Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
My shoulders collapse in frustration and exhaustion. Despite our relentless effort in those final nineteen seconds, we didn’t do what we needed to do during the rest of the game. Our play was lackluster and it’s a bitter loss going on the balance sheet. The crowd is mostly silent with a smattering of applause from that last-ditch battle.
While the Wolves celebrate with their own fans cheering, our team makes its way to the gate that leads to the tunnel. We bottleneck as each player steps through. Diehard fans hang over the rails, attempting to bump fists, but none of us react. Our heads are hanging.
Penn is in front of me and just as he steps through the gate, a water bottle comes flying from the stands and hits him squarely in the shoulder. It’s full and makes a resounding thwack before clattering to the ground.
I immediately think it’s a Wolves fan but I’m stunned when a loud voice rings out, filled with venom. “Navarro… you’re a traitorous bastard!”
A Florida Spartans fan—Penn’s last team.
“Do your teammates know you can’t be trusted?” the voice calls out and my eyes scan the crowd for the offender, intent on identifying the asshole who just assaulted my teammate. I see security moving in on a man and he’s not wearing a jersey. He’s in his late twenties and while I can’t hear the conversation, he’s arguing with the security professionals who take him by the arms. His face is red with anger and his eyes remain locked on Penn as he screams, “You know what you did, Navarro. Karma is a bitch and it’s coming for you.”
What in the ever-loving fuck? This isn’t some disgruntled Spartans fan who’s pissed his team lost the best player in the league. The spite in those words sounds very personal.
Penn’s face is pale, his jaw locked hard. For a brief moment, he’s frozen in place, staring back at the man. Then, he just shakes his head slightly and moves into the tunnel, out of sight of the fans.
I watch the security guys drag the man out of the bleachers, many of the fans booing him for throwing the water bottle.
“Move it, King,” Stone says from behind me and I realize I’m holding up traffic.
I hustle into the tunnel and when I catch up to Penn, I ask, “Hey, do you know that guy?”
He doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder at me and his voice is flat and without emotion. “No, just some drunken fool. Probably pissed off that I left the Spartans to come here.”
I frown, not entirely convinced, but decide to let it go for now. “Well, screw him. You made the right choice joining the Titans.”
Penn nods but doesn’t respond as we enter the locker room. He moves straight to his cubby to grab his shower gear. I head to my own locker, lost in thought as Rafferty steps up beside me. Pulling his shower bag out, he says, “That was some bullshit.”
I shrug, looking over to see Penn has already left for the showers. When I look back to Rafferty, I say, “Did you hear what was said?”
Rafferty shakes his head. “Nah… I wasn’t paying attention. Just saw the bottle hit him.”
“That dude yelled that Penn was a traitorous bastard, that his teammates can’t trust him and that karma is a bitch and would be coming after him.”
Considering those words, Rafferty lifts a shoulder. “Disgruntled Spartans fan.”
“Most likely, but he also said, You know what you did, implying that Penn did something nefarious. At least by the tone of his voice and you should have seen his face… he was livid with fury. I asked Penn if he knew the guy and he brushed it off, said it was a crazy fan.”
“Probably what it was,” Rafferty says as he sits on the bench to unlace his skates.
“I suppose.” But I’m dubious. I perch next to my teammate and start on my own laces.
“You going to Stevie’s tonight?” He nudges my shoulder and grins mischievously. “Or perhaps you’re seeing Willa?” Rafferty then reverts to a twelve-year-old and makes kissy faces.
“Grow up,” I growl, which is ironic given that Willa is weirded out by the age gap and I’m obviously more mature than Rafferty who is also older than me. “But yes, I’m going to Stevie’s.”
Hendrix had posted on the team thread asking everyone to come hang at Stevie’s bar tonight after the game. He didn’t say why and there doesn’t seem to be a special occasion, but he’s never formally requested the team show up en masse. Usually he invites a handful of us since much of the team does their own thing after a game. Some go to Mario’s, some go home to their families and others go out to meet their honeys. I asked Willa to come as my date, but she has some medical function to attend tonight, so it’s just me and the guys.