursknockeddownasfastasI could.TheonlyconcernIhadwascalculatinghowinGod’snameIwasgoingtogethereforsix,whatwithnotbeingableto drive.NotthatIevenhadacar,andatwingeofgriefatthedeathofmyMercedesgrippedme.I’dlovedthatcar,butwhenthe firefightershadfinishedcuttingheruptogetheroutofthescaffoldingnest,shewasnothingbutscrap,andtheinsurancemoney
wenttowardmydebtonthehouse.
Charleswouldhavetodropmeoff gethisassoutofhiscozybedinhishugehouseanddrivemehere.Ichuckledatthe thought,andBrycefrownedatme Mybad “Okay, let’s start,” Bryce said after a pause, his voice pullingme backfrommymomentofgrieffor the pastme who’d messedup “Pumpkinpatchisthisway”Helefttheofficeexpectingmetofollowwithouthesitation Itrailedbehindhimand staredathisassashestrodedownpathwaystoalargeplotoflandaboutasfarfromtheofficeaspossible.Depositedinone corner ofthe expanse ofmud was the biggestpile ofshitI’d ever seen, the stencha harshreminder Iwas notatanice rink anymore.
Fuckmylife.
As BryceandIdugintothegardenwork,Icouldn’thelpbutnoticehewas strong his shirttightenedover his bunching muscles witheachmovement,and Icaughtglimpses ofskinas he leaned forward. Itwas a straightforward recognition the guywasinshape,anditshowed itwasjustashameaboutthepreachingabouttheenvironmentthatcamewiththesexyass andmuscles.
Asthedayprogressed,myirritationgrew Bryce'sinstructions,hiscasualchatswithothervolunteersheintroducedmeto itallgratedonme.Everytimehesmiledorlaughedwiththem;Ifeltasurgeofannoyance.
Icoulddothehourstheygaveme.
AndwhenIleft,I’ddigBryceandhisinfrequent-but-annoyinglecturesaboutsustainabilityintothepumpkinpatchwithall thisfreakingmanure,sodeepthey’dneverfindhisbody.
Exhausted,Itookamomenttocheckmywatch,expectingfivehourstohavepassed One.
Onesolitaryhour.
Fuck.Freakinghundredsofhourstogo.
Chapter 4
Bryce
OKAY, YES, I KNOW, SNICKERING TO YOURSELF AS YOU SPIED ON THE NEWEST VOLUNTEER TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW A HOE workedwaspetty Colormechildishthen Courtneywouldagree ShealwayssaidIactedworsethanLeoattimes
Still,Ilingeredintheshadebythehives aplacewherefew tendedtohangoutbecause…bees andwatchedMichael the hockeyplayerattackaplotthathadbeenreturnedtousastherentershadmoved.Hewasn’tworkingthepacked-downsoil somuchashewastryingtochopitintobits Aftertenminutesbeingasniggeringass,ImoseyedonovertoMichaelassaulting plotnumberfifteen.
“Doyouhavesomethingagainstthissectionofsoil?”Iaskedashedugdownintothedirtwithenoughforcetofellamighty oak.Hewassoakedinsweat,whichwasnotabadlookatallfortheman.Sueme,hewasattractive.Youngerthanmebyabout tenorsoyears,accordingtohispaperwork SomethingIprobablyshouldkeepinmindwhenIwasoglinghisbacksidewhile pretending to be pinching off the early pepper plants. He stared at me in confusion. “You don’t need to beat the dirt into submission.Thisisn’thockey.”
“Youwanteditworked It’sworked”Hepausedtoleanonthehoe,hairplasteredtohishead
“True,Idid,butyou’reexertingyourselfneedlessly.MayI?”Imotionedtothehoe.Hepasseditover,thenusedhisteeasa towel for his face Myeyeballs dropped to his abs Theywere nice abs, firm, witha treasure trail of copper hair that led wanderingeyestoplacestheyshouldnotwander.IgrabbedthehoefromhimwithmoresassthanIshouldhave,mygazeflying tothesoilhe’dbeenwhackingat.“Okay,sothisisaDutchhoe ”
“Idatedoneofthoseonce.”
Irolledmyeyes,thencaughtaslighttwitchatthecornerofhismouth.“HernameisAnika.”
“You’vespenttoomuchtimesniffingherbicides,”hetossedout Thatdidmakemesmile
“Now,youhavetobekindtoladies,aswellastoyourback.Thehandleislongenoughthatyoudon’thavetobendover, orasinyourcase,liftitoveryourheadasifitwereabattleaxeandyouamightyVikingabouttobeheadanenemy”
Hequirkedoneeyebrow.Abeebuzzedby,stoppingjustforamomenttoresthertinyheinieonmyshoulder.Hedrewback, eyeswide,andliftedhishand.
“No,”Isaidasthehoneybeesattherechilling.“Wedon’tswatbeeshereinthegarden.Beesareourfriends.Theypollinate theplantsandmakeusyummyhoneytopourintoourtea.”
