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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

John

Back in Dallas, the commissioner arranged to have an undercover agent meet me at the gym.

He looks like a trainer and fits in perfectly.

He gives me three small recording devices.

One for the suit I’ll wear to the game; it’s flat, thinner than a credit card, hidden in the pocket square.

The other two look like tape. One I stick on my shoulder pad, just under my jersey and the other on my hockey stick.

So, there’s no way I can warn him about it first. My phone is being monitored and probably other places just to make sure I’m not involved in the money laundering scheme. Or whatever it is.

Before I take my pre-game nap, I call Corbin and ask for permission to ask his sister to marry me.

Of course, he asks about the article, and the normally quiet guy, like Becca, gives me an earful about hurting his sister and how this is my last chance.

If I fuck it up this time, we’re no longer friends.

I ask for a favor and by the time I wake from a half-hour energy nap, there’s a message waiting on my phone.

Corbin: Got the ball rolling.

Me: You’re the best .

Becca and I decide to keep her pregnancy to ourselves for a little while longer. At least until we see the heartbeat next week. Becca has arranged our doctor appointment during the Rattlers series with the Notes, so I can be there.

Yesterday, we talked about alternate careers and how it would work with the baby.

Becca seemed low and not connecting with her job.

She realizes that she’s not real friends with her colleagues.

They have lunches and dinner, but it’s all about work and the occasional gossiping about a co-worker or client.

With the baby coming, she doesn’t want to work more than she sees me or the baby.

She’ll quit the Fireflies Dance Team since she’s pregnant. I said to her, “You can dance for me anytime.” She gave me a playful smack on the arm. “Seriously, you may be changing shape, and our life may be too, but we’ll find a balance that makes us all happy.”

Becca absolutely loves competition and being active. It was obvious from our vacation that she thrives on it. She was so full of joy when we were doing stunts and playing volleyball on the beach.

When I arrive at the arena, my dad is waiting for me. Why the Rattlers give him unfettered access is dumbfounding. He didn’t play for the Rattlers, ever.

As I walk toward him, panic cuts through my nerves. What if he finds out I’m wearing a wire? If he does, there’s no limits on what he’ll do. I swallow my fears because this is my life, not his. I’ve only talked to him a few times since vacation and when the gossip about me started.

“Son, glad to see you’re taking hockey seriously. We need to talk.” He sounds relaxed.

Mr. Cross and the FBI have instructed me not to provoke him at first. We’re going to see if I can catch him with honey instead of vinegar. But if I need to piss him off, I come complete with an arsenal of ways to do so .

He draws me into a cool hug without any feeling and slaps my back.

“Dad. Thanks for coming. I feel better if you’re around. My teammates aren’t happy with me. I tried to tell them that I didn’t bet against us. I bet for someone else. Of course, they don’t believe me because when they pressed me on who I made the bet for, I kept my mouth shut like you told me.”

“Deny. Deny. Deny.”

Deny, defend, and make counter accusations is my father’s motto. It’s not possible to count how many times he has said that in my lifetime.

“I did. But are you in good standing with the people who were going to hurt you if I didn’t cooperate? Because we may have our issues, but I know you love me, and I love you.” I wrap a saccharine smile on my face.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “You’ve never asked me point blank.” He hesitates, then pats me down, probably considering the odds of me betraying him.

I lean into him, whispering to make it appear that I’m keeping this between us.

“Because I’m worried about what you’re caught up in and what I need to do to protect both of us.

I don’t know why, but I still love you even after you slept with Stella while she was my girlfriend,” I say with such concern, there’s no way he could suspect that I’m trying to trap him.

And I don’t love him anymore. That’s awful to think about, but how could I after he obviously planted the story,

John Basilio gets dragged into the commissioner’s office on game day.

“Just do your job, son. The league isn’t going to take you down. Not after that pink hair tribute a few months back. He grabs my suit coat by the lapel and says, “Just keep your mouth shut, and they can’t do a thing to you or me.”

“Maybe not the league or the cops, but what about the people blackmailing you or threatening you?” I ask as he keeps me close.

His eyes narrow, giving me a look that’s half-suspicious when he finally whispers through gritted teeth, “You don’t know the whole story, John.” He glances around even though we haven’t encountered a single person.

He fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves, one of his nervous habits, and lowers his voice. “Everything I do is to keep you safe. I couldn’t keep your mother safe… I won’t put you at further risk. That’s not a gamble I’m willing to take.”

My jaw tightens. “But you already placed your bet, didn’t you? You brought me into this the second you asked me to place a bet against my team. Now they think I’m crooked. Everything I worked for since I was six years old may be gone because of you.”

“Damn it, John, I did what was necessary. It wasn’t about me.”

“Then who the fuck is it about? Yourself or…”

His long-hardened fingers clamp down on my shoulders. “You don’t get it. I couldn’t say no to Giacomo Saccone.” His voice is thunderous, and his body is shaking.

At first, I can’t believe my ears. Saccone, Stella’s father. Dad’s eyes widen for a split second—he knows he’s slipped. I don’t dare let my reaction show because I never expected her dad to be involved. He’s a music mogul.

