Blitzed(61)

"For eighteen years, you made me feel like I wasn't worthy of love or affection. You made me feel like shit!" I yell, and I notice on the periphery of my vision that the neighbors have come out again, and behind me, I can feel Whitney standing in the doorway, Laurie still holding onto her mother's leg. "You beat me—you nearly killed me! And now you come trying to mooch off me again, scaring my daughter and the woman I love? Get lost!”

The cops pull up while he’s still holding his arm and sobbing on the lawn, drunkenly screaming curses at me and claiming that I'd crippled him. Maybe he does have a broken wrist or a dislocated shoulder. I don't know, nor do I care. It’s with a certain sense of ironic satisfaction that I see that the cop who gets out is George Walters, and he already has his handcuffs ready. "We got a call of a disturbance, Troy. What's going on?"

"He frightened my daughter and verbally assaulted Whitney before taking a swing at me. I threw this piece of . . . this person out of my house," I say, correcting myself. "This time, I'm pressing charges."

George nods and rolls Dad over, ignoring his cries of protest as he hooks him up and yanks him to his feet, hauling him over to his cruiser before pushing him into the back. George closes the door, then comes back over. “It's not that I don't believe you, but if Randy claims otherwise, I'm going to have to arrest you too. This is technically a domestic violence case."

"No, George," Whitney speaks up, and I turn my head to see Whitney holding up her phone. "I got the swing and part of it on video."

George nods, and Whitney pops out a data card that she passes over. "The selfie generation sometimes has benefits," George says with a smile. "All right then. Troy, I would like you to come down to the station still, to make a statement. Miss Nelson, you don't have to, but you can if you want.”

"What I'd like most is to calm my daughter down," Whitney says, stroking Laurie's hair. She’s stopped crying, and when I kneel, she lets go of her mother's leg to come to me, and I hold her tightly, tenderly kissing her forehead.

"Shh, it's okay, Laurie. I'll always protect you."

"That man scared me." Laurie is looking at me, her blue eyes so large and still shimmering in tears. "I thought he'd hurt me or hurt you."

"Never again," I promise her, kissing her again. "Besides, if all of the Bolts can't hurt me, what chance does one old man like that have against me?"

Laurie smiles at my little joke and hugs me again, and I hold her close, closing my eyes to let myself just feel her close and safe. When she lets go, I get to my feet and pull Whitney in for a hug. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Whitney says, kissing my cheek. "But I think I'll take Laurie back to Mom's place. You've got a statement to make, and I have work this afternoon."

I nod and stroke my hand through her beautiful auburn hair. "Okay. I need to call the Hawks too—team policy. Maybe afterward, we can have dinner as a family?"

"I'd like that. Give me a call later.”

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too."



It didn't take as long as I thought it would to wrap things up at the station. Being a celebrity, apparently, I was interviewed by the Chief of Police, who showed me the video after I gave my verbal statement, and one of the other cops was quickly transcribing it for us. "So why didn't you just kick his ass?"

"Come on, Chief, I'm a professional athlete. If I threw a punch at him, I'd be here for possibly killing him. Second, the League frowns on players getting into fights, regardless of whether we're provoked. And most important, my daughter and Whitney were in the house. I’ll be a better father than Randall was to me."

The Chief nods and reaches over, switching off the tape. "Okay. Well, hang out here for a moment while Bert finishes up the transcribed statement. I've already had the Hawks contact me—I'll give them a call back and tell them that you're totally blameless for this. You were at home, and we've got you on video trying to de-escalate, and you acted with more restraint than I think I would have."

"Oh, I'll still need to talk with Coach tomorrow, but thanks. It'll smooth things over a lot."

I sign the transcribed statement and leave the station, which is co-located with City Hall. Silver Lake Falls is still one of those towns that is small enough that such things are common. I'm surprised when I see Coach Jackson standing outside, apparently waiting for me when I walk out. "Don't you have practice this afternoon, Coach?"

"I can get back for that," he replies, his hands in his pockets. He's dressed as a history teacher right now, and I can't help but smile at the little stain of yellow chalk dust on his sleeve. Coach is one of the only teachers who still has a real chalkboard in his room and still likes to use it. "I've got Mrs. Gibbs covering my last period class. They've just got a video today anyway."

"Thanks for coming down then," I say, and the two of us start to walk through the park that is located next to the City Hall complex, the grass and old oak trees providing a peaceful respite from the stress of the morning. "How'd you find out?"

"I'm technically your agent, remember?" Coach says with a chuckle. "I'm in third period with a bunch of freshmen who I'm trying to explain the real reasons Columbus takes off to the west instead of going around Africa like everyone else does back in 1492, and my phone rings. My wife knows that I don't take personal calls at work, so it has to be an emergency, and next thing I know, I'm talking to the General Manager of the Hawks, who tells me that you're here, Randy's been arrested, and could I please stop by the station to find out what's going on. What else could I do?"