Page 39 of Revenge Puck

“It’s just hair,” I assure him as I rub my hand over the closely shaved beard along my jaw. “Could you help me record a video?”

“Ah, sure. What’s it for?”

“To call pricks out for being assholes.”

“Ah. Sounds fun.” I offer him my phone that he takes gingerly, holding it like it’s made of glass. “So, just record you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

Once he gives me a nod, I stand there and launch into what I would like to say to each and every asshole out there.

“So, I’ve seen and had to delete some comments from my girl Elle’s page that really piss me off. That’s why I’m saying knock it off before I start knocking out some of ya’lls teeth. Stop this shit and leave Elle alone. Say whatever the hell you want about me, I don’t care. Just leave my beautiful girl out of it from now on. Thanks.”

I slice my finger across my neck for Spence to stop recording. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah, man. I got it,” he says when he hands the phone back to me. “And I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in years,” he remarks.

“I don’t like to run my mouth unless it’s important.”

“Like telling us all how much we suck in drills?”

“Some of ya’ll have been slacking off at practice and you know it, staying up too late, partying. We’re professionals. The few lucky SOBs that get paid to play a game we love. But our job is still to show up and train hard so we can win games.”

“Right. Yeah. But some of us like having a life outside of the arena.”

“I have a life outside of hockey,” I huff.

“You do?” he asks, not sarcastically, but as if he’s genuinely asking. “You come to practice, games, then leave. Last night was the first time you even attempted to hang out with us, and you left as soon as that girl did.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So, give the guys a break. Everyone handles the pressure of the game differently. Some drink, some fuck, or some, like you, are all work and no play. That’s a good way to burn out.”

“I’m not even close to getting burnt out,” I tell him. “That will never happen.”

“Hopefully not. Will you at least go easy after we take the trophy home?”

“I’ve already won a championship with Wisconsin,” I remind him.

“Well, other than Nick, the rest of us haven’t, jackass!”

My eyes narrow, jaw and fists clenching at the insult.

Spence puts up both of his palms in front of his face and says, “Hit me if you want, but it’s the truth. You act like you’re the only one on the ice who has people counting on you. The first thing I bought when I signed last year was a house for my mom. She stands around for twelve hours a day in a fucking nasty ass poultry plant, six days a week. If I could become a starter, maybe she could finally leave that damn place behind.”

“Sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

“That’s right, Pres, you don’t know what the rest of us have riding on us to succeed, especially the backups. You were lucky enough to become a starter your first season. You don’t know what it’s like wishing and hoping for a chance to prove yourself, and feeling like shit because you know the only way you’ll probably get a chance in the spotlight is if another teammate gets hurt.”

“The spotlight isn’t all you think it is,” I mutter.

“At least you’ve experienced it. Most of us haven’t. Only you and Nick have ever held that damn trophy we’ve only dreamed of. The rest of us want our chance just as much as you do, if not more.”

“I get it,” I tell him. “I’ll…try not to be such a dick.”

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