Page 87 of Hard Hitter
“Okay,” Tom said quickly. “When’s the last time you took one?”
He thought back. “When did I play at Denver?”
“Hang on.” He heard the clicking of a keyboard. “February second.”
“That’s the night. We went to Phoenix after that, and my stash was fresh out.”
Tom sighed. “So that’s... more than six weeks.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Anything else in your bloodstream that you wouldn’t want written up in thePost?”
“No sir. Unless they’re testing for Scotch whiskey.”
His agent was quiet for a moment. “Okay, man. Here’s what I need you to do—deny this completely. Whatever the picture looks like, it’s not you in it. Or itisyou, but you’re paying for a lap dance or some shit. Just deny anything to do with drugs.”
“You think that will work?”
“That stuff is only testable for a few days. A week, tops. But,shitDoulie. Buying at anightclub?Worst idea I ever heard. Those places thrive on blackmail. They don’t make all their money selling overpriced martinis.”
Jesus. “Not exactly skilled at breaking the law, Tommy. Only bought the one time.”
“Once?” His agent made a noise of pain. “Then you are one unlucky bastard. You can’t trust anyone, okay? There’s something you think you need, you tellme. I’ll find a guy to get it to you.”
Oh my fucking god. Now his agent was offering to be his dealer? That was not what he expected to happen. “Are you positive I can’t be nailed on a drug test? Should I just offer to take one to clear the air?”
“If you’re sure you’ve got the timing right. And if you’re sure your club won’t just lie about your results.”
O’Doul flinched. If they wanted to put him out to pasture, he’d just made that really easy for them. “Hugh won’t dothat,” he decided. “He’s not an asshole, and it would make the team look bad. I think Hugh wants to help me.”
“Careful,” Tom said. “The only person you can trust is me, because our interests are completely aligned. But Hugh doesn’t have the luxury of being loyal. Give your team a flat-out denial, and offer a test. They might not even test you. In the first place, there’re more recreational drugs in hockey than you can shake a hockey stick at. And Hugh doesn’t want to start a real witch hunt. Nobody will end up looking good.”
“All right. But forget Hugh for a second. What can the league do to me?”
“Nothing, except test you if they feel like it. But they can’t test the whole team until the postseason, no matter what the newspaper prints. Now let me go so I can call Hugh on your behalf as soon as we hang up. Don’t forget the party line—whatever they think those pictures show, they’re crazy. And that’s all we have to say on the subject.”
“All right.”
“Stay strong, man. We’ll get through this. They’ll be offering you a contract extension in July like we need ’em to.”
“Thanks.”
They hung up. O’Doul went back into the bathroom and shut the water off. But he didn’t turn his phone on. Whatever it was that people had to say to him, he wasn’t ready to hear it. He needed to cool his heels while Tom dealt with Hugh and the team.
It was lunchtime, so he went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Then he caught himself just standing there, staring.
Don’t trust anyone, Tommy had said. The man was right, too. His whole life he’d been fending for himself. No family. Even though it sometimes felt as though the team was his family, it wasn’t really true. If he let them down, he’d be out on his ass.
He slammed the fridge and went to lie down on his sofa.It was so fucking quiet in his apartment. The silence had never bothered him before, but now it seemed oppressive.
Naturally his thoughts went to Ari, as they so often did lately. Today or tomorrow she’d hear about this. She’d see the story in the newspaper or hear it whispered at work. She’d think,What an idiot. There’s a bullet dodged.
And she’d be right.
