Second Shot K.O.K (The Brooklyn Bears: Season 1)

15. Scored

FIFTEEN

SCORED

Koa

S tanding in the shower, I tilt my face to the source so the hot water can beat on my face, which is the only place on me that I didn’t take any hits on the ice tonight. We won, and I scored two, one that Dash could’ve taken but gave to me, knowing I needed it. Felt bad and got one back to him the next time our line was on the ice.

Pissed at myself for looking up, I am more pissed that I reacted.

Imagine trying to sleep in a room with fluorescent lights or having rage music blasting in your ears twenty-four seven and not being able to unplug it to find peace, you search for the switch, the plug, to end your misery but know you won’t because only one person knows where it is. You were dying from thirst while hearing the ocean, starving and smelling food, but you just can’t fucking get to, either. Nalani ending us felt a whole lot like that all at once, times a number so big no man or computer can figure it out.

I took a year-long walk through hell to finally find the switch to turn off those lights, find the plug to stop the music, water finally quenched a thirst, food stopped being a source of fuel, and I started enjoying it again. I was able to fully enjoy fucking, smiling, the company of people around me, my team, strangers, and the money I made.

Seeing her at the airport with a child and being able to walk away, I was so fucking proud of myself. But now I realize I did all the hard work, only to realize I’ve been lying to myself the whole time.

“KOK, everyone else is out of here. I told them we’d meet them at the bar?—”

“I’m not feeling like the bar tonight, Dash,” I grumble.

“Which is exactly why your ass is going.”

I turn and look, finding Deacon standing there.

“A win’s a win, KOK; let’s go.”

I glare at Dash, knowing he is the one who brought Deacon in on this.

He raises his hands in the air, as if to say, “Don’t shoot,” and I’m not saying I wouldn’t if I had a fucking gun. He then steps backward from the shower room.

“Just fucking what I needed,” I snarl as I turn off the water, grab my towel, run it over my hair, then wrap it around my waist and head out the door.

I push open the heavy wooden door of Icehouse Tavern, and the bells jingle above the entrance. The first wave of warmth washes over me, and I find myself loosening my tie, even before we get back to our section.

“Smells like victory in here.” Dash rubs his hands together. “Or is that designer pussy I’m smelling?”

Clearly, even my sense of smell is being affected because all I can smell is greasy bar food and craft beer.

I spot the guys right away, huddled in the back corner around our usual booths. I don’t bother looking around me, not in the mood to be entertained or to entertain anyone tonight. I want to eat, drink a beer with the team, and go home.

But this isn’t some other team’s local hangout; it’s ours. These are our fans. The people who pay our bills. They deserve more than that, no matter how fucked my head is.

As I weave through the crowd, I shake hands with the familiar faces, say thank you when they say congratulations or nice shot. This place is more than a bar; it’s like a post-game locker room. During the offseason, and some nights when there are no home games, the back area is used as a dance floor. On game nights, it’s where the colony of puck bunnies group together, waiting to be picked for a good time. Interestingly enough, some of the players from LA are here, too. Johnson’s all over LA’s goalie. Guy’s a rat.

“You see Johnson?” I ask Deacon.

“Kid looks like he might go down on his knees for Dingy.” He chuckles.

“That tool still hate you?” Dash asks him.

“Hell if I know. He stopped talking shit when The Times did a piece on me.”

“That’s one way to shut them up.”

“Damn right, it is.” He chuckles.

When I get back to the booth, I’m surprised to see Dash didn’t hang back in the colony, to snatch up tonight’s treat.

I give him a look. “I’m good. Resume regular programming.”

“You sure, man?”

I nod my confirmation.

“I’ll bring you something pretty back. You can decide if you want to take it home as a souvenir win.”

“Get your ass back here, Dash. It’s toast time,” Bass yells.

“Raise a glass,” Smith yells over the crowd, and the whole bar goes silent.

Stone starts, “They came to play, we came to win, we left them questioning what the fuck hit them.”

One of the assholes in the crowd yells, “We’re right here, Stone, still standing. Get ready to take it in the ass in LA.”

Smith made the second goal, so he’s up. “To us, the champions of the rink! They wanna shove it in our asses, well, they can suck my dick.”

The whole bar laughs, no doubt covering up what the assholes who came here from LA to start shit are saying.

