Then I see it, the flash of red on the ice, and the referees finally blow their whistles.
It takes forever, but finally one man with a medical bag makes it to Lex and starts helping him sit up. I want to cry, I want to jump over the twenty rows of fans and go to him, but Ruko grabs my arm and points up at the jumbotron, where they’re showing a replay.
I don’t want to fucking watch that again. But it’s not the fight they’re showing, it’s what happened before.
Lex’s own teammate pushed him into the goalie. My mind registers the number and name on that player’s jersey even without meaning to.
“Enough,” Ruko says, with a quiet kind of finality that’s somehow scarier than his scowl.
He pulls me up by the arm he’s still holding, and out of the suite, muttering words I can’t make out while I try to understandexactly what just happened. Austin follows us silently, and I wonder if he understands more than I do.
Shouldn’t be too hard because I don’t understand anything, but it stops mattering when Ruko pushes open a door and we walk into what looks like a mini doctor’s office.
Lex is on the examination bed, his head tilted back while who I assume is the team’s doctor gently prods his nose.
“Shit,” Lex hisses when his eyes connect with us. I’m not sure if it’s because the prodding hurts or because of our presence, but I get a pretty good idea the next second.
Ruko spins on his heel and somehow doesn’t bump into me as he marches right back out.
“Go with him!” Lex hisses.
I do what he says on autopilot, and feel Austin come with me when I follow the sounds of... breaking glass around the corner.
There’s a long concrete hallway lined with huge frames of pictures.
Pictures of hockey players scoring goals, celebrating, and Ruko has already smashed two by the time I understand what he’s doing.
A quick glance tells me he’s smashing every single picture he or Paul are in.
There are a lot of them, naturally, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to stop him.
He yanks a third frame off the wall just ten feet in front of me, and breaks it over his knee with another enraged growl.
“Ruko,” I shout, but it obviously doesn’t get through to him. He just keeps going, and I’m self-aware enough to know there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
But then two big security guards run past me and try to...
Yup, they’re idiots.
Austin steps forward, as if he’s getting ready to intervene, and I feel such deep appreciation for him in that moment. It’s sad that there’s no time to say anything. The security guards try to talk Ruko down, but he stares right at them while he breaks the fifth frame.
Two more men show up, and then one in a suit who looks like he thinks he has some authority.
“Mr. Jankowski, you’re breaking private property. Stop before we call the police.”
That . . . is the wrong thing to say.
Ruko whirls on him and points right at his face.
“You’re a fucking joke of a GM,Fred.” He says his name with derision. “And all those pictures have Paul’s or my face on them, and we’ve decided we’re done with this sorry excuse for a team. You’ve turned our legacy into a disgrace, and you don’t get to use us anymore. You won’t like the consequences if you try.”
He takes one step closer and looms over the... the GM. That’s the general manager, right? Well, whoeverFredis, he looks like he’s about to piss himself.
Good.
“Your actions have led to my son getting hurt.”
“Hockey is a contact sport—” he interrupts Ruko, which is very very stupid.
