Page 216 of The Maxwell Brothers
That made Joe light up. He gave me a thumbs-up. "Yeah. Let's do that, man. Down with the Dogs."
I went back to the crease, moving from left to right, staying as limber as possible. I was blocking everything in sight, and I knew I had to build my mental strength. When a goalie managed to stop every puck that got in his way, there was only one thing to do: distract him, attack him, shift his focus. You couldn't beat a team if you couldn't score.
During the next TV timeout, I skated close to my bench. Steve was there drinking a swig of water.
"Good game, man," he said. "Not sure we'll win this one, but it won't be for your lack of trying."
"We'll win," I assured him.
"Really? Are you sure of that, Maxwell?"
I turned around. Adrian stopped in front of us.
"We don't need your commentary," Steve said, rising from the bench.
"Why not? I can congratulate you on your game."
"No you can't. You‘re being a jackass, so what's your angle today?" I asked.
"That pretty girlfriend of yours."
"Leave her out of it," I said, not intending to say any more. Kendra was none of his fucking business.
"Maybe I won’t. What kind of work did she do in thatdingy dinerwith thesleazy boss? By the looks of her, a stripper. Or something more? She seems willing enough, jumping up and down like a fucking puck bunny. Maybe she's tired of you and wants to give one of us a spin."
Now that pissed me off. I thought Adrian appeared to have been eavesdropping on me and Steve before the game started, and apparently he’d listened to every word.
"Shut your mouth," I said through gritted teeth.
"Maybe I'll take your wife for a spin too,Captain." He said “Captain” like it was a curse word. "She's been looking so sad lately that I think she needs a good fucking, and you aren't up for the job."
The next few minutes were a blur. I wasn't even sure who started the fight. It was probably me or Steve. But within seconds, it escalated the way it usually did in hockey. Our whole team came to stand behind us, and that’s when the Dogs’ team lined up too.
And then it turned into a shit-show.
Five minutes later, we were headed to the locker rooms during another intermission. Coach was furious at what happened, though none of us felt great about what went down. Most of us needed to find our gloves, and change ripped jerseys—it was a brawl, all right. I took off my helmet, holding it in the same hand as my stick. We went through the tunnel to the locker room. The press with special passes were there launching question after question at us.
“We’ll talk to you after the game,” Steve told them.
“Give us something,” one reporter said.
We kept going and hurried to the changing room. Steve and I were the last ones in, and I did a double take when I noticed Daniels.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. We already had Coach giving us an earful.
I exchanged a glance with Steve, and both of us nodded. We were going to stay back. Coach didn’t want anyone except the team in the locker room at intermission, not even our manager.
“What the hell happened out there?” Daniels said to Steve and me.
Neither of us responded.
"What the hell happened out there?" he asked again, his anger radiating off his skin.
"Adrian was running his mouth," I said.
He narrowed his eyes. "You're not a rookie. You know the deal. That stuff happens. It's not the first time he’s done it. You’ve always been good at ignoring this shit."
Before now, it never affected me. Some players always played dirty, even verbally attacking family to get under the opponent’s skin. But I'd never had anyone else to care about—not until Kendra. That was why it had been so easy to let it all slide by me.
