Page 22 of Omega’s Forward

But his name never even came up.

“Come on, Callahan. I told you you’re buying.”

“And I will be. Give me ten. I’ll meet you there.”

I wait until they are gone before I go find Sacco. He’s in the equipment room with a clipboard.

“Coach.”

“Callahan.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask.”

“Rourke. Him and Gordie. What was the story there?”

Sacco stops writing. He turns round and looks at me and does not say anything for a while, and I stand there and let him.

“Why do you want to know?”

“The room’s upset. I’m the captain.”

“The room being upset doesn’t need Gordie’s family history.”

“No.”

“So why do you want to know?”

I have nothing. I stand in the doorway of the equipment room with nothing to say and Sacco watches me have nothing to say.

“He’s a cold little shit,” he says eventually. “That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s it?”

“What else do you want.”

“I don’t know. Something.”

“There isn’t any something.” He puts a stick in the rack. “That’s the story. Go and have your drink.”

So I go. I don’t know why I care. I get in the car.

McNally’s is two blocks from the arena and has been the team bar since before I got here.

Everyone is there by the time I arrive. JP, Linus sitting stiff and careful around his taped ribs, Lewis, the two young defensemen, Tuck, and Marchetti who never drinks and comes anyway.

I get a round in and sit down and let it go on around me.

It takes about forty minutes to get to Everett.

“I’m just saying it out loud,” Ozzy says. “Two years. He said two years and then he sells. He said that in front of all of us.”

“He did say that,” Tuck says.

“So what are we doing? What is the point of any of this if the guy who owns us doesn’t give a shit?”

“We’re doing our jobs,” JP says.