“Yeah,theyalsosting”
“Onlyinself-defense. Are youallergic?” Ididn’trecall seeingthatlisted onhis paperwork. He shookhis soddenhead. “Good,okay,sothenthere’snoneedtofreakoutifoneofthegirlslandsonyou Justgivehertimetocatchhertinybeebreath, trynottopinchher,andjustgoaboutwithyourwork.”Thebeetooktotheair.“Nicetoseeyouagain,Veronica!”
“Younamethebees?”
“Ofcourse Youhaveaname,right?”
“Notmuchofoneanymore,”hemumbled,andIfeltasting,butnotfromanybee,itwasastingofsympathy.Thisman,for all hisbitterness,washurting Iknew how thatfelt Iwasawareofhow harditwastoprythetalonsofaddictionfromyour flesh.“Areyousomesortofhippie?”
Thatlastcommentdidmakemelaugh “Insomeways,Isuppose I’vewalkedanincrediblyrockyroad Idiscovered,asI stumbledandfell facedown,thattheearthisalwayswillingtocatchyou,giveyousuccor,andreplenishwhathumanityand yourownfaultsstripfromyou.”
“Ohyeah,totalhippie IbetyoudidWoodstock,”hesaid,althoughIsawinhislovelyeyesthathewasbeingawiseass Or soIassumed.
“Yep,IplayedbackupforJimiHendrix”Thatonemadehimgape “I’mkidding Shit,I’mthirty-eight,notthat old”
“IfIcallyouold,doesthatnegateanytimeworked?”
“Itshould,butno,ofcoursenot Nowpayattention,Mike,forthisisvaluableinformationthatwillsaveyourback” Hesneeredattheuseofanickname.Ihadtowonderifhethoughtthatwouldsetmebackonmyheels.Ifhedid,hewasin forarudeawakening.I’dhadtougher,moredangeroussortscomethroughmygardentoworkoffservicetimethanonepissy
hockeyplayer.I’dbeentheonetoteachJimmy“TheHippo”Jenkinstogrowhisownherbs.IfIcouldhandle“TheHippo,”I couldhandleMichaelZhang.
Michael gotbored after a single demonstration, so Ihanded the hoe backto him, stood backwitharms folded over my chest,andwatchedasheworkedthesoilwithlessaggression.
“Nicelydone,”Isaidandgotanod “It’squittingtime Feelfreetolingerifyouwanttohelpcleanupor ”
“Later.”Heshovedthehoeatme,spunonhisheel,andoffhewent.
“Yeah, Ifigured thatwas how thatwould go, Anika,” Isighed, thenrested mychinonthe dirtyhoe Michael Zhangwas waypast just nice fromthe back. His front was prettygood too. “Ugh, okay, enoughlustingafter the volunteers. Come on, Anika,I’llwaltzyoubacktothetoolshed.”
And we danced our wayto the storage shed Ispentsome time walkingthroughthe plots after plantvisitinghours were overfortheday,takingstockofthings,eyeballingthegrowingplantsforanysignsofproblematicinsectsorblight.Thesounds ofthecitywereeverywhere,allaround,andyet,whenIwashereamongtheveggiesandfruittrees,thedinseemedlessened Someonehadchoppedabranchfromalemontree itsatallsadandlonelyontheground,andIglancedaroundasifthe perpetratorwashidinginthebushes Somepeoplecameherefortheirmentalhealth,angerissues,orsearchingforcalm,and somehowthepoorlemontreehadlikelytakenthebruntofsomeone’sbadday.Icarriedittothecompostingarea,turningitthis wayand that, wonderingifIcould use itfor something a wind chime or something. There were markings scored into the branch, a rough S and two O’s I couldn’t recall anyone with the initials S O O in the gardens, but my memory was not encyclopedic,anditprobablymeantnothingatall.
IhatedwastealmostasmuchasIresentedvandalism,howeverupsetapersonwaswhentheycommittedtheact Ihatedhavingtoleavethisbeautifulplace.
I’d live here ifIcould, butthe cityzoningdidn’tallow a dwelling, so Ihad to force myselfto go to mylittle apartment everynight.Icouldstretchoutgoinghomethough.Thatemptyspacewasdepressing.Imovedbackintotheoffice,thenafter onefinaltripthroughournewgreenhouse,agiftfromakiltedbenefactorwhoaskedtoremainnameless,butwaswellknown intherockcommunity,Iresignedmyselftogoinghome
Afterlockingthegate,Imeandereddownthegrittystreets,stoppingtovisitwithBohdanuntilhetoo,waslockingup,and then, made mywayhome Mrs Cho was watching Matlock as I passed her doorway She did love that charmingSouthern lawyer.Iclimbedthestairs,unlockedtheseverallocks,andsteppedinside.Myplacewasnothinggrand,forsure,butitwas mine.Well,Irentedit,sotechnically,itwasMrs.Cho’s,butforallintentsandpurposes,itwasmine.Itwassmall,filledwith whatmademehappy,suchasplantsandmyfirstguitarandpicturesofLeoandme.I’dpackedawaytheimagesofCourtney andmewhenthedivorcedecreewasfinalized.Therewasnopointinkeepingremindersofwhatcouldhavebeenlyingaround. I’dmademychoice
I’dchosendrugsovermyfamily Andyes,IknewenoughaboutaddictionnowthatIshouldn’tbesaying suchthingsaboutmyself.Iwouldneversayitaboutanyoneelsebattlingforsobriety.
