“The Old Red Barn” as it was affectionately know, was a multi purpose arena that served the Detroit Red Wings as well as numerous boxing matches and professional wrestling. The building itself was the brainchild of numerous Detroit businessmen that formed the Detroit Hockey Club in 1926, immediately purchasing the Victoria Cougars hockey team. When new owner James Norris took control in 1932, he changed the team’s name to Red Wings as the early stages of the NHL began to set. 

The building itself was grandiose at the time. Seating a full capacity of 15,000 and only exceeded by Madison Square Garden in Manhattan and the Olympia London stadium in West Kensington, London it was the ideal place to catch a game. 

The lines at the ticket windows snaked around the corner of the red brick building. Nearly every game, match and show was at least close to full capacity if not over the threshold. 

Phillip was growing accustomed to his new world by now. For some reason, away games didn’t seem as stressful as ones back at home. He could wander around exploring the city in relative anonymity. It wasn’t as if every one was recognizing him back in Chicago but on the road, no one knew who he was. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy that part. It was nice being able to slip in and out of a crowd.

Following his teammates into the Barn, Phillip moved with an extra pride in his step. Maybe it was the way he was playing or maybe it was the way he felt shaking hands with @Jen_Mooney after the game against Red Wings back home. Part of him wanted to get this road trip over with as soon as possible so he could properly take her out in the Chicago night. 

The team all filled out the locker room and after a few coach’s meetings the players began slipping their equipment on, a few players taking the time to sharpen their blades once more.

Phillip was rushing through everything, sitting in the bottom half of his gear before anyone else was even close to half dressed. 

Taking a big swig of water, Phillip tossed the bottle onto the bench as he jumped into the ice. His teammates were beginning to trust him more and more by the day, letting him glide onto the ice with the group of veterans. Hockey is a very close and tight knit community, it took a lot to break their ranks but, if you managed too you were in for life. That was how Phillip was feeling right about now, stepping into the ice behind arguably the best player in the world, Howie Morenz. 

He went through his customary laps, picking up a puck on his tape and quickly snapping his wrists back and forth, cutting up little ice chips as he did. He would curl above the circles the same way every time, immediately flicking his wrists forward, always sending the shot off of his goalie’s pads, allowing him to get a feel for the puck before the game began. 

Coach threw out Phillip to start the game, lining him up on the right wing. He had grown accustomed to the spot by now but not the early start in the game. He usually had at least a few shifts of sitting on the line watching the game play out in front of him.

“Best seats in the house.” He would always joke, jabbing whichever teammate was sitting beside him with an awkward elbow. 

Adjusting his elbows pad with a gloved hand he looked up to see Mud standing across from him, glaring him down, the small cut and bruise still visible surrounding his left eye. There was only a few days since they had last met and apparently Phillip’s opponent hadn’t forgotten how everything had played out. 

Phillip let out a long sigh, he had a pretty solid feeling of what was coming next, involuntarily flexing his fingers, his knuckles popping as he did. 

Mud Bruneteau’s gloves hit the ice before the puck did. He was immediately swinging wildly, clearly going by a names game and hoping that the more punches he threw, the more would connect. Phillip knew what was coming though. He had remembered the way he had embarrassed Mud back in Chicago and he also knew that Mud wasn’t the type of person to let that slide. Phillip was most likely going to have to look over his shoulder each and every time Mr. Bruneteau stepped on the ice from here on out. 

Expecting the fight was the easy part; avoiding the heavy, heavy fists that rained across at him was not. He turned his head down, taking a couple of shots right off the top of his head as he struggled to get his feet under himself for a moment. Mud was certainly pissed off but Phillip wasn’t expecting him to come this hard, this fast. He reminded himself in the moment to make a mental note to be better prepared next time as Mud slammed another weighted fist into Phillip’s skull.

