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Luke's sister is cute, but if she knew how twisted and tainted I am on the inside, she'd run screaming. The whole family would. If they knew how fucked up I am, they'd be disgusted with me. If they'd known one of my dad's girlfriends used to jerk me off in my bedroom when I was fourteen while my dad was passed out in the next room, they'd have thrown me out of their house. Even I was disgusted with myself. I didn't know any better. I was just a kid, but the sick part of me enjoyed it.
If the Valentines knew that when I turned fifteen, as a birthday present, that same woman—twice my age—spread herself out naked on my bed and taught me how to fuck, they'd be sick. I knew it was wrong, and looking back I can't even tell you how it happened. I just know I didn't say no. I might not have wanted to fuck my dad's girlfriend, but a big part of me wanted to punish him before I left to play junior hockey.
When I was drafted into the Ontario Hockey League, girls begged me to fuck them. And I did. I'd finally left this shit town and my deadbeat dad and started living in a city where people adored me. I'd happily take any willing female to bed. I fucked my billet family's daughter, and when her mom wanted in on the action, too, I let her and went behind everyone's back. I was almost sixteen, angry and horny, and Anna was hot. At that age, pussy is pussy, even if it's twenty years older than you.
Our secret lasted two years, and when we were caught it was a shit show. I was traded out of the organization and labelled a 'troubled player.' I lied about when the relationship started and took most of the heat, but I didn't care. I was already drafted by the Florida Gators and months away from leaving Ontario for good to play in the NHL.
I fucking love Florida. The weather is hot, and the women are hotter. Although my agent said, in no uncertain terms, that he didn't care who I fucked so long as I was discreet, and they were my age. The team is shit, but I have loads of time to win a Stanley Cup at some point in my career. Right now, I kind of like having my summers start early. Florida didn't make the playoffs this year, but that didn't stop me from lighting it up on the scoreboard in my first year as a pro. I'm in the running for the Calder Memorial Trophy for Rookie of the Year.
I thought Luke would surely be the league's top rookie until Eric took a cheap shot at him during their first game against each other. I was livid. He could have broken Luke's neck, and we still don't know if Luke will play again. He's been rehabbing like a motherfucker but hasn't been cleared to play. When Florida played New York for the first time after Eric returned from his suspension, I dropped the gloves before the first whistle blew and knocked his front teeth out.Fucker.
I always knew Eric was a jealous shit, but I never thought he would almost kill one of us. All three of us are back in town this spring, and if I see Eric, I'll knock the rest of his teeth out. I wasn't planning on coming home at all, but I wanted to help Luke get back on the ice. We're going to do some training together, and hopefully by the end of the summer, Luke will get the green light to play.
It's been hard for him. Hockey is everything to us, and I know it's been rough on his fiancé, Sarah. They've been together since our junior hockey days, and Luke proposed after he made the big club in Toronto. I couldn't believe he wanted to be tied down so young, but he wanted his parents' love story. If I'm being honest, I think he's making a big mistake. Sarah's a bit of a bitch who likes to spend his money a little too much, but Luke's convinced she's The One, and there's no talking him out of it.
I pull my rental car up to Luke's condo building. We're headed home for a few weeks and Luke can't drive yet, so I'm his DD. We're staying at Casa Valentine to visit and catch up with family. Just like old times. Plus, it's time to check in on Dad, make sure he hasn't drunk himself to death, and give him enough cash to pay his bills for the year. Mom's insurance money has long been liquified and consumed, and I can't bring myself to let him die on the streets, homeless.
I pull into the parking garage of Luke's wicked downtown condo. Toronto real estate comes at a premium, but being the number one draft pick in the NHL's top market has some serious perks. One being a lucrative entry-level contract and a boatload of endorsement deals. He recently bought this place and is moving out of the rented apartment he shares with Sarah.
When I reach his unit at the top level, I hear yelling from inside.
"It was a mistake!" Sarah's voice cries. "It won't happen again."
"I don't care," Luke roars. "Go fuck all of Toronto if you haven't already. We're done."
This doesn't sound good. I knock on the door and realize it's already opened a crack. I push it open the rest of the way and see Luke steering Sarah toward the hallway.
"Excellent timing, Chase. Sarah was just leaving. For good."
"Chase! Help me talk some sense into Luke," she whines. "He's going to throw away three years of our life over one tiny misunderstanding."
"There was no misunderstanding," Luke growls through gritted teeth. "I came home early to tell you I was cleared to play again, and you were fucking the guy who almost ended my career."
Holy shit.
"That doesn't sound like a misunderstanding," I point out. "That sounds like you're an asshole."
Sarah shrieks some more, but we manage to get her out of his new condo. I'm assuming the incident in question happened at their old apartment, seeing as this place has minimal furniture to fuck on. Unless they used the granite countertops.
On the drive to the Valentine’s home, Luke fills me in with the details of what happened. The long and short of it is Luke came home early from physiotherapy two days ago with good news and found Sarah and Eric going to Pound Town in their bedroom. With Luke's career up in the air, it looks like Sarah was covering her bases, trying to ensnare a backup sugar daddy. I always thought Sarah liked Luke's paycheque more than his actual person.
"Sorry, man," I say, pulling onto the highway. "That's rough. But at least you'll be back crushing the competition next season, and you know the chicks will be wild to tap that ass."
Luke lets out a bitter laugh. We talk about training, and I talk about Florida for the rest of the drive. Luke's phone buzzes a dozen times with texts from Sarah, but I think fucking Luke's ex-best friend pretty much put the nail in the coffin of that relationship.
When we start drifting down familiar streets, my stomach twists into knots, and I decide to stop at my dad's house before the Valentine's. When I pull into the driveway, everything looks exactly the same. The light blue paint is chipping off the siding. Shingles are coming loose off the roof, and the lawn hasn't been cut for a decade. Everything is falling apart, overgrown, and shitty.
Dad's junky pickup is parked in the driveway. I remember him driving me to hockey practice, the smell of beer or vodka rolling off him in waves even in the morning. He'd critique my game if he was sober enough to watch, and when I'd missed a pass or shot, he'd lock me out of the house and force me to shoot puck targets in the driveway for hours. The dents in the garage door are still there.
If I'd had a particularly bad game, Dad would switch things up and I'd become the target. He'd force me to stand in the net with no pads and just a helmet while he shot pucks at me. I'd cover up the purple welts with socks and hockey tape, and when Luke's mom asked how I'd gotten such horrendous bruises, I'd lie and blame hockey practice. When she bought me better equipment to protect my body from slapshots and I still showed up black and blue at her house, I think she started to suspect the truth. But, by that time I was already spending most of my time at the Valentine's and reporting my dad would have put me into the system.
I reach across Luke and open the glove compartment to grab the envelope of cash before walking to the front door. I knock once, then let myself in. When I step inside, I'm hit with a wall of stench. A mixture of body odour, stale beer and liquor, garbage, cigarettes, and weed.
I find Dad in the living room on a couch wearing a stained wife-beater and dirty, ripped jeans and I kick his legs lightly to wake him.
"Huh?" He grumbles, bloodshot eyes flashing open. "Chase, ya little shit. Come to gloat over your dad?" He smiles, his teeth stained yellow. He probably needs to see a dentist, not that he'd go.
"Here's your money," I say disgusted, throwing twenty-five grand down on the coffee table. "I've already paid your mortgage for the next eight months and put enough money on your water, heating, and electrical bill to last you until the new year."
