The Tournament

by Angelo Kontos

  Sloane knocked on the door a few times. Thirty seconds or so passed and there was no answer. Sloane rapped on the door again.

  “You sure he’s in here?” Sloane asked.

  “The cleaning staff told me he went in about two hours ago and no one’s seen him since,” the manager said while licking his fingers. “He hasn’t gone anywhere except our dining room or that chair over there.”

  “Open the door, please.”

  The manager looked surprised. “I can’t just…you know, there’s privacy…I can’t…”

  “Sure, you can. Open the door.”

  “Look, I know you’re his dad and all, but –”

  “I’m not sure who told me they were glad I was driving up here,” Sloane said matter-of-factly. “But here I am, and I want to know he’s okay.”

  The manager held keys, but he looked unsure. Sloane pulled out his cellphone.

  “I’m sure you have a protocol for explaining police presence to your other guests when they rush in with lights and sirens,” Sloane said.

  The manager held a hand up. “H-hold on there.”

  He fumbled with the keys a little before finding the right one and inserting it into the lock. The manager tried banging one last time, but when there was still no answer, he finally turned the key and opened the door. Sloane brushed past him and went inside.

  It was a spacious room with a king-size bed and television. There was a couch in one corner and a recliner close to the TV with a mini fridge nearby and a closet by the door. A few of Freddy’s hockey jackets were hanging in there, but there was no sign of him.

  “Mr. Bozelli?” the manager called out.

  “Rozelli,” Sloane corrected.

  “Sorry.”

  The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar and the light was on. Sloane opened the door fully and found Freddy sitting on the floor tile slumped over the toilet. He appeared to be passed out, and the toilet bowl was full of his vomit. Sloane pulled him back and Freddy’s eyes rolled around in his head. There was puke in his hair and Sloane had trouble breathing because of the stench.

  “Oh, man,” the manager said while covering his face.

  Freddy looked like he was trying to focus his enlarged pupils but could not. Sloane dragged him away from the toilet.

  “I’ll kill all you sons of bitches…” Freddy muttered as Sloane propped him up against the bathroom wall.

  “Freddy, what did you take?” Sloane asked. “What did you take? Did you take pills? How many?”

  “Sons of bitches…I’ll kill all you bitches…” Freddy babbled on.

  After a moment or so, Freddy’s eyes were closing again.

  “I better call paramedics,” the manager said.

  “No,” Sloane responded firmly. “No paramedics.”

  Sloane hooked his arms around Freddy’s waist and started to pull him up.

  “Just help me get him to my car.”

  46.

  The gym that Helen Peters negotiated a deal with was an old relic kept alive by a small group of aspiring boxers who liked to train there. In fact, the only equipment that looked well maintained were the punching bags.

  It was located upstairs in a two-storey building which housed a busy diner on the bottom floor off Mutual Street. A narrow staircase led to a poorly lit space with aging weight equipment. There were half a dozen treadmills in one corner, but they were collecting dust as the boxers did not trust their reliability and instead went running outside or jumped rope to improve their cardio.

  Alex got there very early to get his sweat on. Getting in shape was harder than it used to be, but he had become addicted – every stride, every arm curl, every sit-up. He felt a little stronger each day.

  Ken arrived and found Alex on a mat doing sit-ups with a heavy medicine ball.

  “Hey, Coach,” Alex grunted.

  “This is quite the place, huh?” Ken mused.

  “Yeah, I guess. I actually kind of like it.”

  Ken watched Alex jump to his feet and put the ball down before starting a set of high-intensity burpees on the mat.

  “I’m going to name you captain,” Ken announced.

  Alex stopped. The two men looked at each other for a moment without saying a word.

  “Look, Coach. I’m really…I mean…” Alex stammered. “Being captain back in the day is honestly a highlight of my life.”

  “The only other person I’d consider would be Mike Hill, and you know as well as I do that he doesn’t like that kind of attention.”

  “Picking up a stick and playing with the boys again…it’s distracting me from where I was and that’s a good thing, but…”

  “Listen, Alex, you came to me and asked me to come back,” Ken pointed out. “You said this is who I am.”

  “It is.”

  “Well, this is who you are.”

  “Coach…”

  “I’ve been watching you from the first minute you stepped onto the ice. You’ve still got that look. The guys will follow you.”

  Sweat was pouring down Alex’s face. Ken grabbed a clean towel from a pile nearby and tossed it to him.

  “You’re the captain…and you know that.”

  47.

  Corey sat on the couch in his office struggling to put one of his shoes back on. He was mostly dressed again and could hear his Associate Lawyer mistress running water in the bathroom and cleaning up. He had not kept count of how many times they’d been together on that couch, but once a week seemed like a good estimate. During all this time, he could not recall her looking as uninterested as she had today.

  She came out of the bathroom dressed neatly and looking like the last person anyone might think just had a romp at work. Corey was sitting on her purse. She reached over and yanked it out from under him.

  “I heard there was a meeting yesterday,” she said icily.