Somedays,itwas hardtonotblamemyselffor itall whenithadbeenmewhohadlied,stolen,androbbedPeter topay Paul for the drugs.Courtneyhadtriedher besttobe supportive,but,inthe end,she simplycouldn’tdoit,andthatwas fair. Withherbrother’shelp,sheandJackhadtakenLeoawayfromthemessthatwasme,gottenanew place,andstartedover.I didn’tholdasinglethingagainstherforthatdecision Hell,ifI’dbeenlivingwithmysorryassthroughmyusingdays,Iwould haveleftmetoo.Iwasashittypersondoingshittythings.
“Oh man,” I sighed aloud, toeing off my sneakers, then padding into the kitchenette to cook up something tasty Maybe eatingwouldliftthispost-LeocallfunkIalwaysfellinto.Anormalpersonwouldbehappytohavespokentohischild,butI alwaysseemedtogetblueafterourweeklycalls Itwastoughtositherealone,withonlymywokandmyloveofoldmovies tokeepmecompanynightafternight.“Okay,sowestirupsomethingyummyandcheckouttheclassicmovieofferings.”
Isaid this to myhouseplants. Theyall seemed to agree withthe plans for the night, so after whippingup a rather tasty chickenstirfryservedoverbrownrice,Ifloppeddownonmysaggysofa,foundtheremote,andflippedwhileIate Isettled onanoldwarmoviecalled Tora!Tora!Tora!starringJasonRobards,oneofmyfavoritesfromyeoldendays.
AndsoendedanotherdayinthelifeofBryceKincaid Oh,theglamour Tothink,ifI’dsteppedright,insteadofleft,that nightinSeattle, mylife mightbe different. Maybe, I’d still have mysonlivingwithme. Maybe, I’d be rich. Maybe, I’d be livinginthehillslikeourkiltedbenefactor
Isighedovermyforkfulofriceandfreshveggies. Maybe.Maybe.Maybe.
ToquoteCAFletcher,“thethingaboutmaybesisthatyoucangetlostinthemandendupgoingnowhere”
Ididn’twanttogonowhere.Iwantedtogosomewhere.I was goingsomewhere.Okay,soitwas a differentsomewhere fromwhereI’dbeenheadingfifteenyearsagobutthatwas perfectly fine AslongasIwaswalkingthatnewdirectionclean
ofoneofmymoredisastrousdays.ShakingoffthememoryofthedayI’dcomehometofindanoticeoftax
THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY DAWNED BRIGHT, DRY, AND FAR TOO EARLY. I’D COME AWAKE AFTER A DISTURBING DREAM OR A replayIsupposed
saleforfailuretopaythepropertytaxesattachedtothefrontdoorofmyhouse,Irolledoutofbed,wishinglikehelltheweekly meetingwouldhavetakenplacethismorning.ThatwouldhavetowaituntilWednesdayeveningatthelocalMethodistchurch. Icouldcall mysponsor,butWiltwas probablysoundasleepbyhis wife Besides,itwas a dream Justanother wayfor my braintodredgeupsomeofthosebluesthatlikedtosneakintopullmysouldown.
Ishowered,dressedcasually,grabbedmyguitar,andshuffledofftothegarden TherewasnosoundfromMrs Cho’swhen Ipassedherdoor,althoughLeftywassittinginherwindowstaringdownatme.Iwavedatthecat,enjoyingthesomewhatquiet qualityof a sleepySunday morning inthe city Traffic was light at six am, not nonexistent, but light Bohdan’s shop was closedtoday,hebeingareligiousman,soIstoppedatasmallcoffee/donutshopownedbyaMiddleEasterncouplewhomade thebestmatchagreenteainthestate.
Andtheyopenedatthecrackofdawn,whichworkedwellformewhenIhadmybadnights Tenminuteslater,Iwasseated insidethegarden thegateunlocked,butclosed,aswedidn’topenonSundaysuntil1p.m.Iplunkedmybacksidedownabout tenfeetfromthebright-coloredhives,mybuttonmylilacyogamat,andpulledmybeat-upsix-stringfrommyback Iranmy fingersoverthestrings,sighingatthegentlesoundsflowingfromtheinstrument.
Foldingmylegs crisscross applesauce,Ibeganpluckingaway,lettingthe music take me where itwishedme togo That morning,itseemedtobeCatStevens or YusufIslamas heis now known aperformer whosits onmypersonal faves list withafewotherexaltedfolksytypes,suchasJamesTaylor,GordonLightfoot,andTheLumineers.
Ifoundmyselfsinging“TheWind”asthesunbegantocrawlabithigher Thecreakofthegardengatepulledmefromthe soft,mysticalplacetheearthandmusicalwaystookme,myeyeswideningtoseeMichaelZhangstandingtenfeetfromme.He lookedstunned
IplacedmyhandoverthestringsasIgazedupathim.Heappearedunsettledforsomereason.Unsettled,butlovely.And yes,mencouldbelovely,especiallythisonewiththehintofanewdayonhisface.
“Whatbringsyouhereonadayoff?”Ienquiredashetookalonestepcloser.