Deacon nudges me. “You’re up, KOK.”

“We crushed it tonight, there is no doubt. Now we drink and fuck till the lights go out.”

“Way to keep it low profile tonight.” Dash chuckles.

“You got two, Cock; bring it home!” Faulker yells.

I raise my glass again. “A toast to the LA boys, who came out to celebrate getting their asses kicked tonight, proving once again that winning isn’t everything.”

“Fuck you, KOK!” comes from one of the douchebags.

I slam my beer and have a full one in hand in a blink.

I raise my glass again. “One more for the bunnies.”

They all cheer.

“To the ladies who know our stats and our sticks, a little heads-up, LA players have tiny dicks.”

The whole place erupts into laughter, and Dash and I slam our beers.

“How about you come over here and suck mine, second line ,” someone yells.

I hold up a one-finger response as I sit my ass down. “I’d prefer something with a little meat on the bone.”

“Fuck yeah.” Dash laughs as he sits next to me, grabs a chicken wing, and waves it around. “Like this?”

Rivera sits on the other side of me. “They’re here to start shit.”

“Damn right, they are, but our coach doesn’t need that after last game.” Stone chuckles from across the table.

“Fuck you,” Bass says. “Asshole deserved it.”

“Damn right, he did. Still does. Look at that little fuck,” Dash sneers.

Johnson is over with one of the Lancers players, laughing it up.

“We eat,” I say, grabbing a plate from the pile.

An hour later, I’m buzzed but not drunk, and the only reason I’m still here is that the WAGS showed up, and a couple more LA players, too.

“Let’s get out of here,” the blonde who claimed my knee a few minutes ago purrs in my ear.

I nod toward the crowd. “You may want to get you and the girls out of here. Tonight’s not gonna end with an orgasm; it’s looking more like a fight.”

“So hot,” she moans in my ear.

“Not hot if bottles get broken and pretty little faces end up getting cut.”

“Do you really think?—”

“Hey, Koa, can I get a minute?”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up as soon as I hear her voice.

“No cutting the line,” Blondie snips.

“Be nice,” I whisper to her.

“Ooo, a little two on one action in the Puck Pad tonight?” She licks her lips.

“I just need a minute, Koa.”

“Honey, he can give you far more than a minute. KOK is legendary.”

“Oh, wow, that’s so hot,” Nalani says in the most fake as fuck, put on baby-like voice, no doubt mimicking Blondie, and I find it hard not to laugh, but I do not react. Which is more than likely the reason she perches her little ass on my other knee.

“Ah, what the fuck’s going on over here?” Dash asks as he walks up to me, a dark-haired number beside him.

“We’re worshipping the KOK. He’s legendary, you know,” she says, using that same voice.

“Is she being bitchy, or am I?—”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Nalani says. “Now go find another stick to hump. I need a minute.”

“Ohmygod, what a bitch.”

“Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you come with me for a second?” the dark-haired girl, who I now recognize as Noelle, one of Nalani’s sorority sisters from Hayward, says. “You’ve got a little …” She rubs one of her teeth.

Blondie quickly slaps a hand over her mouth, understanding. “I am coming back, mean girl .”

“You do that,” Nalani says, stretching her fucking legs across my other knee. “You might want to bring a chair with you.”

“Is she from LA?” Blondie huffs as she walks away.

Nalani immediately starts, “Okay, I can’t stay long, and I’ve had a few glasses, maybe more than a few of champagne at the game tonight. You know what they say about drunks”— she pauses and shakes her head—“speaking their mind or something like that. Regardless, I want to talk to you. I want you and I to sit down and have a conversation.”

When I don’t say anything, she grabs my fucking chin and turns me to face her. “Hey.”

Her breath smells sweet, like champagne and strawberries. Something’s not right.

“You need to wash that shit off your face.”

“I was nervous primping. I went a little overboard. The bitch in me would like to point out something that you need to change, but I don’t see one thing, not one. You’re still you—you with a few extra pounds of muscle.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

I swear the corners of her mouth are tipping up into a smile. No matter how hard she fucked my head, I don’t want to give her any false hope, so I don’t.

“I need you to get off my lap.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” She doesn’t move; she just stares at me, searching my eyes for something, something she’s not going to get. “You know what? No, now I’m gonna sit right here until you tell me that you’re going to give me some of your time, because there are things I need to tell you.”