  “Yes, so?”

  “Was my name mentioned?”

  “That kind of thing takes time.”

  “Was my name mentioned?” she repeated sternly.

  “Am I being cross-examined?” Corey asked.

  “It’s a simple question.”

  Corey stood up. Who exactly did she think she was talking to?

  “Okay,” he replied. “Here’s a simple answer: No.”

  “Why not?”

  Corey took a few steps toward her, but she did not flinch.

  “Because I don’t answer to you,” he declared. “I didn’t make partner by sleeping around and begging. I earned it.”

  “No, you started sleeping around after you made partner,” she responded. “Because that’s so much better. I’m sure your wife would agree.”

  She moved past him and headed for the door. Corey grabbed her arm. She tried to pull free, but he held on tight.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “You need to hear this,” he said. “If you ever threaten me like that again, if you ever mention my wife again, you can forget making partner. You’ll be on the outside looking in because your career will be finished.”

  On the second attempt, she successfully got her arm free and walked out of Corey’s office as quickly as she could.

  Corey sighed and looked at his watch. He had to hurry, or he’d be late for his pickup. He finished buttoning his shirt and grabbed his jacket.

  It was hard putting people in their place.

  Shortly thereafter, Corey stood in the reception area of a private rehab facility holding out his platinum credit card. He admired the office assistant’s figure as she waited by a printer for his receipt, and he wondered why a woman that attractive was stuck behind a desk answering telephones and printing receipts. She could make a lot more money being a waitress or modelling.

  She turned and smiled at Corey.

  “Sorry. It’s an old printer and it takes a while.”

  “No problem.”

  Corey continued to gaze at her and realized that she resembled a young Helen. The receipt finally printed
, and the office assistant brought it over to him cheerfully. Corey looked at the small piece of paper and his eyes widened. It was like ordering food at a restaurant and then staring at the bill afterwards wondering how the total could be so high.

  “Wow,” he said before handing over his card. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Peters,” she said as she slid the card through a portable machine. “Look at the bright side, you’ll get lots of air miles.”

  Corey flashed his teeth at her. “It’s good to look at the bright side, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. Life is too short.”

  She wasn’t like Helen, Corey decided.

  The office assistant printed the credit card receipt for Corey to sign and handed him a pen.

  “You like working here at Tranquility?” he asked her as he signed.

  Tranquility. Dave Chambers called it a communist word and he was the one who recommended the place.

  “I love it,” she replied. “Everyone here is so nice.”

  He pulled out a business card and handed it to her.

  “That’s great,” he said. “But if you ever need a new challenge, give me a call. I’m a partner in a law firm and we could always use good people in our office.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” she responded. “Thank you so much, Mr. Peters.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied. “Listen, why don’t you…”

  At that moment, a door opened loudly down the hall. Matt “The Cat” Richards came through it and pushed the door with such force that it smacked off a side wall. He was dressed in a wrinkled T-shirt and faded jeans and had a baseball cap on backwards. Matt kept trudging along with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Hey,” he said to Corey.

  “Hi Matt,” Corey responded. “How you doing?”

  “Can we get breakfast somewhere? The food here is shit.”

  The office assistant made a surprised face. The food there was delicious. Corey had seen the menus. He wanted to come to Tranquility just for the meals.

  “Come on,” Matt said as he continued to the front door. “I know a good diner.”

  As Matt went outside, Corey turned to the office assistant.

  “So, call me sometime,” he said.

  She gave him a puzzled look.

  “About a job,” he clarified. “If you ever want to.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Thanks again.”

  Corey waved and left. She held her smile until he was gone and then tossed his business card into a garbage can.

  48.

  After repeatedly finding ways to duck out of going on a date with Charlie Hudson, Diana finally gave in and was now sitting across from him in an extravagant restaurant.

  Between this high-end place and the expensive take-out meals, Charlie was obviously eager to show Diana that he had money…a lot of it. He even got her a corsage for their date and she found this irritating. A corsage? Were they going to prom?

  Diana knew she was being unfair to Charlie, but she couldn’t help herself. She was already doing a slow burn because they were in Yorkville, an area of the city where she and Alex used to love hanging out. She held onto memories of how they walked around holding coffees with their arms linked together.

  A waiter came to Diana and Charlie’s table holding long, single-stemmed roses.

  “Please just add this to my bill,” Charlie said as he selected a rose.

  “Yes, sir,” the waiter responded and bowed as he handed a rose to Diana. “She’s beautiful, sir.”

  “Thank you very much,” Charlie replied.

  Diana knew Charlie meant well, but Alex would have put that waiter in his place for thinking he could compliment a man on his date’s beauty. When it came to stuff like that he was ahead of most men.

  She accepted the rose with a forced smile. First a corsage, and now a rose. Maybe Charlie was planning to drown her with flowers.

  “You do look beautiful tonight,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope you like it here,” Charlie said. “I wanted us to go somewhere simple.”