“Ididn’tknow yousang,” he answered instead ofaddressingthe statementI’d made. Inoted thathe did thatquite a bit, deflecting,andwhile itmightpiss offpeople whohadn’twalkedthe pathofrecovery,Isaw itfor whatitwas Addicts are mastersofdeflection.
“Idoabit”
“Thatsoundedlikemorethanabit.”Hedrewcloser,sharpeyesonthehivesbeforestoppingabouttwofeetfromwhereI sat.“You’reprettygood.”
“Meh,” Iteased,thenrestedmyrightarmatopmybelovedMartinacoustic.Myvoice was partofa sour past.“Are you cominghomefromanightout?”
“No,”hesnapped,hisfacetightening “I’mnotsomeboozehoundwhodrinkshiswaythroughlife”
“Good,”Ireplied,thenmotionedforhimtosit.Hebalked.“Thebeesaresluggishrightnow,sotheyshouldn’tventuretoo far fromthe hives justyet” His apprehensionwas obvious Ipatted myyoga mat, thenscootched over, curious to discover whathadledhimherewhenhecouldbelyingabedinthelapofluxurysomewherewithacurvylady,orbuffman.We’dnot discussedhissexuality,norwouldwe.Whothemanbeddedhadnoimpactatallonhowwellhecouldweedbeets.
“Whataboutwasps?”Helookedaroundwithsuspicion,andwincedasabeebumbledhisway “IcallthemJack,”Ideadpanned.
“Jack?”
“Stinging,nasty,grumbling,pointed,ergomyexbrother-in-law Jackson.Never mind,come andrest youlookas ifyou couldusesometimetosettle”
Iwasshockedwhenhedidasasked,foldingthoselongstronglegsunderhimtositbesideme,hisgazedartingtome,then thehives,thentothevegetableplots.
Istrummedslowly,notplayinganyonesong,justpickingbitsofthisandthatasheunwound
“So,didyouride the bus here?” Iaskedafter fiveminutes ofus sittingside-by-side as the local flockofwildparakeets startedtoarrive Thetinygreenbirdswerequiteanuisanceinthegarden,soweweretryingdifferentthingstodrivethemoff Sofar,asevidencedbyafewofthemperchedatopafakeowlonapost,littlehadworked.Iwavedmyhandatthebirds,and theytookoff Fornow
“Youdon’tlikebirds?”Michaelasked,oncemoreskirtingmyquestion.
“Ilovebirds,butthoselittlestinkershavelearnedtopluckourpeas,sowe’retryingafewtacticstokeepthemout.Fake owlsisnotworking”
“Nope,theyjustshitonhishead,”hepointedout.
“Thattheydid Wouldyoulikesomegreentea?It’sprobablycoolenoughtosipnow,”Iwavedahandatmytakeout,then beganplayingthesongI’dbeensingingwhenhe’darrived,sansvocalsfornow.
“No,I’mgood.CharlesstoppedataStarbucksonthewayhere.”Hestretchedhislegsout,leanedbackonhislockedarms, andstaredupatthepinksky.“MybrotherisgoingtobegonefortwodaysonaroadtriptoTucson.Ishouldbewithhim.”Ah. Okay,wellthatwasabitoftruth.Icontinuedplaying,lettinghimsortoutwhathewantedtosay,ifanything.“Wehadafight.”
“I’msorrythatyoutwofought,”Ioffered,playingon,mygazeflittingtoMichael’sprofiletimeandagain.
“Wealwaysdo,”hewhisperedtothesky,hiseyesclosingslowly.
“Haveyouthoughtaboutnotarguingwithhim?”Isaid
“I’mnottheonewhostartsthem.”
Isaidnothingmore,simplysatandplayed,gratefulforhistroubledandpricklycompany WhileIcherishedmytimehere aloneonourlittletwoacresofhappyveggies,sometimesIworriedmyramblingconversationswithhoneybeesmightsuggestI requiredmorehumaninteraction AndnooneseemedmorehumanormoreinneedofsomethingthanMichaelZhangdidright now,soIplayedon.Hestaredatthesky,anditwaswhatitneededtobe.Sometimes,thatwasallonecouldaskofamorning.
Chapter 5
MY RESTLESSNESS DROVE ME OUT FOR AN EARLY RUN, BUT IT WAS JUST MY FUCKING LUCK THAT I MET CHARLES LOADING STUFF into his car, readyto head outto the teamjetand offto Vancouver for anawaygame Ithoughtaboutturningback the last thingIneededwashimlecturingmeoversomeperceivedinfractionofhismoralcode butitwastoolate,becausetripping overhissticksmeanthemusthaveheardme,aswellasseenme.
“Goodmorning,”hesaidwithsuchabrighttoneitsetmyteethonedge Bryce’scommentonmaybenotarguingwithmy brotherspuninmythoughts,butCharleswasinhissuit,alldressedup,readyfortheflight,andIwasdone.
“Isit?Notformeitisn’tbecauseI’mnottheoneflyinguptoVancouver”Icouldn’tkeeptheedgeoutofmyvoice,couldn't maskmyjealousyandanger,andbitternesscoatedmywords.“Mustbenice,stillgettingtoplay.”
