Page 129 of Best Man
“We won the Cup!”
And the crowd! The noise from the crowd was unbelievable, roaring like a train as their goal song played.
Somehow, Jax found Niko in the pile of bodies. “You did it!” He put the crook of his elbow around Niko’s neck and kissed his cheek. “I fuckin’ love you, buddy!”
“I love you, too, man!”
“Hell of a game!Hellof a game!”
The boys could’ve spenthourslaughing, cheering, and hugging each other. But the Falcons stood at the other end of the ice, slumping with brokenhearted dejection, some of them crying. Before the Falcons could begin the painful process of trying to heal from this defeat, they needed to shake the victors’ hand.
Dane took mercy on the defeated opponent. “Come on, boys! They’re waiting! We have to go shake their hands!”
The two teams lined up and shook hands. Volkov led his team through the line. The fellow Russian was no sore loser at all.
“Congratulations, Sasha,” the Philadelphia captain said in Russian when they shook hands. “You played very well, especially when it mattered the most.”
“Thank you, Vova. You are a warrior. I prefer to fight with you than against you.”
“Same, brother,” Volkov said with a sigh. “I have to ask, was your baby born tonight?”
“Yes. A baby girl.”
Volkov chuckled. “I figured. I knew that had you distracted all series long—that was the only way I could keep you so quiet. I was hoping that baby could wait one more night!”
The two Russians shared a laugh.
“You were a big pain in my ass, Vova,” Niko said, paying the defender a great compliment.
Volkov patted him on the chest. “Quite a day for you, Sasha. Enjoy it.”
“Thank you,” he said, and the Russians moved on to shake the next hand.
After the handshake line, the league commissioner came out to present the Stanley Cup. Niko was so intoxicated on joy, he didn’t hear a word of the commissioner’s speech. The very next thing he knew, Dane was passing him the Cup. Niko lifted the thirty-five pound trophy high above his head and let out a roar. As he skated around the ice with the Cup, raising it to the cheering fans, he wondered if his parents were watching down on him. Tears welled in his eyes, joyful but sad they couldn’t be here, sad they couldn’t meet their granddaughter …
***
Back in the dressing room, bottles were shaken and uncorked. The boys sprayed the foamy liquid everywhere, showering the room with—
“Is this cider?!” Niko asked, laughing with surprise.
Yes—that’s right, sparkling cider, in place of the traditional champagne.
“We wanted you to be able to drink from the Cup!” Dane explained, as he filled the chalice to the brim with an entire bottle of cider. “This is that shit you drink, right?”
“Da!”
“Then you’re up, bud! Come get a taste of victory!” Dane said, the empty bottle making aclinkas he tossed it aside.
Niko neared, put his mouth on the rim of the silver trophy, and carefully tipped the Cup towards him. The boys cheered as he drank, taking one long pull, the sweet bubbles burning as they rushed down his throat. Cider dribbled down his chin and spilled down the front of his jersey, staining it red.
Once he’d had enough, he pumped his fist in the air and let loose a savage war cry, “YEAAAAAAAH! WE WON!”
The boys laughed and cheered his name.
“VAUGHNSY!” Niko said, waving over the goalie who’d kept them in the game. “COME GET A DRINK!”
Niko returned to his stall and sat, soaking in the scene, watching as the boys took turns drinking cider from the Cup. He was sure they’d rather be drinking the hard stuff—but hell, they were so thrilled, you’d never know it. The others lit up cigars, and the room began to grow hazy with smoke. Their victory song played over the speakers, again and again, but no one got tired of screaming it at the top of their lungs.
