Page 68 of Puck Sweat Love

Dan pitches the can, making Garcia flinch slightly as it skitters across the floor, into the corner. “Sure did.” Dan ambles back toward the table. “But I’ve never met that guy. Or, I don’tthinkI have…” He rests a hand on the duffle bag. “Though I guess youcouldconvince me different. If you really wanted to.”

Garcia’s expression shifts, calculation replacing confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dan’s lips curve in a hard smile. “I mean I could say I know him. I could even say I sell him pills on the regular. Hell, for the right price, I’ll say he gave me a blow job for coke and begged me to take his ass in that corner over there.”

Steph’s head rears back beside me with a soft, “ew.”

“Told you he was good,” Stone says, taking another tense pull on his beer.

“He’s going to go for it,” Cruise whispers, knee jogging with an anxiety I feel echoed in every whip-tight muscle in my body. “This is it. Just take the bait you shitty little shit fuck.”

Garcia shifts his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’d have to come to a meeting. Like, at the stadium, with the coach and whatever staff members they want there to hear your story. And you’d have to be convincing. If we don’t have video, it’s on you to sell it.”

“I can sell it,” Dan says without hesitation. “For two grand. Cash. Half now, half when it’s done.”

Garcia props his hands on his hips and all of us lean toward the screen, tension crackling through the room as we hold our collective breath. Part of me still doesn’t believe Garcia will actually go through with it—that evenhehas limits to how low he’ll sink.

And to how stupid he is.

After all, without a positive drug test, even an alleged “eye witness” to my illegal drug use isn’t going to get him anywhere. It’ll still be one person’s word against the other, and everything from a blood test to a piss test to hair analysis is going to come back clean.

Either he really thinks I’m using and this gamble is going to pay off, or he’s dumber than I thought.

But then…he pulls out his wallet. “I’ve only got five hundred on me. So, five hundred now, and the rest after? I’m good for it.”

Dan nods. “Sure. You’ve got a trustworthy face.” He smiles. “And if you try to fuck me over, it’s not like I don’t know where you work.”

Garcia exhales a rough laugh as he starts laying bills on the table. “Yeah. Sure. But like I said, I’m good for it. I promise.”

Stone fist-pumps the air with a victorious roar, while Justin points a finger at the screen, shouting, “Boom, Garcia. You just fucked yourself, asshole.”

I curse beneath my breath, not realizing I’m shaking until Steph squeezes my hand as asks, “You okay?”

I nod, but before I can speak, Garcia adds, “Here’s our assistant GM’s card. Just call, ask for Jim Hartley, and tell him you’ve got info on one of his players. You can say you’re coming forward because you love the Badgers and don’t want them to have a shit season because of some druggie on their roster. Tell him you’ve been selling to LiBassi for weeks, but he’s really been hitting it hard since camp started. You could even say you’re worried about him overdosing or something and that’s part of it.”

“Because I’m a dealer, but not a monster,” Dan says with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Garcia says, joining in.

Dan lifts a hand in the air between them. “Cool, bro, I got you. Good doing business with you. I’ll get it done, and we’ll meet back here for the second payment next week.”

Garcia clasps the guy’s hand like they’re old friends. “Sweet. Sounds good. Appreciate the help, man. Catch you later.”

“What in the gluten-free, deep-fried fuck is wrong with this dipshit?” Justin mutters, shaking his head. “I hate this guy.”

“I do, too,” Steph seethes beside me. “And I try really,reallyhard not to hate people for personal, professional, and karmic reasons. But this guy…”

“He can get all the way fucked,” Stone says.

“With a rusty crow bar,” I agree as Garcia, apparently satisfied with the amount of life-wrecking he’s put in motion for the evening, heads for the exit. “With no lube.”

“Not even a dollop of lube,” Steph adds.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Dan turns to one of the hidden cameras and shoot us a triumphant thumbs up.

That’s when the reality of it all finally hits, I guess, because suddenly the apartment erupts in cheers and laughter.

“Yass! In the bag, baby,” Cruise shouts, surging off the couch with his arms in the air. Stone leaps to his feet, too, grabbing Cruise in a bear hug as they jump around like they just won the Stanley Cup. I turn to Steph, hugging her tight and spinning around until she’s giggling so hard that I start laughing, too.

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