Charles,loadinghis gear,paused “Youwanttodothis now?”heasked,andturnedtofaceme,andfuck,helookedway moretiredthannormal.
“Dowhat?Railatthefuckingheavensthattheassholestookmycareerawayfromme.”
“Youdidthattoyourself,”hemurmured “Fuckyou,”Isnarled,andhisshouldershunched.
“How’sthetherapygoing?”
Hadhe really gonethere?“Andfuckthataswell,”Isnarled,temperandgriefwereanevilmixinmychest.
“It’sjust,Iwasdoingsomereading,andthought…look…haveyouconsideredtryingGamblersAnonymous?”
“No,”Isnapped,hatingtheideaofstrangerspokingintomylife.“Idon'tneedabunchofpeopleinmybusiness.”
“Then,doyouwanttotalktome?”Hesoundedhopeful,butthelastthingIwantedwastotalkaboutanythingwithCharles, unless itwas aboutsticks and pucks Ididn’tanswer, justhuffed anincredulous laugh “Icare,” he pointed out “I’ve done everythingIcanto ”
“Ididn'taskyoutoplaysavior,”Iretorted,thebitternessevident He’dpaidforthelawyersandthetherapy;Ilivedinhis poolhousefornothing;Ididn’twantanythingelsefromhim.
“I’myourbrother,andI’mjusttryingtohelp,”hesaid,andeventookastepcloser,hishandoutstretchedasifhewantedto hugmeorsomething.Nope.Nothappening.
“We’renotrealbrothers,”Isaid.Thewordstastedawful,andIregrettedtheminstantly,butpridekeptmesilent,theweight ofourshared,yetdivided,historyhangingheavyintheair TheZhangfamilymaywellhaveadoptedme,butthatdidn’tmean Charleswasmyblood.No,somewhereouttherewasmyrealfamily,andyeah,I’dneverwantedtofindthem,butIsometimes wonderedifwhoeverhadleftmecouldhavemadesenseofmyworld Theymightevenseethatnoneofwhathadhappenedto meinthelastyearwasmyfault.
CharlesstumbledbackasifI’dhithim,butcomposedhimself,tippinghischin.“You’vebeenmybrothersinceourparents adoptedyou So,I’mhereforyou,forwhateveryouneed,regardless”
Iturnedawaythen,theweightofoursharedpastandmyownanxietyandangertooheavytoconfrontinthecoldlightof dawn “You’renothelpingwhenallyou’redoingisdolingoutcharity,”Iretorted,myvoicerising “Idon’tneedit!”
Charles’sexpressionsoftened.“Butyoudo.”
“Icouldreallyhateyou,”Isnapped
Heshruggedthen.“AndIwill always loveyou,Michael.”
IgrumbledasIheadedinside,pickedupthemailonthemat,marketingflyers,andanenvelopewithmyaddressandname, butnoidentifyingmarks
Myheartstopped.
Notanotherone
500. Every Day. 500 more.
Andworse,rightonitsheels,therewasarecording Iplacedthephonetomyearandpressedplay
Myvoice,butthesecouldn’tbemywordstingedwithdesperationbeggingforjusttwentykmore.
Andsayinginnouncertainterms,I’dthrowagameagainstBoston.
Michael
Ideleteditstraightaway whatiftheteamheardthat,whatifCharlesheardit? Iwouldneverdothat.Icouldn’t…
Butthatwasclearlymeonthejumpyrecording,andIsoundeddrunk Anddesperate.
ANOTHER WEEK INTO THE GRIND, AND I WAS NOWHERE NEAR “FINDING MYSELF” OR WHATEVER ENLIGHTENMENT THE COURT promisedwouldcomefrommanuallabor Therecordingwasjustablurinmyhead,anothernailinmycoffinaseachdayhere was a tedious marathon, stretchingmypatience thin. Everymorning, I'd dragmyselfoutofthe pool house, to whatever car service Charles had organized for me inhis absence, waitingto take me for mycommunityservice The dirtunder mynails mocked me, a reminder I was grounded literally. The repetitionof planting, watering, digging, was monotonous. The sun wasn’tinvigorating,itwashot;andtheearthwasn’tnurturing,itwasdirty.Nottomentionpeoplekeptwantingtotalktome, askme questions about whatever greenthingI was planting, and I didn’t want to talkto people. I missed the ice, the cold clarityoftherink.Outhere,inthedirtandthesweat,Ifeltlikeastrangertomyself.
TakethisthingIhadinmyhand leafygreen-ness,check;rootstrappedinapot,check;someweird-assLatinname,check; BrycehoveringnexttomeincaseIkilledhispreciousbaby…triplecheck.Theplantwasoneofthoseabandonedthingsthat hadbeendonatedtothegarden,waypastaseedlingandpot-bound,andBrycewasgettingmetorescueawholewheelbarrow ofthirtyofthem.IfIhadtotakeaguess,itwassomekindoflessonformesoIcouldfeel someconnectiontoMotherEarth blahblah.
Oritwasawholerescue-a-plant-rescue-mething “Youdon’thavetowatchme,”Isaid.
