Cort’s room in the ICU at Bellford University Hospital was filled with flowers. Bash almost thought about trying to open a window—the air wasthickwith the smell of lilies and roses and a dozen other types of bloom.
“Do you even like flowers?” Bash asked Cort, who was staring away from him. Cort had had a hard time looking at Bash ever since Bash had arrived at his room ten minutes ago.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Cort said weakly. He was propped up on several pillows, one arm in a sling. He wore a hospital gown, but Bash knew that below the gown, his shoulder was bandaged.
Cort took a deep breath and let it out through his lips. “I’m really sorry, Bash.”
Bash sat in the vinyl chair beside the bed. “For what part, Cort?”
Finally, Cort turned to face Bash. “For selling drugs to our teammates,” he said flatly. “For taking drugs. For encouraging teammates to take drugs.”
Bash nodded. “That’s a start.”
He was angry at Cort, though it was hard to be angry at Cort when he was still recovering from being shot. Cort had identified his shooter as a man named Justin, a local who sold him drugs. Apparently, the rest of the guys on the team that Cort had been reselling the drugs to had decided to stop paying when Justin informed Cort that he was raising his prices. When Cort told Justin he couldn’t pay, the situation escalated into an argument. Cort had threatened Justin, Justin pulled a gun, and then made a very stupid decision to shoot Cort in the middle of the Rink. Cameras caught the whole thing.
The entire Bellford hockey team underwent rigorous drug testing. Four players had traces of performance-enhancing drugs in their systems. The Ravens were disqualified from the NCAA tournament. They would’ve competed in the Frozen Four. Odds were, they would’ve won.
But what did winning mean if they had, apparently, been cheating the entire time?
“I’m being expelled, you know,” Cort said.
“I know.”
“My parents are cutting me off financially, too. Bash, I’m sorry for everything.”
“I heard you the first time.”
A tear ran down Cort’s cheek. “I feel like shit. And not just because I was shot. Did I ruin your chances to play in the NHL?”
Bash sighed. “No, you didn’t. This doesn’t help, but I never took any of your drugs. My reputation is hurt; my record speaks for itself. Look, Cort. I’m sorry you were shot. That shouldn’t have happened. You did some stupid shit, some bad shit, but you shouldn’t’ve been shot for it.”
“Do you think it’s right that I was expelled?”
“I think you broke some clear, significant rules,” Bash said. “I think you broke somelaws.Expulsion might be showing you mercy.”
“I’ll never play hockey professionally, now.”
Bash clenched his jaw, looking down. Despite his anger toward the younger boy, he felt a twinge of pity for him. He didn’t know what had motivated Cort to buy and sell drugs; still, he could imagine the fear that Cort was feeling as he looked towards his future.
“Look,” Bash said. “I am glad there are consequences to what you did. You needed them. You had to learn somehow, Cort. I know that is harsh, but it is true. But…Coach Kurtzman made me your mentor, and I think he did so for a reason. Even though you’re done with Bellford, I want you to know that I am still here for you. If you need help figuring out what is next for you, I will help you. If you need someone to talk to, I am here for you. If…if you need a friend, I’ll be that friend.”
Cort’s eyes were wet when he looked at Bash. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Bash held out his hand. Cort, using the arm that wasn’t in a sling, shook Bash’s hand.
“You’ll be okay,” Bash said. “I know you will.”
He sat with Cort for a little longer, and Cort asked Bash about Amsterdam, said he was sorry about Bash’s father, and asked Bash if he’d finally gotten the balls to date Adonis.
“You noticed us?” Bash asked.
“I’m not stupid. After he came with you to rescue me in Minneapolis, I started to pay attention.”
When Bash left, they parted with a smile.
Bash waited until he was outside the hospital to make the phone call. He spoke in Dutch for a few minutes with his lawyers back in Amsterdam. When their conversation was over, he thanked them and hung up.
With the death of Gerard Koning, Bash had found himself suddenly very, very wealthy. A significant amount of the wealth was tied up in shares of Koning Kapitaalgroep (though, when he had given up his position to one day become CEO, he had also surrendered most of the 28% of shares that had been his). Another significant chunk was locked in various trusts, offshore accounts, and companies.
