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I reached up and plucked the monocle from his eye, threw it to the ground and stomped on it.
“Finally,” Jago said. “Been waiting for someone to do that.”
“Atlas, don’t mind Rome,” Henry said to me. “He thinks his dick and his hockey stick are the same thing.”
“I never stop scoring either,” Rome said. “And I always come prepared.”
Rome stepped away from me and reached into his pocket.
He took out another monocle.
This one he put against his left eye.
I took a step toward him and Joe put an arm out.
“Focus, Atlas,” he said. “You’ve got a big night ahead of you.”
“Do you want to swallow your own jaw?” I offered.
“We can talk about that later,” Joe said. “Right now you need to play your part.”
“How the fuck does this help the team?”
“It doesn’t,” Sebastian said. “But we all pay our dues. You have an easy one.”
“A date is an easy one?” I asked.
“Fuck yeah it is,” Rome said. “Imagine if you get some hot and horny hockey babe…”
“And even if it’s someone you don’t click with, who cares?” Jago asked. “You can just show up, take a few pics, have something to eat, and call it a night. This is easy.”
“Then trade with me, Jago,” I said.
“You were the one they chose, brother,” Jago said with a smug grin.
“I’m not wearing the fucking tux!” I roared.
I heard a chuckle to my left.
“Hey, CoachDetom,” Rome said.
“What the hell do you have stuck to your eye?”
“Don’t even ask him,” Henry said.
Coach Detom. Denny Tomans.
Tall. Skinny. Glasses. A clean-cut face. Narrow eyes.
He looked like the kind of guy you could take down in a second, but he had a reputation. He played for years. Traveled around like I did. And he loved to fight and was good at it. In fact, after he retired from hockey he got into boxing and went undefeated before coming back to hockey as a coach.
The guys all called himDetom.
“Atlas,” he said.
“Coach,” I nodded.
“Do me a favor.”