Hedidn’tmove,andwhenIglancedhisway,hehadthatannoyingeyebrowthinggoingon
“Ido,”hesaid,andthatwasit,noexplanationaboutwhyhehadtowatchme,orwhetherIwasdoingrightorwrong,just thatsimpletwo-wordanswerthatwasinfuriating
“WhatdoyouthinkI’mgoingtodo?Stamponit?”
Hiseyebrowliftedahairhigher.“Areyougoingtostamponit?”
“What?No,ofcoursenot I’mnotdoingtimeforbeingaserialstamper”Iwasdisgruntled,butIswearhismouthtwitched then.“Areyoulaughingatme?”Ihatedbeinglaughedat,orasTherapistThreeputit,myaversiontocriticismwaslinkedto issueswithself-esteem Herwordsnotmine
IhatethatsheeventhoughtIdidn’thaveself-esteem IwasagoddamnNHLstarforfuck’ssake.
Anyway,noonelikestobelaughedat,andnoonewantstobecriticizedformessingup
“It’sjustthisimageofabigbadhip-checkinghockeyplayerstampingonateenytinyCapsicumannuum.”
IhuffedathisuseoftheLatinname,whenhecouldhavejustcalleditbywhatitwas agoddamnbellpepper.Howdidhe maketheseLatinwordssoundsosexy?
Shit,Ineededtogetlaid.
IgnoringBryce, I teased out the roots all cramped inthe pot, before layingthe babywithcare onone palm “Maybe it deservedtobestampedon.Maybethisinnocent-lookingwhatever-it’s-calledisactuallythekindofbellpepperthatbulliesall the other plants.” Iwas joking, and god knows where thatcame from, butBryce read somethinginto the words, as he was pronetodo.
“So,bulliesshouldbestampedintotheground?”hesummarized.
“Ididn’tsaythat”
“Physicalviolenceisnevertheanswer,”Bryceobserved.
IswearIwasthisclosetoshovingtheplantinhisface OnlyIdidn’t,becauseIwasthebiggerman,andIdidn’tresortto violenceunlessIwasstrappedtoskatesandneededtogettheteamawin.
“Woo Woo hippyMcDrippy,” Imuttered as he sauntered off. How could anyone so sexybe so self-righteous. Ibethe’d neverknownaday’sbadluckinhisentirelife.
Iwenttoacrouch,wideningtheholethechiliplantwouldgointo.IfollowedeverythingI’dbeentold,buryingituptothe baseofitsstemandwateringit,andthen,Iglancedaroundmetoseeifanywell-meaninggardenerswereinthevicinity Iwasalone,Ipattedthetinyplant.“Growbig.”
Then,withasigh,Imovedontothenextone
THE CAR SERVICE DROPPED ME AT THE SIDE GATE WITH THE CODE NO FRONT GATE FOR ME AND I HEADED PAST THE MAIN houseandthroughtheexpansiveyardtothepoolhouse Itwasmoreofagardenroomwithwoodensidingandwashot,plusit
wasattheoppositesideoftheyardtothepool,soyeah,weirdname.
Butitwashome,andIfumbledthekey,thenjuggleddinner Pringles andlockedmyselfinside.Theathleteinmecried thatIwasn’tsittingdowntoproteinandvegetables,thestubbornassinmewasallforeatingtheentiretubeofPringles,andI knewI’dhaveworktodogettingbacktofitnessfornextseason.
After all, Ihad no doubta teamoutthere would wantme for myskill witha stick, rather thanmylackofskill inpoker games.
IsentoffaquicktexttoPetra,agentextraordinaire,orratherex-agentextraordinaire
Michael: And?
Theanswerwasquick,andthesameasithadbeensinceshe’ddroppedme.
Petra: Not your agent Go away
MythoughtwasthatifIkeptthelinesofcommunicationopen,shewouldignorethefactshe’dleftmeandthrowmeabone. Afterall,whatagentwouldturndowntenpercentofmynextcontract?
Mybigcontract.Millions.
MaybenotwiththeStorm,butwithsomeone
I need to pay off Loopy for that recording. Irubbedmychestwhere ithurt Ididn’tremember sayinganyofthat,soit mustbesomeoneelse.
NothingcanfuckinghurtmebecauseIamMichael freaking Zhang
“Okay,let’sdothis,”Isaidtotheemptyroom,becausethatwaswhatanidiotdidwhenfacedwithsilence hetalkedto himself
Thegamebuildupstarted,theStormplayinginVancouver,andIscrolledmyphone,openingtheappstoreandfindingmy favoritebettingapp.I’ddeletedthemallbecauseTherapistOnesaidtheywerebadforme,backedupbyTherapistTwo,and thirdedbyTherapistThree.But,whatwouldithurttodownloadtheappandcreateanewaccount.Ididn’thavealotofmoney, allmycreditcardsweregone,myaccountsalltiedupwiththeagencythatCharleshadbroughtintomonitorwhatwasleftof mymoney
FuckingCharles.
Istillhadasmallallowance,ahundreddollarsorsoforemergencies,andthiswasasurething,right?TheStormwasthe betterteam,andevenwithoutme,theyweregoingtowin.
Justtendollars.
The addiction that had brought me so low was whispering promises of even greater highs, and fuck me, I was all too willingtolisten.