Phillip took another couple of shots before he pivoted on his skates, swinging upwards with his left hand as he pulled down on Mud’s sweater with his right. He felt the crunch not only in Mud’s jaw but also in his own knuckles, pulling his hand back close to his chest as he continued to hold on for dear life with his right hand. 

Luckily enough, he had dazed Mud with that last blow and was able to press his weight forward, pushing his opponent off balance just long enough for the ref to jump in and pull them apart.

Even through the rush of adrenaline, Phillip could feel the throbbing in his hand, shaking it out as best he could as he was escorted to the penalty box.

Phillip only took one more shift in the game after the fight. He grimaced in pain when he tried to grip his stick, an electric shock wave quaking up his arm as he tried to corral the puck. He forced himself to dump the puck into the corner, immediately coming to a full stop before turning back to the bench. He held his arm tight to his chest as he threw a leg over the boards, unable to hide the pain and frustration on his face.

Phillip found it harder than he had anticipated to unlace his skates while attempting to balance a bag of ice on his swollen knuckles. After some wrangling and more than a few grimaces in pain, he managed to kick it off with a thud.

The rest of the gear came off easy enough before the trainer wandered over. He took Phillip’s hand in his poking it here and there and turning it over causing another flash of pain. “At the very least it’s fractured. I suggest you get it checked out.” The trainer started putting his tools away, “We’re heading back to Chicago tonight, you’ll be alright if you want to wait until you’re in a Chicago hospital, the ones around here...aren’t the best.”

Phillip heard the words but he tuned them out a bit. Between the pain in his hand and the worry that he did actual serious damage his head was elsewhere. He gathered his stuff as best he could, heavily favoring his right side as he moved into the crowd of his teammates as they made their way to the train station.

Several Weeks Later

The train ride from Chicago to Detroit seemed to take no time at all, largely due to the fact that Jen slept the entire way. Fortunately, this worked out well and she was wide awake when she finally arrived at the stadium. 

For her second hockey game, Jen had done a good bit more planning. She'd taken a few days off work so she had the whole weekend to herself. She'd purchased a seat in the Detroit arena right up front and center on the side of the visitor's bench, right behind the penalty box. With some of the cash from her job with Oriana, she purchased a new black pea coat and a pretty scarf and beret style hat in a dark red, with matching gloves. It was more than she'd ever spent on herself, but she wanted to make sure she stood out as a Blackhawks fan in enemy territory. 

She arrived at the arena precisely one hour before the game was scheduled to start. The usher guided her to her seat, and she settled in just as the Blackhawks took the ice for warm ups. Grinning, she sat up straight and watched for Phillip. They hadn't had a chance to see each other since their post-game dinner the night they met, but things seemed to go so well, and she really wanted to see him again. She wondered, frequently, if he felt the same way. 

The weeks passed slower then Phillip would have liked. His hand had been wrapped since his last game in Detroit, the small fracture causing enough discomfort that he had to sit out in that time. He was able to skate with the boys at least but any sort of contact or gripping his stick was a no go. It was only a few days before the team was set to travel out that he was given the go ahead from the team doctors. 

It felt good traveling with the team again, he didn’t feel like he was out on an island by himself anymore. He was able to seamlessly slide back into the group, laughing and joking the way they always did. They even let him sit in on the poker game in the back of the train but that may have been more to take his cash than anything else. 

He was growing antsy as the team made their way to the arena. They were all speaking around him but he didn’t hear much, an occasional name would slip through but that was about it. He was so focused everything else seemed like it was under water.

Finally getting to the locker room, he dressed as quickly as he could, dying to get the feel for the puck again. Phillip was by far the first one dressed and was heading out to the ice before most of the others even had their skates on. He grabbed a couple of pucks on his way out the door, tucking them into his glove as he went. 

He paused just before he reached the ice, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath of the crisp air. He was back home now, where he felt most comfortable by far. Leaning against the half wall for a moment, he let his eyes wander through the crowd, it was still early so the arena was mostly empty save for a few scattered clusters of fans here and there.

