Page 15 of Rust
“Her birthday,” Rust explained. “She just turned five.”
“Oh my God!” I squealed. “That’s adorable. I love her.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty great.” Rust pocketed his cell phone. “She got me through some hard times.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Oh.” Rust hesitated. “I got her after the divorce.”
“Oh …” I said.
I wanted to say,I’m sorry,but I fell silent instead.
Dad motioned towards the rink. “Should we go watch the game or what?”
“Yeah, let’s go sit,” Rust said.
I followed them down a set of stairs, which took us out of the suite and right into the arena seats with everyone else. Dad sat in the middle, between me and Rust, which was probably for the best …
“Leather seats. Nice. Not a bad way to watch the game.” Dad fished a pair of tickets from his pocket and flashed them. “Certainly beats the tickets I bought, anyway.”
“Why the hell would you buy tickets, Johnny?” Rust asked. “You know all you have to do is call me, right?”
“I know, I know,” Dad said. “But I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“Abother? Come on, man. You know you’re never a bother. Lemme see those.” Rust swiped the tickets out of Dad’s hands, examined them, and pointed at the upper bowl with a laugh. “Nosebleeds?Really?”
Dad shrugged. “Hey, we can’tallmake the show, you know.”
Nope, we certainly can’t,I thought with an inward sigh.
Suddenly, eighteen-thousand fans let out a collective gasp and craned their heads to get a better look at what was happening on the ice. Number eight on the Sin had the puck. He looked so much smaller than everyone else, almost like a boy among men. But number eight danced through one defender after another, the excitement in the building rising with each breathtaking move he made.
“Holy fuck! Who is that?” Dad asked.
“That,” Rust muttered, “is Cale Cotton.”
Having carved up the Minnesota defense, Cotton skated in on the goalie, all alone. He got the goalie to bite on a head fake and, with one last move, skated around the goalie and tucked the puck into the wide open net.
“YYYYYYYYYYYYYEAH!”
The fans roared, the goal horn sounded, and the arena started to rock out to the Sin goal song. Everybody jumped out of their seats, cheering in jubilation, and pumped their fists to the music. The three of us stood to clap, too.
“That’sthe kid who stole your job?” Dad asked when the celebration cooled. “Holy shit. You’re fucked, big fella!”
Rust chuckled. “Thanks, bud. Rub it in, why don’t ya.”
Dad pointed out the goal scorer, Cotton. “That kid’s your age, Izzy.”
“Neat,” I said, though I didn’t try to sound enthused.
Dad elbowed Rust. “Maybe you could introduce them?”
Ever since Dad arrived, I felt like Rust was trying not to look at me—but at last, he turned his eyes to me, a possessive glare that sent shivers up my spine. He almost lookedangryDad had asked him that.
Aw, are you jealous?I bit my lip, thrilled.
“Do you really want me to do that, Johnny?” Rust growled.