I SIGNED UP TO A NEW EMAIL ACCOUNT JUST TO USE ON THE APP, THEN STALLED AT THE FIRST HURDLE. I HAD TO TOP UP THE bettingaccount Thatwouldmeanmoneyleavingmyemergencyfund,whichCharleshadaccessto,becauseofcoursehedid Fuckhim.
Ipaidinfiftydollars,placedthebet,andshovedmyphoneunderacushion.Theoddswereokay,I’dplacedeverythingon theStormtowin,andIcouldalmosttastethehighofvictorywhenItripledthosefiftydollars
Charlescouldn’tcommentthatIwaswastingmoneyifIwasmakingmoney.
Only, I forced myself to forget about the bet whenthe Stormwas three goals downbythe end of the first period, and instead, focused on the camera close-ups of my brother. I could see Charles was fuming as he led the team off the ice, incandescentwithrage,andIcouldalmosttastetheangerthey’dbegettingthebruntofwhenthelockerroomdoorshut The Stormlooked beaten, chagrined, shadows ofthemselves, and for a briefmoment, Ifeltvindicated. Seeingthemtrail behind, flounderingagainstVancouver’sonslaught,Ifeltatwistedsenseofsatisfaction.Foryears,I’dbeenpartoftheirstrength,and therewasapartofmethatfeltjustifiedintheirlosswithoutmebeingthere thesameaseveryothertimeI’dwatchedthem loseinthelastthreemonths.
My second therapist said this was a way of coping with feelings of displacement and concluded that it showed I had underlyingissuesofself-worthoraneedforacknowledgment.Myfirsttherapisthadsaidprettymuchthesamething.
Mythirdtherapist thecurrentone,who’dbeenforcedtotakemeonbecauseitwasmandatedbythecourt suggestedit wasdeeperthanthat,andforamoment,I’dfelthappythatshe’dseenthroughTherapistOneandTwo’sbullshit.Then,she’d ruineditalltodaybysuggestingitlikelytiedtoabandonmentissuesfrombeingthrownawayasababy,andmaybe,weshould unpickmyfeelingsaboutbeingadoptedbytheZhangfamily
Nope.
Notdoingthat
Ineededtofindatherapistwhosawthe real me.
Theunluckymewhodidn’tdeserveanyofthisshit.
Meanwhile,theStormwerestruggling,andmyabsencehadbeennoticedbythepunditswho’ddissectedtheplayssofar,
deemedthemabysmal,andthen,launchedintohowmuchtheteamneededme.
ErikSolbergleanedintothemicrophone,hisvoicecarryingthedistinctivemelodyofhisNorwegianroots.“Youcan’tdeny they'vebeenofftheirrhythmwithoutMichaelZhang,”hesaid,hisanalysissharpandconcise
LiamTremblay,fellow pundit,andsomeonewho'dneverbrokenintotheNHL,nodded.“Yeah,Zeetooisn’tjustasecond liner;hewasthebackboneonthatrightwing”
“Stop calling me Zeetoo,” I mumbled at the screen. When I was growing up as Charles’s younger brother, the hockey nickname thesecondZhangbrother,Zhang-as-well becameZeetoo Whereothersthoughtthiswascute,Isawthe“too”part astwo,thesecondinfreakingeverything.Still,nicknamesstuck,andthatonewouldfollowmeuntiltheendofmynaturallife. Ormyhockeylifeanyway.
Erik was still talking, “ his absence is felt The second line’s just not generating the same pressure They need his aggressionandplaymakingability.”
The conversationdrifted to mysuspension, the elephantinthe room “Do youthinkwe’ll see himreturn?” Liammused, castingaspeculativeglanceatErik,wholeanedforwardinhischairasifhewasabouttosharethebestkindofgossip.
“It’s a toughone Zhang’s suspensionhas hitthe Stormhard More so givenhe’s the captain’s brother, butcomingback? Talent'sthere,noquestion,buttheseverityofwhathedid,andhowheleteveryonedown…wordisthatthere’snowayback forhim.Ican’tseehewill ”
Iswitchedthechannel
Whatdocommentatorsknowaboutanything,anyway?
Mycell vibrated, and Ipulled itoutfromits hidingplace to checkthe screen UnknownText, butIopened it, because I alwaysdid.
500 And 500 more Every day Just say yes
Ithrewthecellbacktothecushions Ididn’twanttobreaktheonlywayIcouldfollowtheresultsofthebet andignored thepointedmessage.
Loopywasremindingmethatthemoneytopayforhissilencewasincreasingbyfivehundreddollarsaday Notaweek.Aday.
Iburiedthefearagain,theadrenalineofthegambleonthewinwasenoughformetoforgetthetext,evenmoreso,whenI deletedit.
Imadeacoffee,openedthetubeofPringles,andheadedbacktotheTV,catchingashitloadofadsfornewcars,andthen, watchedtheteamscomebackoutontheice.
ThegrainyscreendidlittletocontainmyfrustrationasIcontinuedtowatchtheStormflounder.