“Nalani, like it or not, I am not the same guy I was back then. I’ve changed. You’ve changed.” I chuckle. “You’ve changed a lot.”

“Actually, not so much. But I can explain all of that, after you promise to give me some time.”

I lift her up and set her in the empty chair beside me. “I don’t fuck with what’s not mine.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not fucking with you. I wanna say I’m sorry. I’m gonna tell you some things that happened, that I should have told you back then. I just didn’t know how or even why things got so messed up. But I want to tell you that I miss you”—she holds her little hand to her heart—“like, really bad miss you.”

I stand from my chair. “Not happening.”

“Koa.” She grabs my hand to stop me from leaving. “I am here in New York for a really long time, and I know you don’t think I deserve it, but I want you to give me a chance.”

I whirl around and pull my hand away from her. “ Give you a fucking chance ? You want me to give you a fucking chance? That door has been closed for years.” I place my hand over my heart, mimicking what she did. “Like, really fucking closed. If you need this shit to feel good about yourself, need me to forgive you, done. Forgiven.”

Her lower lip pops out, her eyes widen, and she crosses her arms over her chest, causing my eyes to drop to them. Fuck. I quickly move them back to hers.

“You can’t forgive someone truly without knowing what you’re forgiving them for, so I don’t accept that.”

“Here’s the thing, I don’t need you to. You need to accept that, because you’re a mom now. You’ve got a beautiful little girl. That’s where your focus should be. That little girl and her fucking asshole father.”

Her mouth drops open. “Oh my God.” She laughs—fucking laughs. “That beautiful little girl is not mine. She’s my friend, Claudia’s. Her name is Savannah and?—”

What the fuck did she just say?

“Shit doesn’t matter. You’re forgiven, and I’m going home.”

“I’m gonna be at every home game. You’re going to have to see me, face me. I will get a job with the Bears and you’ll see me everyday. Or you can give me half an hour of your fucking time, KOA, and I’ll give you as long as you need.”

Blondie walks up and links her arm through mine. “Just us then?”

“It’s not going to be just you, sweetheart. He’s going to be thinking of me the whole fucking time,” Nalani says as she pushes past me and marches her hot little ass toward the door.

When she’s out of site, I unlink my arm from Blondies. “Got pretty beat up tonight; I’m just going home to get some sleep. Catch you around.”

“Where did she go?” Noelle asks from beside me.

“Not my circus, not my monkey,” I answer, still walking toward the door. And that’s when she fucking bodies slams me?

But she doesn’t. She was pushed into me, and not by Blondie.

“You really wanna fucking go right now?” I tuck Noelle behind me, shrug off my jacket, and hand it to her. “I have years’ worth of fucking anger boiling inside of me right now, so I’m gonna ask you again”—I unbutton the cuff of my sleeve and start to roll it up—“do you really wanna fucking go right now?”

Deacon steps in front of me. “Fucking walk.”

“That piece of shit shoved a girl; he deserves what he’s got coming.”

“Then for Frosty, we take it outside.”

“You mean, like the snowman?” Noelle asks.

I turn to look at her and hear the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh.

“Oh my God, Dash, what the hell?” Noelle laughs.

I wrap an arm around Noelle when all hell breaks loose. Then I see Blondie standing there and grab her, too. The whole place seems to be being shoved outside, and I just focus on getting them out safely.

Outside, I hear someone yell, “What the fuck are you doing, Claudia? Open the fucking door.”

“Listen, dipshit, this is my ride,” I hear Nalani say but don’t see her.

“You better move, you little bitch.”

Rage boils inside me when I hear someone talking to her like that. I mean , any woman like that.

“Dash, Noelle.” I all but push her to him, then take off down the block.

I get to the asshole rocking a SUV, grab the back of his shirt, and drag his ass back. When he whirls on me, I see it’s LA’s goalie.

“Dingy, you apologize to this woman, and then you get to stepping, or I’m going to clean the fucking Brooklyn streets with your face.”

“My fucking kid’s in that SUV. Her bitch of a mother won’t open the damn door. She’s probably fucked up, so you do what you gotta do, Cock.”

I look at Nalani. “His kid in the vehicle?”

