Page 87 of The Import Slot
“You aren’t pissing in here,” Johnny says, but all this talk of pissing is making me want one now.
Johnny spam taps the call button, obviously hoping that the more he presses it, the higher the chance of a response. He goes at it for a few more minutes before static sounds through the little speaker on the wall.
“Hello? Is this a genuine call? If so, please state your current location.”
Thank you, heavens above! I guess they get loads of kids pressing that button, not realising what it does. Johnny responds into the intercom, and the voice tells us someone will be with us in forty-five minutes, much to Danny’s dismay. It’s almost four in the morning, and we are all fucked.
“Remember when we got stuck in that lift in Belfast?” Bettsy says.
“Fucking right, I do. What a nightmare.” Danny recounts the story. They’d all been out drinking after a win and ended up cramming twelve of them into the same elevator in the hotel.
“We were stuck for an hour!” Danny says.
“Yeah, Fuzzy pissed his pants, too.” Not sure who Fuzzy is, but I feel sorry for the guy.
We’re all sitting on the elevator floor now, and Bettsy and Hutch are looking through the open doors, lying prone on the hallway floor. They could have gone to bed, but I guess this happens when you’re used to doing things as a team.
“I forgot about Fuzzy,” Johnny says. There’s been a lot of guys who have come and gone, apparently. Johnny explained guys would come and play a season, get a better offer on the continent, and go there instead. “The fans loved him. He was an enforcer who didn’t give a shit, real chippy. I think he’s in Germany now,” he says for my benefit.
“Why was he called Fuzzy?” I ask. “Was it a variation of his actual name?”
“Nah, the guy’s beard was a bit of fuzz. Nothing I’d keep, honestly. He was trying to grow a beard all year. He wanted to be in a good place for the NHL Playoffs, he was promised tickets to the final.”
Mentioning the NHL gets me thinking about my brother and his call-up. Was I jealous? No. Envious? Again, I don’t think so. When I saw him on TV, I was just disappointed that I had no forewarning to expect it. I could have missed his first game as a Leaf.
I had waited for the negative feelings to come, but they didn’t. If I hadn’t done him a favour and took his spot, I wouldn’t have met Jen. I wouldn’t be feeling something again.
Since my mom passed, I’d become a stone wall, locking my emotions in, but I feel lighter now. Jen has been chipping away at the wall and finding a path.
Then I let myself admit something that I’ve been feeling for a while. I’ve been wondering if playing in the NHL was really what I want, after all.
The chatter between us dies down, and Danny doesn’t mention his aching bladder again.
The longer we sit there in silence, the more thinking I do. I may not be playing in the NHL right now, but I’m doing what I love with almost everyone I love. Fuck. Love.
Johnny sighs. “I need to fix things with my sister. I can’t afford to have another game like tonight.” He’s clearly been doing some thinking himself.
“Just talk to her. I’m sure you can sort things out,” I offer.
Johnny looks at me, smiling weakly as a door opens in the distance. Bettsy and Hutch scramble to their feet.
A short, squat man in a utility overall appears, crouching to see inside the elevator.
“Holy shit. Johnny Koenig,” he says, his eyes wide. I’m usually the one who gets recognised, but this makes a nice change.
“Hey. How’s it going?” Johnny says. “Think you can get us out?”
The guy nods. “You sit tight, and I’ll be back.” Yeah, like we’ve got anywhere else to go.
He disappears. Ten minutes later, the lights flicker, and a mechanical sound emits from the elevator shaft as we ascend and stop on the fifth floor. The maintenance guy appears again from the stairwell.
“Everyone okay?” he calls.
“Yeah, thanks, man. If you ever need tickets, tell them Johnny sent you,” I call with a smirk.
We step out of the elevator, and Danny bolts into Hutch and Bettsy’s place, leaving the door open so we can all enjoy the sound of him taking a leak. We’re all bursting by now, and it’s nothing we haven’t heard before.
We take turns to use the bathroom before heading toward the door to the stairwell.