“Come on!Whatwas thatpass?” Ishouted, myvoice ricochetingoffthe pool house walls Iwas onmyfeetnow, every fiberofmybeingwantingtobeonthatice,correctingthemistakes,rallyingtheteam.WhenPrezmissedwhatshouldhavebeen aneasyshot, myhand collided withthe wall “Jesus!You're better thanthis!” Iyelled, as iftheycould hear me after each missedopportunity,butIwaspowerlesstostopit.
As the third period started, the Storm looked like a different team, but so did Vancouver, relentless in their offense. “Defense!Watchthe No!”Igroaned,theStorm'sdefensefaltering,leavingPageautofendforhimself Thescreenflickered asifsympathizingwithmyagitation.
“Skate,Ashman,skate!”Ifoundmyselfcoachingfromthecouch,leapingtomyfeetwitheveryclosecall Whenthecamera pannedtomybrother’s face,his expressionwas flat.Iknew thatexpression Charles couldsense a loss,andifthe captain knewthegamewasdone,thenwhatweretherestoftheteamgonnado?
Theywouldn’trallyaroundacaptainwhoactedasifhe’dgivenup.
WherewasCharles’stemper?Wherewashisfire?
Twominutesleft,andtheStormhadclawedbackenoughtolevelatthreegoalseach “That'sit!Yes!”Icouldtastemywin the team’s win and Icheered, hands raised intriumphwitheachscore. Butas the buzzer signaled the end ofregulation time,Isankback,thehighofthecomebackmarredbythebittertasteofwhatwastocome
Overtimewasaknife-edge,andtheStormseemedblunted.Myshoutsgrewhoarser,urgingthemonthroughthescreen,but thefinalgoalfromPrez,stoppedfromVancouverwasapunchtothegut
IturnedofftheTV,thesilencepressingin.
I’dlostthefiftydollars.
RESTLESS,I HEADED INTO THE GARDEN, THE VAST SPACE FILLED WITH SCRUBBY BUSHES AND, NEAR THE HOUSE, KID’S TOYS, AND a bigwoodenclimbingframe I walked the balance bar, jumpingoff the end to land ina superhero pose “And the crowd roars!”Isketchedabowandchuckled.
“Iwishyouweren’there,”avoicesaidfrombehindme.
Iwhirledaroundtofacemysister-in-law,Clare.
Shewasleaningagainstthepatiodoor,herexpressioncoldinthefloodofthesecuritylight.“Iwishyouweren'tstayingin thepoolhouse,Michael.It’s…wrong.”SheandIhadneverseeneyetoeyeoverthings shekeptwantingmeatfamilyevents, butwhatsingleguywantedtoeatbirthdaycakeandpretendtohavefun?Maybeoneday,I’dsettledowntoit,butnotwhenI wasstillinmytwenties.
Ishrugged,tryingtomaskthestingofherwords “Idon'texactlylovethearrangementeither,Clare Butit’stemporary” “Temporaryornot,Charleshatesit!”
Myheartcrackedatthat He’dbeentheonetosuggestIstay “ItwasCharles’sidea ”
“Iheardthetwoofyou,fighting,andhedoesn’tdeservethatinhislife.”
“Hedoesn’tunderstand ”
“He’ddoanythingforyou,Michael,andyouthrowitbackinhisfaceeverysingletime”
“That’snotfair ”
“Youbeingheredisruptsourfamilyandupsetsthekids,”sheadded,hervoicesharp
Thatwasnewstome Ihadn’tevenseenmyniecestoupsetthem.“Idon’tspendtimewithyourkids,”Iretorted,andit wasclearthatwasthewrongthingtosay
“My kids?”shesaid,incredulous,“they’renotjust my kids.They’re your nieces,and you haven’tspokentothemsinceyou movedin.”
“See!HowcouldIhaveupsetthem,then!”
“Bynotgivingashitaboutthem,ortheirfather!”Clareyelled.
“Momma?”
ClarefrozeinhorrorandturnedtoseeaveryawakeHope,theoldestofmyniecesatjustoverfour.Ithink.Orfive?Maybe six?Shewaswaysmall.IknewGracewastwoyearsyoungerthanher,butthatdidn’thelpmetofigureitout.
Shewas wearingprincess PJs,andwithher tousleddarkcurls andhalf-awakegrumble,sheremindedmeofaminiature versionofherdad,andasIstartedtobackaway,notsurehowtoact,Clarescoopedherup.
“UncleRed!”Hopecalled,snugglingagainsthermomwhilefixinghersleepygazeonme UncleMichaelwastoomuchof a mouthful and had somehow become Red for myhair, whichfascinated her. I’d always made sure the birthdaycards Isent them,withagenerousamountofmoneyinside,ofcourse,hadsomethingredonthefront
Kindofanin-jokebetweenuncleandnieces.Right?
Iswallowedhard,managingasoft“Hiya,Hope,”whiletryingtochannelmybestUnclevoice theonefreeofcursesand anger,theonethatwouldn’tupsetanyone.
Andthen,beforeshecouldneedmeforanything,Isketchedawaveandhurriedbacktothepoolhouse.
Ihadessentialthingstodo,likecomeupwithareasonwhyI’dputfiftydollarsontoanapp,andthenlostthelot
Butmoreimportantly,IhadPringlestofinish.
