The Offer （4）

"Mar, can you hear me?"

Ryan watched the screen as Amara's lips moved but there was no sound. He could lipread her cursing and watched as she chaotically pressed buttons on the keyboard, finally unmuting herself.

"There we go!" she said. "I swear, I don't understand how this automatically mutes every single time I pop on here with you."

Ryan debated telling her for the eighth time that she probably had the app set to "mute upon entry", but there was literally no point. He just smiled. "I swear, every time I think you can't possibly get older, you're like, ‘Hold my beer.'"

"Keep your shit up, kid, and you'll be publishing this book yourself. And I'd straight-up murder a bitch for a beer right now." She adjusted her screen so the camera tilted down, inadvertently giving Ryan a glimpse of her massive, pregnant cans.

"Jesus, Mar. Look at your tits. They're huge!"

"Baylor! Behave, you perv. That's the mother of my child."

"Sorry, Jake. Didn't know you were in the room!" he called loudly, blushing, as Jake leaned into the frame, kissed his pregnant girlfriend on the cheek, and stared into the camera. "Hey, Ryan."

"Hey, Jake."

"Awk-ward!" Amara smirked, as Jake left the room. "OK, he's gone. Yes, they're ginormous, as is every fucking thing else. I can't even function. You should see my ass. It's like a Sherman tank."

"I mean, if you're offering," Ryan quipped, winking. "So aside from your huge tits and ass, things are good?"

She nodded. "Yeah, things are good. Been working on a massive freelance piece for a local clothing company that has the potential to turn into some steady work, so that's been cool. Oh, and I've taken your book through its final proof and edit, so I'll be sending that along shortly for you to review, and then we'll set a release date and talk about some promotion options. I can't believe we finished it. It's so good, Ry. You're gonna be blown away."

"I'm sure I will be. I'm blown away by everything you write."

"Stop kissing my ass, Baylor."

"You know what? Start kissing mine, K? Just trying to give you a compliment."

"Sorry. I'm moody as fuck. I'm so uncomfortable. This kid is like, doing barrel rolls in my uterus twenty-four seven. I can barely sleep."

"How much longer until it, you know, comes out?"

"Until it comes out? What are you, 12? You mean until I give birth to him, my son?" She laughed. "I'm due at the beginning of January."

"Sorry. Well, you're getting close. Just a couple more months."

"Yeah, easy for you to say. Shove a beach ball up your shirt for the next two months and let me know how it goes. You know I've pissed myself three times this week? Three times, Ry."

Ryan made a face. "I didn't, uh, need to know that. But, um…that sucks?"

"Ugh, whatever. Rant over. So, how's my bestie? I haven't heard from him in about a week, minus the occasional text. I'm assuming he's busy. He's out in Cali now, right? Anaheim?"

"Yeah, they just played last night. We've got a break for a few days and they've got a game in LA tonight, so I'm flying out there in a few hours to watch him. We, uh…" Ryan paused, unsure how much he wanted to divulge to a very pregnant and overly emotional Amara right now. "Yeah. He's good. We're…good. It's all good."

Amara frowned. "Yeah, that's real convincing, Ry. I can read your lyin' ass like a book. What's going on? Are you two OK?"

He looked away from the screen. "No. No, we're…not OK."

Concern washed over her face. "What do you mean? Ryan, what's going on?"

"I didn't…fuck, I really didn't wanna lay this on you right now. You've got your own shit to worry about. The last thing you need to worry about is our homodrama."

"Ryan? The highlight of the past three days for me was rolling my fat ass into my car, waddling into the grocery store while trying not to piss myself for the fourth time this week, and getting super excited because my favorite tortilla chips were back in stock, OK? I am living for your homodrama right now. I miss you guys so much. So much. Life…isn't the same without you two, and it kinda sucks sometimes. You two asshats kept things interesting, that's for sure. Not to mention, I worry about you both constantly, so lay it on me. What's up?"

"It's…bad," was all he said.

"What does that mean?"