I school my face just in time. “And why is Stella’s dad so interested in the Gamblers? You owe him money or is it something else?”

He removes his hands from me. His veil of self-control snaps back into place, but I see the sweat beading up along his forehead. “Forget what I said. If anyone finds out—about this, about him—none of us are safe. Especially you.” His voice threatens me to heed his warning.

Playing the part of the good and loyal son, I say, “Okay.” The word hesitates on my tongue. “Listen, I need to get to the locker room and figure out what to say to the team. ”

I begin to walk away, my heart ticking in the quiet as I go through his words. What did he mean about Mom? My feet falter and almost stumble when I turn back. “Dad, what do you mean you couldn’t keep Mom safe?”

His hands make a tent over his nose, then he drops them with a sigh.

“I cheated on your mom with Saccone’s first wife, and he said he would make sure I never played hockey again.

” His eyes fill with tears. “I loved your mom, John, but I wasn’t a good or faithful husband.

When Giacomo Saccone found out, he killed your mother out of revenge and…

he threatened your life and mine if I didn’t go along with whatever he needed done. ”

His head drops, his shoulders sag, and he sobs. For the first time, I realize my dad is only half-asshole. He’s truly trying to keep me safe. I drag him to a seat in the stands as I glance at the clock on the wall. Three hours until game time.

“I thought she died because of internal bleeding?” I ask, confused by all the confessions and how I feel about each part of them.

“She did. She was beaten so badly, her spleen ruptured, and then she died from internal bleeding.” His words are brittle and fragmented.

Fury builds inside me. Stella’s dad or his cronies killed my mom, but I have to ask one more question. “Then why are you sleeping with his daughter, my former girlfriend?”

“Stella’s my handler.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “By you dating Stella, marrying Stella, it would ensure our loyalty to Saccone and our safety. I was hoping she would betray her father.”

“So you sent Stella back every time we broke up?”

“No, her dad did. Then he gave me the audacious ring for you to propose.”

“Dad, that’s one thing I will never do. I will never marry her, no matter what. In fact, I’m asking Becca to marry me next week. I’d love for you to be there when we play the Notes,” I say to keep up the loving son act. But after hearing this, maybe I do believe him .

All this time, I thought he only cared about himself. And don’t get me wrong, he’s as self-centered as they come, but most of what he has done is in the name of keeping me safe and keeping us both alive.

“If I’m alive, I’ll be there. Now get out there on the ice and show the world who the best Basilio is. Cause it’s you, son.”

This time, the embrace is warm, and tears fall from our eyes. When we break apart, I ask, “Do you know how those photos of Becca and I were taken and leaked to the press?”

“Saccone has eyes everywhere, but it was probably Stella that leaked them. She has the connections.”

This time, the embrace is warm, and tears fall from our eyes.

It’s not until I get to the locker room and undress that I realize that the FBI heard everything. And now, I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Will Becca, the baby, and I will be safe once this all comes out?

I’m the only one in the locker room, so I round the corner to the hallway where the staff office is located and rap on Coach’s door. “Hey, got a minute?”

He frowns and huffs, making it clear he’s not happy with me betting against our team. He waves his hand to come in, and I shut the door behind me. My phone buzzes with a message from Mr. Cross. “We got it all. Good job.”

I don’t respond because I’m still processing. I hand my phone to Coach and let him see the text. He gives me a quizzical look and says, “What for?”

“You’ll have to ask the Commish. It’s above my pay grade, but I want you to know I am all-in on this season with this team.

I would never throw a game. I watched the game against the Gamblers for the past two days, and I put together twenty-four minutes of highlights.

I included each time they scored and where I was on the ice.

How I fought for my teammates like I always have for the past decade.

Watch it and decide for yourself, but I did not throw the game.

I love this game more than the air I breathe. ”

He watches for a few minutes and says, “Get out of here. You have a game to play.” But he keeps my phone,

A few players have gathered in the locker room with their AirPods in their ears or the beats over them. Hawley comes up and says, “Basilio?”

“Yeah.”

“I watched the game against the Gamblers and if anyone threw the game, it was Johansen. You played your heart out.”

A half-smile cracks my stoic facade. “I did. And Hawley… thanks. It means a lot to me that you wouldn’t judge based on an article.”

A half hour later, the whole team is gathered around the sleek wooden benches and chairs, and Coach comes in, tossing me my phone.

“There’s something that needs to be said, and I need to say it.

John Basilio bet against our team. It wasn’t his money, and he played that game like he does every game with integrity and veracity.

With skill and speed. And of course, it wouldn’t be a Rattlers game without John defending his teammates and spending some time in the penalty box.

I have verified this with the commissioner, so if any of you have something to say about it, let’s get it out in the open now. ”

Friesz starts a slow clap, then it gets faster and faster. Palici yells, “Let’s rally around John and show the hockey verse that the Rattlers stick together, and we’ll fucking spit venom for throwing shade on our captain.”

Our team pats my head and arms, standing with me and their support means everything to me.