Ares

Going stir crazy.

So I bust out of prison.

Time to get her stuff.

I didn’t get through school because it made sense. I got through school because I found a way to get through school, and the only reason I cared was because I couldn’t play hockey if I didn’t pass.

Ma said so.

Good that Felicity’s going to the cops. Maybe they’ll help. Maybe they won’t.

But that doesn’t mean my job’s over.

When she leaves me in the lobby, I hobble like a good boy on my crutch to the desk.

Melba smiles at me. She’s scared. You can see it in the whites of her eyes.

“Watch her,” I say.

She gulps. “Felicity?”

“Bad ex.”

Her nose wrinkles. “I was afraid of that,” she whispers.

I grunt. “Watch her,” I repeat.

And then I leave.

Thought she was being smart, taking my keys.

Got a spare set.

Who’s smart now?

Z and Joey are waiting when I get to the hotel Chase and Ambrosia stayed at last night. They flew in this morning since Z rolled back into New York after an away game in Chicago last night. My old team.

Z kicked their asses.

He got to play. I had to watch my sub kick ass for me. Kid’s good.

Could take my place full time.

Fuck.

Chase and Joey climb in the back seat. Ambrosia tries to get in the third row, but Chase stops her. “Need the room, Bro.”

She glares at him.

He grins. “Take it out on me later.”

Ambrosia eyes his junk and grins back. “Gonna cost you.”

“I know.”

Joey gags. Z and I have a stare-down over who’s driving.

“Spiders,” I say.

Z shudders, but he doesn’t move, except to clap me on the shoulder. “C’mon, man. Don’t make it worse. You know you shouldn’t be putting pressure on your foot right now.”

“I grabbed you a half-dozen hard-boiled eggs from the breakfast bar,” Joey tells me. “And I brought a bag of chocolate mints.”

Fucking cheaters.

“Unwrap them before you give them to him,” Ambrosia tells her. She’s leaning in my car.

I let Z have the wheel after giving him the death stare of don’t you dare fucking hurt my car.

I don’t give two shits if he hurts my car, but I fucking hate being useless.

Do like getting a man-hug from my twin though. Miss the fucker. He takes good care of me.

Sniffer and The Bear meet us in front of the fancy apartment building near downtown, maybe a mile from Mink Arena where we should all be getting ready for morning skate, except the team’s not in town, so no morning skate. Sniffer nods once.

Dude we’re looking for is still inside.

We walk in—all six of us—and the doorman shits his pants.

Not really.

But that would’ve been fun.

Instead, he blinks once, twice, and looks between me and Z. “Holy shit, the Brute and the Force,” he whispers.

Fuck, I miss hanging with Z during hockey season.

My twin grins and pulls out a black marker. The doorman offers his balding head, Z signs it, I add a scribble, we boost him up on our shoulders—even if it makes my ankle hurt like a son of a bitch—and Chase snaps our picture with the dude’s phone.

“We’ll be out in ten,” Z tells him as he slaps a hundred in the guy’s hand.

I grunt.

The six of us traipse to the elevators and head for the third floor.

At the dickhead’s door, I point my friends down the hall.

This one’s mine. I can’t play hockey today, but I can fucking take care of Murphy’s sister like he asked me to.

I knock once at the fancy wood door. Then twice.

Before I have to knock a third time, the door swings open. “Wha—aat the fuck?”

I lean into the little man’s space. He has a patchy beard, eyes like a weasel, and a nose like a bad pirate. Crooked without anything to show for it. He’s got some bulk to him, but not compared to me and Z.

“Her stuff,” I growl. “Now.”

He visibly gulps and tries to shut the door in my face.

I lean closer, because it would take ten of him to move me, and I could hold this door open with one finger. “Her stuff,” I repeat.

“You can’t be here.” Beads of sweat form on his forehead. “I’ll call security.”

“Try it.” I left my crutch in the car, and I’m wishing I hadn’t. Fucking ankle is swelling once more. Shooting hot shards of glass up my calf. Heat’s building at my hairline again. Shouldn’t have picked up the doorman. “Last chance. Easy way. Now.”

Z moves behind me. So does Chase. The three of us—always a team. Even the years we didn’t talk to Chase after he screwed Ambrosia, before they worked out their problems.

I lean even further down, until I can smell last night’s vodka on the fucker’s breath. “Move.”

He scrambles backward. I push in, my team behind me.

If it weren’t for the damn ankle, I could grab a bag and do this all myself. Helped push a semi onto the side of the road once. Carrying boxes is easy work.

Dude’s got a posh place. All black and gray and wood and marble with furniture that needs some springs broken. My ass is good for that. Broke a lot of chairs in my lifetime. Like that chair in Chase’s office. Took a glitter bomb up the butt for it too. Need to pay my sister back for that, since she put it there.

“You can’t do this,” the dickweed says.

“Not so good for business if word gets out that you’re a thief,” Chase says while he heads for a box under the window overlooking Reynolds Park. “Or a psychopath.”

“You threatening me?”

“Is it that obvious?” Z says.

“We’ll try to be more subtle next time.” Joey goes straight for the bedroom. Guy eyes her like he thinks she’s the weak link. “Go on and try it, asshole,” she says. “I’ll pluck your nut hairs out one by one and stuff them up your nose until you’ve got a nut hair mustache.”

Chick’s scary. I spent a week watching out for her baby sister. Little scared to breathe wrong the whole week.

Good match for Z. She can handle him. He’s grinning like a loon over her threats.

I back the dude into a corner while my friends reclaim Felicity’s stuff and some other shit he won’t miss.

Chargers for his phone. Light bulb here or there. Remote to something. Lids to all the water bottles in his fridge. The spindles off his toilet paper holders. His Thursday and Saturday boxers.

Yeah.

Dude has day of the week boxers.

We don’t leave until Joey finds Harold the puppet chilling in the freezer when she goes to grab some pizzas.

And people think I’m crazy.

“Be good to women,” I growl.

“I’m calling the cops.”

Hope he does.

Z tips the doorman again on our way out. “We weren’t here,” he says.

Like the dude’s not sporting our signatures.

The doorman nods. “I didn’t see you.”

Yeah. Not moving into this building when I leave Gammy’s house. Eventually.

I like Gammy’s ghost.

Felicity’s okay too.

No hurry to move.