She nibbles on her lip before shaking her head. She’s lying.

“It’s Sophie’s car.” She holds up her phone, recording him? “Sophie Fairfax of Fairfax Media. So, if you don’t mind your name all over sports news networks tomorrow and possibly going viral all over the country, with this video as proof that you got drunk and assaulted a vehicle, because you and your little Lancer got spanked by the Bears and came out looking for a fight, then keep it up, Dingy.”

He points at the vehicle. “I saw her. I know she’s in there.”

“You sure you wanna chance getting traded again this late in your career?” she asks.

“You fucking—” He clamps his jaw shut when I step up to him.

“Before you walk away, you apologize for calling her a bitch.”

His nostrils flare before he bares his teeth. “Sorry.”

“Nah, that wasn’t?—”

“It’s all good. Now walk away, Kyle Dingy, number … whatever your number is, goalie for the LA Lancers.”

Muttering under his breath, he stomps away.

I see Dash, Noelle, and Sophie Fairfax coming toward us.

“Get in the fucking car,” Dash hisses after passing Kyle on the sidewalk. “Someone called the cops. Let’s roll.”

I catch Nalani smirking as she opens the door and climbs into the SUV.

“We can run home from here,” I tell Dash.

“Jesus, Koa, just get in,” Noelle huffs.

I climb in the front seat with the driver then glance back and see a … baby. “Is that his child?”

“He wanted nothing to do with her until a week ago,” Nalani answers. “He’s a piece of shit; therefore, no.”

The SUV pulls away from the curb, and I immediately spot Deacon and Dingy going at it.

“Pull over,” I say as I throw open the door and hop out before he’s even stopped.

“Deacon!” I yell as I cross the road, damn near getting clipped by a cab.

Bass and Stone are pulling them apart, and Coach D yells, “Get him out of here—now!”

“Come on, man,” I say and point to the SUV.

We pile into the SUV, and the driver takes off.

“I hope they pay you well.”

“They pay very well,” he answers.

“You’re bleeding,” someone says, and I look back as the woman with the child hands Deacon a cloth of some type.

“Appreciate it.” Deacon takes it and holds it to the back of his head.

“Did he sucker punch you?” Dash asks.

“My own damn fault for not seeing it coming. The kid’s been a steaming pile of shit the entire time I’ve known him.”

“Ouch,” Noelle says, looking at Claudia. Yeah, Claudia was her name.

She shrugs.

“Deacon, Claudia has a child with him, so maybe …” I shake my head.

“I know who Claudia is.” He leans over and looks at the little girl sleeping in the car seat on her lap. “There is a God. She looks like her mom.”

“Wait—how do you know Claudia?”

“Met her at the bar after a game, asked her if she knew what she was getting into. She didn’t answer. You were all there.”

“Avoiding Dingy?” Dash laughs.

“It was not a big deal,” Claudia, who’s clearly shaken up, says. “A fling. I got pregnant. I told him because I thought it was the right thing to do. He chose not to be part of her life, and now this.”

“My old man was a dick; he thought child support was paying for time to kick his kids around.”

She blinks a few times, and I glance at Nalani and see her put her hand over Claudia’s.

“He’s not gonna get a chance. I caught it all on video.”

“Queen move.” Sophie reaches out a fist, and they tap them.

Claudia turns and looks at Dash. “I’ve never asked or received support. I wasn’t a puck bunny or whatever they call them.”

“Shit, Claudia, I wasn’t implying that you were.” Dash shakes his head. “Sorry if I came off as a tool.”

“There is no need to apologize. I just wanted to make sure that it’s clear that I didn’t have a child to trap an athlete. I got pregnant and knew I would be able to take care of the child and give her a good life.”

“She’s a doctor,” Nalani states like she’s proud of her.

“Good. Take a look at Deacon’s head?” Dash asks.

“Of psychiatry.”

“Then take a look at Dash’s head,” Deacon says, pulling the cloth away and looking at it.

“Nice, asshole.” Dash laughs as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Message from Coach D.”

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Apparently, a bunch of guys got taken to the cop shop, and she wants us to stay with Sophie tonight.”

“We can get a room.”

“Nope, the next message says, ‘ Don’t get a room or go to your place. A room and your names will pop in the system. Your place, they’ll be waiting .’”