Page 100 of Hockey Bois
“You think Jensie’s gonna get kicked out of the league? They got a pretty strict ‘no fighting’ rule.” Young Greg’s voice was low. He sounded like a kid worried his friend was going to get in trouble.
“Automatic suspension,” GG said solemnly. “No idea how long. Haven’t read that particular fine print.”
“Shit.” Young Greg offered a constipated smile to Nick. “You ready to try walking to the locker room, bro? Gail’s getting your stuff.”
“’mkay,” Nick said. His body stayed stubbornly still. “I need some help.”
“We got you, bro.”
Together, the three of them fumbled their way through undressing Nick. Gail shoved each recovered piece of gear into his bag and handed over the appropriate clothes.
“So, uh… he can’t drive home,” Young Greg said. “He should go to a doctor, right?”
“’m fine—”
“I got him.” Brady shouldered his way into the room. His right hand was wrapped loosely in a towel that was suspiciously red. Nick, not sure where the impulse came from or why he followed it, reached out to try and hold his hand.
“You ‘got him’?” Gail asked. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, make sure he doesn’t pass out or anything while I change. I’ll take him to Urgent Care.”
Gail looked at Brady like she was sizing him up and asked, “You sure you can drive with your hand like that?”
“It’s fine,” Brady said. He tried to wiggle out of his jersey, couldn’t with one hand, and reluctantly pulled at it with his injured one. He immediately winced, the awkward motion signaling how hurt he actually was, and again Nick reached out to hold Brady’s hand.
“Don’t look fine,” Young Greg said, then wilted when Brady glared at him.
“I got it,” he growled. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Not gonna fight you about it,” Gail said with her arms raised in surrender. “Maybe get them to take a look at your hand, too?”
Brady didn’t answer, just went about angrily tearing off his gear and throwing it into his hockey bag.
“What’s the verdict on the game?” GG asked. He was kneeling on the ground zipping up Nick’s hockey bag.
“Zam is cleaning up the blood. You guys’ll keep playing. Refs are on edge, so keep it clean and don’t start shit.”
“You suspended?” Gail asked. Nick was too out of it to judge if her tone was scolding or worried.
“Five games. It’s the minimum for punching a guy.”
“That’s all?”
Brady grunted as he pulled his elbow pad off his right hand. “Said they’d have to bring it up to the commissioner for review, but they’re gonna recommend five.”
“For breaking that guy’s nose?” Gail asked with both eyebrows raised.
“It’s not broken.”
“Lot of blood for ‘not broken.’”
“…it might be broken,” Brady admitted. “But yeah, they’re gonna try to keep it low. Something about it being provoked and me having no prior history. I don’t know. I wasn’t really listening.”
“That other guy get anything?” Young Greg asked.
“He got a broken nose,” GG offered. “And maybe some sense not to do that shit.”
“Amen,” Brady said and roughly closed up his gear bag. “How’s Nicki?”
