He skated off before I could protest further.
I stood in the tunnel with my phone in my hand and tried to figure out how to explain this to my mother. Hey, Ma, remember those hockey players you fed yesterday? They just gave you six VIP tickets to a playoff game. No big deal.
She answered on the first ring. “Dante? Are you okay? Should you be calling? Shouldn’t you be—”
“I’m fine, Ma. Listen, do you want to come to the game tonight?”
Silence.
“Ma?”
“Tonight? Dante, tickets are— We looked, they’re hundreds of dollars, being the playoffs, and with Marco’s mortgage and Nicky’s—”
“They’re free. Team’s giving them to me. VIP suite. You, Marco, his family, Nicky, whoever he wants to bring. Can you make it?”
Another silence. Then: “Are you sure? That’s too generous, we can’t—”
“You can. Max insisted. Please, Ma. I want you here.”
I heard her voice crack slightly. “We’ll be there. Let me call your brothers.”
“Tell them to bring something nice to wear. They’re meeting all the team after.”
“Meeting all the— Dante Michael Russo, are you serious?”
“Dead serious. Love you, Ma.”
“I love you too, baby. We’ll be there.”
I hung up and stood in the tunnel and settled. My family was coming. They were going to watch from a VIP suite, and my brothers were going to meet the team, and for the first time in two months, I felt like maybe I actually belonged here. In two years, Chicago had never offered me that. Sure, Marco and Nicky had come alternately, sometimes Mom had.
The suite was on the club level, glass-fronted with a perfect view of the ice. Free food and drink. I found them just before puck drop—my mom in the good coat she wore to church, Marco in a button-down with his wife Lucia beside him and their son Anthony bouncing with barely contained excitement. And Nicky.
Nicky had brought someone.
“Dante!” My mom pulled me into a hug that made my ribs hurt. I didn’t say anything. “Look at you in a suit. So handsome. How do you feel?”
“Fine, Ma. Better.”
Marco shook my hand, then pulled me into a one-armed hug. “Heard you got jumped. You okay?”
“Three on one. They got arrested.”
“Good.” Marco had that big-brother sound that suggested if they hadn’t been arrested, he would have handled it personally. “This is insane, by the way. VIP suite? Meeting the team? You trying to make us look bad?”
“Just trying to share the perks.”
Marco sent him a level look, and I flushed. Both my brothers were well aware I’d already shared financial perks. But growing up, neither had resented all the time and money it had taken, so it was the least I could do. Anthony’s college fund was already taken care of.
Lucia kissed my cheek, careful of the bruise. “We’re so proud of you.”
Anthony, who was seven and apparently made entirely of energy, grabbed my arm. “Uncle Dante, can I meet the players? Can I get an autograph? Can I go on the ice?”
“Maybe the first two,” I said. “Not the third tonight, but I’ll take you another day.”
Then Nicky stepped forward, and I got my first good look at his plus-one.
The guy was maybe early-fifties, average height, average build, the kind of appearance that didn’t draw attention. He had dark hair, an easy smile, and was wearing dress pants and a jacket that suggested he had money but didn’t need to advertise it. Something about him made my instincts twitch, though I couldn’t have said why.