His eyes stopped as they fell on the dark crimson of someone’s hat. The smile spread across his face as he recognized her. He hadn’t seen her since dinner after that game in Chicago but anytime he wasn’t near the ice his thoughts kept falling back to Jen_Mooney. He wondered for a quick second if she was thinking the same but he quickly pushed those thoughts away, she was here after all. Which means she made the effort to be. 

He tried to refocus as he stepped on to the ice and found it harder than normal. He kept his head down as he skated now, occasionally snapping a puck off the boards, picking it back up on his tape and sliding his wrists back and forth, trying to regain a feel for it.

Dick was excited for the first show in Detroit. He had never been to the city before but had always heard good things. The arena was very nice, on the newer and already filling up with school children and families. Some of the kids carried their brightly colored balloons inside as Dick stood by the entrance gate occasionally glancing down at his watch.

Waiting a few more minutes, he quietly slipped inside, nodding at the security guard as he passed him by. The bowels of the arena were set up rather smoothly, not like some of the underground mazes that compromised some of the other arenas that were around. He found his way to the dressing area, smiling and waving at a few of the other performers as he passed by. The light chatter grew louder as he pushed the door open, stepping inside as he dropped his bag. 

Moving with the precision of a season vet, he quickly slipped into his suit before he started his stretches and began mentally preparing for the show.

Dick scurried into position as the announcer began his spiel, the crowd murmur growing louder as he went on. Dick waved to the crowd as the spot light came up. With the adrenaline rush he couldn’t feel the pain radiating out from his ribcage. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, whispering something quietly to himself.

He was glad that he had decided to stay with the show. It was all he knew really and it was providing good coverage for his...other, less savory lines of work. 

Dick started off on the right rope, placing his hand down as he flipped his legs over himself, landing the flip with ease. The crowd grew louder as he continued spinning, dropping off the rope altogether just to grab it with his outstretched hand at the last moment and swinging himself back. The gasps grew louder as he pulled off the move with ease. 

The smile spread as he pushed off with all the strength he had in his legs, jumping towards the trapeze, catching it and flipping around so he was now dangling by the back of his knees. Dick did a few more flips, waving to the crowd as he did, always in control of his motions. Dick grabbed the other bar, twisting himself to land on the other side. With a bow of his head the crowd yelled loudly once more as he dismounted.

It had been some time since Dick last put on a show and unfortunately, with his arm still in a sling, he wasn’t going to be preforming tonight either. He was there as any other spectator, watching the show even though he had a better view than most from back stage.

It felt good to be around the friends that he had been forgetting about lately. He couldn’t really blame himself though. With everything going how it was with Katrina, he had to deal with the more pressing issues first. He still hadn’t made that call after he returned from Seattle. They were safe, that was all that truly matter, it wasn’t going to hurt things to let Katrina swing in the wind for another day or two. Dick might have been being petty but it wasn’t the worst thing he could do. She kept her mouth shut for five years, he could keep his shut for five days. He’d get around to it, he reasoned with himself. 

As he watched the show, Dick realized how much he missed everything. It wasn’t so much the trapeze or tight rope but it was the workers. The clowns after they washed off all their makeup, the ring leader who was far more sheepish in real life when he wasn’t in his bright red jacket and top hat. These people had become family to Dick over the majority of his life and a big part of him felt like he was letting them down each and every show he missed. Of course, with the stitches still healing and his arm being next to useless, there wasn’t much he could do at the moment but he promised himself as soon as he healed up, he would be right back in the thick of things. He missed the circus too much to stay away for too long.

Dick stepped into the building through the player’s entrance, quickly working his way through the hallways as he made his way to the dressing room. Tossing his bag onto the countertop in front of the mirror, Dick slipped out of his jacket before kicking his shoes off. It had been a little bit since he was last here but he was looking forward to it. Being atop the high wire always helped to clear his mind. He could block out all the background noise when he was up there. 

