Page 74 of Hunter
The boys left on foot to go see who this Alvino Rossi was. Dylan was able to find out about a poker game that he had going on, and I took my car to the game.
I had to do some social media posting for the fundraising event, and I kept an eye out for Valentine. I still loved seeing the fear dance in her eyes. After all this time, I still make her anxious. It’s all over her face. And now it’s not only on hers, but on her little boyfriends too.
Gabe texted to let me know that Dylan had called in bets on HU winning 2-1. That’s what I came up with when I was riding him earlier. He asked me to pick a final score for them to throw money on as he spanked my ass and called me his smart little cookie again.
I came so hard that I swear the numbers, two and one, that popped into my head were written in the stars that twinkled behind my closed eyes. They looked like constellations.
So tonight, when Hunter Wilton and Max Harmon scored and the Devils won, 2-1, I smiled at myself… maybe my brain isn’t so crazy after all.
FORTY-FOUR
It felt fuckinggood to win. We played our game, and we were fucking solid out there tonight. Max and I were in sync; meanwhile, Jake and Monroe kept shit moving. My brother took a shot, and I know he went wide on purpose. I felt it when he sent it toward the net. He did that shit for me, and I fucking love him for it.
We snuffed out Stonebridge, and now we’ll face off against Coventry. Whoever wins the Big Ten moves on for a chance at the Frozen Four, and fuck do we want that. Our cap and severalother guys are moving on after this season, and to go out on top would be a fucking dream come true. It’d also look real fucking good for me and the boys when we go out for the draft.
Before we hit the ice, Coach told us that the HU’s Athletic Department Social Media Team was here tonight to market the fucking auction fundraiser that’s happening on Thursday. He warned us that they’d be sent back after the game to film content and to interview us, and he threatened to add to our volunteer hours if we gave them any shit. Then the bastard promised to scratch us for the rest of the season if we tried to skip out on the interviews. He made sure to stare me down when he said it.
After we fucking won, we had ten minutes before the staff opened the doors and let them all in. That’s when Payton fucking beelined for me.
She strutted over with her obnoxious, bright pink phone in her hand and all the fucking confidence in the world,as if she was the one who scored tonight and clinched a playoff run.It didn’t matter how hard I glared, she just kept stretching her artificial smile. It made my fucking teeth hurt to look at her. She was already annoying the ever-loving shit out of me, and she hadn’t even spoken yet.
“I didn’t see Val out there, lettme guess, she’s still afraid of big spaces with tiny doors?” She mocks in a voice that has me wanting to rip her throat out so that she shut the fuck up. “I can’t tell you how many times I told Gabe that she should’ve gotten her head checked. She would have a mini mental breakdown every year when we’d go on field trips to Broadway to see shows. She hated those theatres.” She looks like she’s a million miles away, even though I’m face-to-face with the disturbance in her eyes. “I used to follow her into the bathroom just to hear her cry in there,” she says as she sighs, “I miss high school. Such happy memories.”
“What do you want, Payton?” I breathe out through gritted teeth and try to remain calm, which isn’t easy for me to do.
“Are you excited for Thursday?” Her voice sounds like scratched glass and hurts my ears. I’d rather swallow broken shards than participate in the fucking event that she’s talking about. “I thought you’d want to make sure that the scholarship fund was full to cover Valentine next year.” I look up at her face and don’t say a fucking word. I just stare her down to let her know that what she’s doing isn’t gonna work on me. I’m not gonna give this bitch the fucking satisfaction. I’m not going to that stupid event. I’ll enter the fucking draft after this season if it means that Ed doesn’t have to worry about scholarship shit or money, ever again.
“Again, what do you want?” This is fucking painful. I swear that this girl can’t take a fucking hint.
“Make sure that Val comes on Thursday. Gabe and his business partner are coming. And he wants to see hisprima (cousin). It’s been a long time. And they have a lot to catch up on, you know; lying, deceit, snitching, things like that,” she says with a smile and a nonchalant shrug.
“Tell your man that I want to see him. This shit can be handled between us.”
“Oh, you’ll meet him. Him and his business partner can’t wait to meet a future NHL star.”
CUARENTA Y CINCO
I’ve now lived here long enoughthat I’ve overheard the old-timers at the shelter and people on the street talk a lot about an invite-only poker game that happened out in the neighborhood. I just never cared enough to know who went orwhere it went down. Like I said, I know when to mind my fucking business.
I’ve also overheard lots of bets being placed on HU sports teams, which isn’t surprising considering this is an actual college town with a school that places more value on its sports and athletes than its academics and high-performing students.
They raise money for the university endowment that they have and combine the two for these dumb fundraising events that clog up my email.Pinche culeros. Fucking assholes.
I had no idea that Alvi or his family were involved in both sports betting and neighborhood politics like that, but now that I know a little bit about him, it makes sense. If he controls the game, he can control the neighborhood players.Y luego podrá controlar quién gana. And then he can control who wins.
I recognize a lot of the faces that have walked into the shop and even said hello twice. He’s got neighboring business owners, local people, some city workers, and even a couple of HU administrators, all coming through to play poker after hours.
None of them walked in here empty-handed either. They brought in food, bottles of wine, cans of beer, a fucking cake, and a special bottle of whiskey. There’s also a plant.
Some lady placed a cactus on top of the desk that I’m sitting at and told me that cacti prevent unwanted intrusion. I fucking love that. It speaks to my soul. Between the prickly exterior and the vibrant flowers blooming from the top, I feel a deep connection to this plant. It makes me want one as a tattoo to cover theXabove my ass. I’ve already got an idea for a single black rose to cover theXbetween my tits, so the cactus would fit the vibe.
He had a couple of round tables set up with chairs for everyone to sit and two long ones for all the shit that they brought in. With his setup, I could see them, they could see me, and I was okay with that.
No one paid attention to me except for tattoo guy, and I was okay with that, too. He sat on the arm of the couch across from the desk that I was at, and was at the center of it all.
I was on my laptop, looking for more data to add to my spreadsheet and never-ending Google Doc. I’m so mad at myself for not doing this before. I can’t believe it took Payton and my paths crossing again for me to figure out whose path to avoid in the future.
I’ve got so much shit to document and account for.¡No manches, wey! I still can’t believe it. It’s all so fucking wild.
