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I knew there was going to be trouble as soon as I got back to the trailer. It was a triple-wide and a place I tried my best to avoid, only returning for a quick sleep three or four nights a week. The other days, I slept in the team locker room, and used the shitty showers at school after practice and ate whatever I could get my hands on.
“So, the golden boy’s decided to return?” Uncle Jack’s slurred voice met me as soon as I stepped inside.
Golden boy, Jack’s nickname for me. It was a whole lot better than the nickname my first foster parents had given me, but his tone made it clear he was being sarcastic as hell. It started after the local newspaper ran an article calling me a golden boy –in relation to hockey, of course. I’d never been good at anything else. Except working for Uncle Jack, I supposed. He liked the fact that he sent his golden boy out to do his dirty work.
He sat at the scarred dining table, a light swinging slightly over his head. The smell of cheap vodka hung in the air. Jack’s drugs of choice were alcohol and violence. He never sampled his own supply. He’d seen too many men lose everything that way, and Uncle Jack was determined to remain at the top of the filthy heap.
He pushed the bottle toward me. “Drink?” His beady eyes were already glazed and bloodshot. He was lanky, preferring drinking over eating, but alcohol gave him a puffiness that looked uncomfortable. His T-shirt was unclean, and his fingers were stained with years of tobacco use. His mean, rat-like face was fixed in my direction.
“Not for me. I’m beat. I just need to sleep.” I turned away from him and walked toward the fridge.
Jack chuckled, but the sound lacked amusement. “Is that right? Tired yourself out in Hade Harbor, did you? Wasting all day lounging about in the bougie town, playing with yourself for your new coach?”
I froze with my hand on the fridge. He knew about Hade Harbor? I’d been so careful, and yet he already knew. I forced myself to reach into the fridge and grab a bottle of water. I took a quick swig and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, fighting for calm.
“Huh?” It was the best I could do right now.
Jack laughed again. “So, we’re feigning ignorance? Okay, great. You tell me where you were all day then? Where were you when I needed you?”
“What did you need me for?”
“That fucker, Lewis, who owns the bar on Fifth, missed his payment, and he beat up the guy I sent for it.”
“Well, that’s not my job--Lewis isn’t on my list. It’s not my fault your other guys can’t fight for shit.”
Jack studied me and then threw his glass in a sudden burst of energy. It smashed into the cupboard right beside my head, showering me with splinters. I didn’t flinch. I’d lost the ability to be surprised. It had been beaten out of me too many times.
“Don’t talk back to me, boy. You know who the boss is around here, you know who you belong to. I’ve got enough on you to put you away for years, never mind playing hockey for a living. Did you forget?” Jack pushed himself to his feet. He sauntered toward me, unintimidated by my superior height and muscle. Of course, he didn’t need to beat me to threaten me. He wasn’t lying; he had evidence of plenty of the illegal shit I did in his name. Starting from the night we’d met, he’d been keeping a record on me that would never die—not until he did.
Tonight, however, my temper felt dangerously close to the surface. He was threatening the only thing I cared about.
“Look, I’ve put my time in and more than paid back anything I might owe you for the last ten years.”
“Your debt to me can’t be measured in money, boy, and you know it. I saved your life. If I hadn’t taken you in when I did, where do you think you’d be now?”
I swallowed hard, anger, guilt, and a healthy dose of fear crawling up my throat. I still couldn’t think about that night without feeling the same fear I’d felt at eight –years old. I was stuck in that moment, forever a terrified child realizing he’d just set his future on fire.
“Jack—” I let out on an exhale.
He stepped closer, squaring up to me. “What do you think Coach Williams will think about your past? Or your reputation, for that matter? You weren’t just a fucked up kid, were you? You’re a fucked up man now, and people like you and me don’t change. He won’t want you around his team, or in his town… near his daughter… Bad things happen to good, innocent folks who take in bad eggs like you—”
He hadn't finished talking before my fragile patience snapped. I grabbed him, hauling his heavy, alcohol-bloated frame to my chest.
He’d been expecting it, clearly. He had something hard in his fist, and his first two blows to my side knocked the wind from my lungs. I released him, seeing the glint of the brass knuckles he’d slipped on.
“You think you can take me, boy? Let’s go. Let’s see, once and for all.”
Jack stepped back and pulled a knife from his other pocket. He hefted it as my gaze fixed on the blade.
“I win, you stay and put thoughts of Hade Harbor and Coach Williams out of your head.”
“And if I win?”
Jack only laughed. “Not going to happen.”
Then he lunged.
