Page 3 of Off-Ice Misconduct
“Hooked us up with a few kegs,” Jonah says. “And for some of the flashier drinks, I’ve got a shit ton of tequila, vodka, gin, and sugary stuff to mix it with.”
This isn’t just the first-weekend-back-at-school opener, but thehockey-seasonopener. Our first game, which is an exhibition game against North Point Military Academy—as per tradition—won’t be until the first week of October, but we’re back to practice, and that’s enough to count. It’s also the last year for some of us, so it’s got to be epic.
“Let’s get a float. The hockey team’ll come out dressed as Spartans.”
“Uh, think we need a permit for that?”
“No problem. I’ll have it by tomorrow.” Somehow, between all the other shit I need to do.
“The ladies over at Delta Gamma wanna know if the team’s dropping by for their wine and cheese event tomorrow, Cap. What should I tell them?”
Delta Gamma was my mom’s sorority when she went here. I don’t have the time to attend, but I’ve got to find a way to support them. Every frat event is a house and or charity fundraiser in some way. It takes a lot of money to keep us going. The fees and dues aren’t enough.
“We’ll be there. Tell them we’ll bring the pasta alla ruota.”
Okay, add “find giant cheese wheel” to my long list. I’ll make it happen. Life is about living. Who needs sleep?
I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
2
Luke
Are they some kind of … gang? A cluster of large guys wearing the same letter jackets is sprawled across one of the long benches outside in the courtyard, eating as if it’s their last day on earth. The sheer amount of food at that table. It could feed a small country.
Hmm. Nope, not a gang, just the school’s hockey team.
Great. Large testosterone-filled boys who think they’re king shit. By the looks of things, they’re not wrong. Bet the school perpetuates that stereotype, catering to their egos.
It’s Friday, and I should have started here on Monday, but I was a last-minute add to the professor roster so they were stuck waiting until I could get here. A, I didn’t want this job. B, I didn’t want thisfuckingjob, and C, I tried to turn down this fucking job, but my younger brother’s the coach of those hooligans, and he needed my help.
Oh, and I guess, D, I have a soft spot for my younger brother. One inconveniently permanent. We were orphaned young—eight and six—because apparently we were part of that well-known animated childhood tragedy formula. Except instead of woodland creatures and singing teapots, we got militant Uncle Jasper. He ran his home like a prison yard and believed affection was something you earned. Tate became mine to protect, and I guess I never figured out how to stop.
“They can’t find a senior English professor,” he explained.
“Why?”
“It’s because of my team,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, they’re good kids, but like all college guys, they like to have a little fun. You should see ‘em on the ice. They really give it their all. Hardest working sons of bitches.”
Yeah, because he wouldn’t expect any less, and Coach is God in the eyes of a hockey player.
“The English professor has trouble keeping them in line?”
“I guess so? Don’t really know. Just that they quit every year. We can’t find anyone to fill the position permanently, but if you took the position…”
Classic Tatum. Setting up a situation for his benefit. As per usual, I had a hard time saying no to him, even though I could smell a rat.
“Why me?”
“C’mon, Luke. You eat kids like them for breakfast. I need someone as hard on them in class as I am on the ice. Then I won’t have to stress about them not making their grades every semester. I’ve got enough to do without having to babysit them.”
So, he wanted me to babysit them for him.
“There’s something else,” I said. “Tell me the truth, or you can fucking forget it.”
Tatum gave me the same hard-edged, petulant pout he always had when he was trying to get away with something, and I caught him in the act. Even though he’s two years younger, I had to semi-raise him, so, he looks to me for help. But while my morals might differ from the majority of society in ways thatmight be considered gray, I still have them, and I don’t break them.
“I want to get on the conference committee because I’m aiming for Commissioner of the Pacific College Athletic Conference.”
