Page 37 of Drop the Gloves
“I dunno about that—” Evan stuttered.
“You’re good,” Vassiliev said firmly.“Just young.This is a good chance for you to prove yourself.Take it.”
“He will,” Barczyk said dismissively, like he didn’t doubt it for a second.Evan appreciated the vote of confidence.“I’ll try to draw some penalties for you.Give you a chance to show off.”
“Don’t,” Vassiliev said.
Barczyk sighed dramatically.“Fiiine, but I can’t promise I won’t take any.”
“I know you can’t,” Vassiliev said.“You know, there’s no award for most penalties.”
“The boos and cheers from the crowd are the only reward I need.”
“Pretty shitty reward.I want to play!The more penalties you get, the less our line is out.”
As Vassiliev and Barczyk continued to rag on each other, Evan sat back and enjoyed it.He realized he was smiling fondly.He wiped the smile off his face and scowled.He didn’t want it to look like he was encouraging Barczyk’s recklessness.Or that he liked Barczyk.Or that he was finding Barczyk’s enthusiasm infectious.
Vassiliev disappeared a few minutes later, his shoulders hunched and feet dragging as he left the locker room.Evan expected Barczyk to leave with him, but he lingered while Evan finished changing out of his gear.
“I know you’re probably not as exhausted as us peons who skated until our feet were bleeding,” Barczyk said.Evan made the mistake of looking down and saw Barczyk’s bare toes in a pair of flip-flops.He wasn’t sure why the image made him gulp.“But if you’re looking for more fighting practice, we should figure it out before this homestand ends and we've gotta fly out to Cali.”
“Oh.Yeah.”He scratched at the back of his neck.“Look, I don’t know?—”
“I got time next week.We can do it after practice any day.”Barczyk pushed up and stretched, the bottom of his shirt pulling up to reveal a few inches of skin.It seemed more scandalous than if he had had no shirt at all.“Just lemme know when you’re up for it.”
Then he walked away twirling his keys on his finger and whistlingBarbie Girl.Not once did he look back at Evan, like he didn’t care what Evan’s answer was.
Or like he knew Evan would give in.
“I won’t,” he told himself as he grabbed his stuff and headed for the showers.“I don’t need Barczyk’s help.”
Maybe if he said it enough, he’d convince himself.
18
There weretwo games left before they traveled out west, and looking ahead at the Riveters’ schedule, they wouldn’t be spending much time in Pittsburgh until late December.So if Evan could just avoid Barczyk for the next week, maybe this fighting thing would blow over.As long as it didn’t come up in a game (aka he didn’t get his ass kicked), he could argue he didn’t need any more lessons.
It was a bit of a shame, though.Everything he’d worked on with Barczyk was useful.Evan might never fight in a game again, but if he did, he had some strategies he could use to hold his own.And it was kind of fun.The practice, not real fights.Those were stressful.Tragically, Evan didn’t hate spending time with Barczyk.He maybe kind of enjoyed it.
That was the problem.He enjoyed it too much.
They were playing the Nevada Scorpions in a Sunday matinee game.Evan loved home matinees.Late games meant late nights, especially with media coverage or travel to hotels.He’d be in his own bed by 9 p.m., with Netflix on and takeout in hand, fully rested for their morning skate the next day.
“Nevada plays an aggressive game,” Coach Jack said in the locker room.“Be ready to get pushed.Don’t let them goad you into playing anything other than our game.”
“He means you, Barzy,” someone called, and everyone laughed.
Coach Jack looked unamused.“We are drawing penalties tonight,” he said, enunciating each word, “not taking them.”He never looked Barczyk’s way, but they all knew the warning was only for one person in the room.“Get this win at home.They’re gonna be a lot harder to get once we start traveling.I want higher than a wild-card seed this year, boys.Get it done.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“You going to listen to him?”Vassiliev muttered under his breath once Coach Jack had left.
“I’m never trying to go to the box,” Barczyk said indignantly.“The refs got it out for me, I swear.”
“Might be your reputation,” Evan said.“Preceding you and all that.”
“What are you implying, Abs?”he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