"He's fucking up big time. He's told you about TK, Travis Kadin, right?"

She nodded. "Mmhm," she said quietly, lips pressed together and her eyes getting big.

"What?" Ryan said defensively.

"Nothing, nothing. He just…he's…"

"Yes, Travis Kadin's hotter than holy fuck."

"He's not as hot as you," she reassured him.

"Yeah, thanks. Great. Moving on. He's also a real problem, Mar. He and Ty are constantly fucked up. You know the Isles hired security to babysit them? Literally. They sit outside their rooms so they can't sneak out and party. They're not even allowed to hang out off the ice. He's…Mar, I think he might be an addict."

Amara shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Can't say that surprises me. Look at his mom, Ryan. You know, I could see it in his face the last time I talked to him. Kept telling me he was tired, slurring his words. Gave him the benefit of the doubt, but…it makes sense. There's a family history and he's got an addictive personality. Remember his coke binge last year? Fuck." She sighed. "So, what are we gonna do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ryan, if he's an addict, we have to get him some help. Before he really does something stupid."

"It's gonna have to come from you, Mar. He won't listen to me. Thinks I'm just jealous of TK and being a drama queen. His words, not mine."

"Are you? Jealous of TK?"

"Well, let"s see. If some hot ass girl texted your man that she wanted to rip lines of coke off his pretty little abs, what would you do?"

"Beat a bitch down," she replied instantly. "Holy shit. He texted him that?"

"Yup. Him and his fucking pierced nipples. If he hasn't fucked him already, he's going to. I'm not stupid. I can see it coming a mile away."

"Ryan, Ty's…not a cheater. And he's in love with you. You know that."

"Do I?" he snapped. "They were just together last night again. They're not supposed to be hanging out, and somehow, they found a way."

"Because they're probably codependent on each other, Ry. Neither one wants to get fucked up alone, so if they do it together, it makes it feel normal to them. Validates it."

"Thanks, Dr. McDonough. Didn't realize you were such an expert."

"Grew up around a lot of alcoholics, Ryan. This is right in my wheelhouse, unfortunately."

"Well, then maybe you can talk some sense into him," Ryan said, sighing in frustration. "Because he doesn't listen to me. Thinks I don't care about him anymore."

"You don't talk sense into an addict, Ryan. You know that better than anyone."

"Then what do we do?"

"How bad is it? Seriously?"

"Amara, I watched him chase three oxys with a bottle of whisky he keeps in his nightstand a few weeks ago. And he didn't see a problem with it. At all."

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "Rehab. He needs to go to rehab, Ryan."

"There's no fucking way he"ll agree to go to rehab."

"Then we make him."

"What if he won't go?"

"Then at some point, we're gonna have to watch him die."

???

"Change!"

"Thank fuck!" Hayes panted, trudging back toward the bench, hopping over the boards, and plopping down. He grabbed a water bottle and shot some into his mouth before covering his entire face with it. He'd been out on his shift for over ninety seconds because the defense couldn't get its shit together, and if he'd been out there any longer, he might've passed out.

The whistle blew and the Isles called a timeout.

Hayes turned around and grabbed Reese, the athletic trainer, by the arm. "Salts, man. I need the salts."

"Fuck off, Hayes. You used ‘em twice already. You wanna fry your nose completely? Do you need to call it a night, head back to the locker room?"

"Come on, man. I'm fuckin' exhausted here. Please?"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have stayed out partying all night with TK." Reese watched Hayes look away. "Yeah, you didn't think we'd find out, did you? Payin' off the security? You're in fuckin' deep shit, man. Both of you. Only reason you're even in this game right now and not in the press box is because we've got three key pieces injured. Or else both your asses would be sitting."

"Shit," Hayes mumbled, reaching for the water bottle again and hosing himself down. He wasn't having the worst game of his life, but it certainly wasn't the best either. He'd wanted to impress Ryan, who was watching with some of the other guys' families who'd made the trip, so he and TK had ripped two lines of coke each in the locker room bathroom stalls right before the game. That had powered him through most of the first and about a quarter of the second, when he'd hit the salts on two different stoppages of play.