  Diana surveyed the restaurant. The numerous chandeliers looked like they were made of gold and there were four men playing violins in a corner. The waiters and waitresses were dressed in tuxedos. The entire dining room seemed to be sparkling.

  “It’s very nice,” she said as she picked up a menu.

  “Order whatever you’d like. Money is no object.”

  “Thank you, but I’d like to split the bill.”

  “Oh, no, I won’t hear of it. I insist.”

  Diana lowered her menu and gave Charlie a look. “So do I.”

  “Alright,” Charlie relented. “Well, at least let me get us a bottle of wine.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you prefer red or white?”

  “I don’t really have a preference.”

  Charlie waved the waiter over again and ordered a bottle of red. Diana heard the name of the wine and traced it down the menu. It was the most expensive one listed. After the waiter walked away, she closed her menu and put it down.

  “Charlie, what are you doing?” she asked him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why do you keep trying to impress me with your money?” she asked testily.

  “I’m not –”

  “You know that I’m a doctor, right? I mean, you’ve come by the hospital where I work, and you’ve seen that I’m a doctor?”

  “Well, yes, of course I know you’re a doctor,” Charlie said quietly.

  “Why are you pursuing me?” Diana asked.

  “Pursuing you? I’ve just been trying to take you out.”

  “Why? Showing up at my work, calling me every day. I’m sure you can find women…beautiful women…who would be impressed with all of this,” Diana said as she gestured at the restaurant.

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

  “Why me? You don’t even know me. Our families go to the same church, but you don’t know me. How do you know you want to be with me?”

  “Well, you don’t know me either.”

  “That’s right, I don’t.”

  “So how do you already know that you don’t want to be with me?” he asked.

  Diana opened her mouth to reply, but she stopped. Charlie sat back and looked dejected.

  The waiter returned with the bottle of wine and two glasses. He made a big production of opening it and pouring two glasses as elegantly as possible before walking away. Charlie drained his quickly before going into his wallet and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills.

  “Here,” he said. “We’ll split it.”

  He stood up and dropped the money on the table.

  “Good night.”

  Diana didn’t look at Charlie as he left. Instead, she went into her purse and felt her hands shaking. She needed her pills and did not care who was watching.

  49.

  At first, sixteen/-year-old Alex thought the noise he heard may have been part of a dream. However, when he realized that his mother and father were running through the hallway of their house, he knew something was wrong and opened his eyes.

  Alex stayed frozen in his bed and listened to what his parents were saying so he could try and make sense of what was happening.

  “I’m calling the police!” he heard his mother exclaim.

  “We’re not calling the pol…Maria!” his father yelled. “Put the phone down!”

  Alex got out of his bed and stepped into the hall. His parents were in the living room. He approached slowly and they still had not seen him.

  “Ohmigod,” his mother said.

  “It’s going to be fine,” his father insisted.

  “How is any of this going to be fine???”

  “They’re just sending me a message.”

  Alex peered into the living room and saw his parents kneeling on the carpet where his father was holding a large rock with a piece of paper attached to it. There was broken glass everywhe
re. Alex looked at the hole in their living room window and could feel the breeze coming into their house.

  “Alex!” his mother exclaimed. “Alex, go back to bed. Everything is fine.”

  Alex stood there and did not respond. His eyes zoomed in on the paper that he could now see had been taped to the rock. A large dollar sign had been drawn on it in black marker.

  “Your mother is talking to you,” his father said sternly. “Go back to bed.”

  Alex’s body felt numb, and his feet were heavy. He could not move.

  His father stood up angrily. “Alex! Get back to your room!”

  Startled, Alex stumbled back a few steps. His mother ran over to him and caressed his cheek.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she assured him. “It’s going to be fine. Just go back to bed.”

  Alex looked at his mother and nodded slowly. He returned to his room, closed the door, and leaned up against it.

  “We can’t go on like this,” he heard his mother say.

  “Just get a broom and clean this up,” his father ordered.

  50.

  Alex was the last one out of the changeroom following practice. He was also the first one to arrive, the first one at the gym, the first one in the meeting room, and the first one on the ice.

  As he put his jacket on, he heard the door open behind him and Helen Peters stepped inside the players’ changeroom. Alex was happy to let her speak first.

  “Hi, Alex.”

  “Helen,” he said. “Hey.”

  “I just wanted to say hi to you. It’s been a long time.”

  “Yeah, it has.”

  Alex gathered a few of his sticks and grabbed his equipment bag.

  “I’m glad you came out to play, Alex,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Alex said. “It’s a little harder. I’m a lot older than I was back then.”

  “You and me both,” she replied. “You look good, though.”

  “So do you,” Alex said. “Better than Corey, anyway.”

  She laughed. “Well, I better get back. Working on travel arrangements for you guys.”

  Helen turned to leave, and Alex watched her go. Her calves flexed when she walked. Alex hadn’t been with a woman since he and Diana broke up, and the only other woman he had ever been with was Helen Peters. It didn’t help that Helen was dropping hints and flashing smiles at him.