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After telling him to leave me alone, he kept going.
Then he started grabbing me.
Pulling at my shirt. My arm. Telling me stories about the Sola Empire that I didn’t give a fuck about.
I told him I wasn’t in the mood to talk about hockey.
I had other things on my mind.
But he kept pushing at me.
I eyed the bartender for help.
Even the bartender couldn’t get this guy to stop.
So I had no choice.
I had to hit him.
One punch to the nose and the guy fell and smacked his face off the bar.
After that?
It turned into a blur that ended with both of us in handcuffs.
Lucky for me, the arresting officer knew who I was and followed theSola Empireso he helped me to not be seen as best as he could.
I had a hunch that the bartender threw a few goodwill comments my way when the cops were trying to figure out what the hell was happening.
That didn’t mean I got away scot-free from it all though.
My hands were cuffed in front of me and I got a ride to the police station.
Then they tossed me and the guy I beat up in the same cell.
When the officer told me to make my call, he figured I’d call my agent or lawyer.
I mean, why not, right?
I was a mostly famous athlete.
The perks of my job was to be able to get into trouble and then pay my way out of it.
And I probably should have called Tucker.
But.
A big but.
A really big but.
At the last second, I decided to call Hazel.
A split-second decision change in my mind.
It almost felt like it wasn’t even my mind making the decision.
It just… happened.