He'd straight-up hit a wall after that, though.

The Kings were up 4-2, and there were just under 12 minutes left in the second. He was out of breath, completely exhausted, and his jaw was killing him, so much so that he kept opening his mouth wide and closing it repeatedly, just trying to get some relief, looking like a fish.

Cocaine comedown.

Coach Russell yelling at him forced him back to reality. "Hayes, if you dump and chase one more goddamn time without applying any pressure, you're done. You hear me? You can't just dump and stand there like an asshole. Get on the forecheck or you're outta here. Understood?"

He nodded, looking down the bench at TK, who appeared surprisingly fresh-faced and alert. Hayes shot him a puzzled glance and mouthed, "The fuck?" It didn't make sense that he wasn't struggling just as hard.

TK mouthed, "I bumped."

"Fucker," Hayes mouthed back, pulling his helmet off and slumping forward onto his lap. Don't even ask if I want some.

When it was time for his next shift, Hayes sucked it up as best he could and jumped out onto the ice, immediately racing toward the defensive zone and ending up in a puck battle against the boards with two of the Kings. Both crushed him up against the glass, one of them jabbing his elbow into his side.

"Fuck off me!" he yelled, elbowing him back.

The ref finally blew the play dead after yelling, "Play it!" several times, to no avail.

Hayes immediately turned to the player who'd elbowed him. "Fuck's your goddamn problem, bitch?"

"Aww, what's wrong, Hayes?" he taunted, skating backward as Hayes came toward him. "Can't handle the rough stuff? Heard you and your little boy toy were all about it."

Hayes gave him a quick cross check, causing two of the Islanders players to race over along with another one of the Kings. A small scuffle ensued, with one of the Kings gripping Hayes up by his jersey and pulling him away.

"Hey. Calm down," he told Hayes gently, still holding him.

He recognized him.

Sev Kirscher, number 56. They'd been in the same draft class together, though Sev was a few years older due to coming from the NCAA.

"Fuck off, pussy!" Hayes spat, trying to free himself from the grip but unable to do so.

"Your man's here watchin', right? Come on, don't do anything stupid. Just calm down."

"Yes, I'm a fuckin' homo. What? You gonna make comments about that, too, bitch? Let's hear it."

He laughed. "Yeah, no. That'd be the pot callin' the kettle black, bud." Sev let go of Hayes's jersey and looked at him. He noticed the red light was on at the score table, so they skated around where the faceoff was going to be. "You look tired tonight, man."

"The fuck's it to you?"

"Still so aggressive and so cocky, Tyler Hayes." Sev bumped into his shoulder and leaned into his ear. "Wonder if you'd still be that cocky with my tongue in your asshole." He pulled away, as Hayes's eyes widened. "Bet you wouldn't be."

The light was off and everyone was getting into position for the faceoff, but Hayes was completely frozen.

What the fuck did he just say to me?

They bent over just outside the circle, arms touching. "Why don't you call me after the game if you and your boyfriend wanna hang out? Get my number from Neilly."

Before Hayes even had a chance to process what was happening, the faceoff had been won, there was a puck on his stick…and he immediately iced it.

Tyler Hayes was fucking shook.

"Goddamn it, Hayes!" Aiden Hughes, the Islanders' captain, yelled. "You're worthless tonight!"

Hayes skated toward the bench.

The coach started to scream at him. "Hayes, you're…"

"I know, I"m goin'!" he shouted, hopping over the boards, shimmying his way to the end of the bench, and doing the walk of shame down the tunnel and back into the locker room.

So, he'd been benched for the remainder of the game in the second period when his boyfriend had flown almost 3000 miles to come watch him play.

But fuck all that for a moment.

Did Sev Kirscher just proposition him and Ryan to have a fucking threesome after the game?

Like, did that shit seriously just happen?