Page 46 of Full Tilt
Right at that moment, the Bolts captain dropped his gloves, making a beeline for Schneider.
It was a bad idea on the captain’s behalf. No one could overpower Alex Schneider—whether it was an on ice hit or a full-on tilt, otherwise known as a straight hockey fight.
The Bolts captain lasted all of thirty seconds before he hit the ice himself after Schneider landed an uppercut to the underside of his jaw. I leaned forward on my elbows as Jackson continued to cheer at the TV. Meanwhile, all I could think washow awesome the Blades enforcer was. What it must feel like to be that feared, that powerful. To be the one no one wanted to mess with in the league.
One of the refs finally pulled Schneider off his latest victim, and Jackson came back to sit alongside me on the couch.
I could already predict what he was going to say. The thought was written all over my friend’s face.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second as we both watched Alex skate toward the penalty box. Something that was a part of his game routine.
“Are you sure that you aren’t related to him?” Jackson nodded toward Schneider, and I watched as he threw his stick against the plexiglass in anger, multiple Philly fans jeering him while he continued to wind them up.
Jackson wasn’t the only one on our peewee team who had talked about my likeness to the Blades defenseman. The older I got, the more obvious it was. We shared the same everything physically. Hell, I even skated the same way as him.
I pressed my lips into a thin line, remembering everything Mom had told me about my father and how he’d died in Afghanistan. I knew the chances of Alex Schneider being my dad were crazy low, but a part of me hoped the living legend was my biological father.
No chance. Shit like that only happens in the movies.
“I told you,” I replied to Jackson, “my dad died years ago.”
“Jackson, you have got to stop making up ridiculous stories like that.” Jackson’s mom walked into the living room with a couple of sandwiches and Cokes and set them down on the coffee table in front of us.
She propped her hands on her hips and gave me an empathetic smile that I hated. They had way more money than Mom, and their house was bigger and in a nicer part of town.It was like she only allowed her son to be my friend because she pitied me or some shit like that.
My best friend sat back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest in frustration. “I’m not the only one saying it, Mom. Everyone at school and on the team can see the similarities.”
She turned to look at the TV and then back at me. “And I’m certain that if there was even the slightest ounce of truth in what you’re saying, then Tommy’s mom would’ve let her son know. There are many people on this earth who look alike without sharing a shred of DNA.”
With that, she turned and left the room.
Jackson reached forward and picked up his plate, immediately tucking into his sandwich.
I didn’t feel hungry, but I also didn’t want to go home and be around Mom’s latest boyfriend. He was an asshole, and I hated him.
I snatched up the can of Coke and opened it, taking a large pull before setting it back down.
“I think you should ask him yourself,” Jackson said quietly. “Track him down and where he lives and go ask him if he knows who you are.”
A burst of my laughter filled the room. It was the craziest idea I’d ever heard. “Are you for real?”
He nodded his head. “Deadly.”
I pointed to the center of my chest. “I’m twelve years old. How the hell am I supposed to get on a flight to New York?”
Jackson winced. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“And how would I find out his address?” I continued. “Celebrities like that don’t give away where they live.”
Jackson looked more confident with his response as he said, “That part would be easy. Alex Schneider loves the media.” Dipping into the pocket of his jeans, he opened up the defenseman’s social media profile, one I’d looked at a ton.He scrolled down a couple of times, stopping when he found a picture of him standing outside a large complex with two supermodels hanging off him. “A hundred dollars says that’s where he lives. Everyone knows that’s NHL player territory.”
I could see the logic in what Jackson was saying, but I still had my doubts as he locked his cell and slid it back into his pocket.
“Let’s just watch the game,” I suggested, feeling frustrated that I’d probably never find out the truth.
I had to believe what my mom had said. I just found it strange that despite her telling me it was a onetime thing with my biological dad, she didn’t have a single photo of him to show me.
Jackson turned back to the game as the Philly powerplay wrapped up and Schneider rejoined the ice.