It only took him a few minutes to get changed giving him enough time to take a seat and relax a bit. He ran a hand through his hair as he sat back in his chair, kicking his feet up and resting them on the counter in front of himself. He took a few slow, deep breaths as he controlled his heart beat, slowing it down to the point that it was the same as if he were sleeping. It was an acquired skill that came in handy not just here but out in the world when he had to take care of more serious things. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting when he heard the knock on the door, “Five minutes, Mr. Grayson.”

Without a word, Dick pushed himself up out of the chair, taking one last look over himself in the mirror before he headed for his waiting spot, pulling the door closed behind him. 

The nerves were never there when he was doing this. It was second nature, simple for him. It was something that he could do in his sleep. Something that made him happy, regardless of what some of the citizens had to say about most things around here these days. 

Dick watched the crowd for a few moments before he heard the announcement of his name once more, making his way out into the center of the ring with a smile and a wave.

Dick scaled the pole to the highest reaches of the arena, stepping into the small platform as he continued to smile and wave. Everything seemed far easier all the way up here, as if the rest of the world wasn’t even there at all. It had been some time now since his last show and Dick decided that it was now the time to introduce something new to his set. Reaching into the waistband of his suit, he pulled out a black handkerchief and quickly wrapped it over his eyes, leaving him in darkness as the crowd below gasped loudly. It wasn’t something that he had tried before but he trusted his skills more than anything else and didn’t really give it a second thought. He knew that he could do it. 

After a deep breath, Dick took a confident step forward, feeling out for the wire with his front foot, he balanced precisely as he was supposed to, spinning in a circle before planting his next step. There were no awkward movements, no wasted steps, everything was exactly how it was supposed to be exactly when it was supposed to be. Each move felt right. 

Dick finished his routine with a few added flips and spins, not once faltering despite having no vision at the moment. It came across as easy, fluid, the way that it was supposed to be. Finally removing the cloth as the cheers below grew louder, he used the small ladder to climb down, landing softly on the ground after leaping from one of the higher rungs. He took a quick bow before moving back into the shadows of the back stage area, heading towards his dressing room without bothering to look back.

Thomas had never been to a hockey game before, truth be told he didn’t know much about it. He was slightly skeptical when his point of contact in Detroit told him their meeting would be at the Detroit Olympia, during a game against the Boston Bruins no less. 

It was a public enough place that he wasn’t worried about anything terrible happening but with more eyes and ears around, it was always an added risk. Thomas hadn’t made his way for this long without learning a few tricks of the trade. He understood how things worked better than most and he had to take this as a calculated risk. He had worked with this particular contact before and it always worked out before. There wasn’t much reason not to trust them now.

After asking an attendant to point me in the right direction, I made my way to my seat with drink in hand. The crowd was rather energetic even before the teams reached the ice with plenty of chatter and boisterous half drunken laughter. 

“Hell of a game, huh Tommy!” I felt a heavy hand clasp onto my shoulder from the seat behind.

”Sure thing, Marv,” I rolled my eyes as I kept them forward on the action. “Like I’ve got a fucking clue what’s going on right now.”

I wasn’t kidding, I was completely lost but I was also thoroughly enthralled. The score was close at a three to two game and there had been plenty of bone jarring hits from both teams that they crowd would stand up and hoot and holler over. Hell, there were even a couple of scraps. The referees didn’t even get involved, they let them throw until they were gassed and stepped in. The fighters even tapped each other on the head as a show of respect before heading off to their penalty boxes. They got to catch their breath for five minutes before jumping back on the ice as if it never even happened. 

”I’ll be honest with you, Marv,” I stated as I turned slightly in my seat, “I didn’t know what to expect when you decided on this place but I’m rather glad that you did. I think I may have to set up a few more of these meetings at the other arenas around the country.”

”It’s like a drug, once you’re hooked, you ain’t goin back for nuthin!” Marv’s heavyset jowls shook wildly as he laughed, deep and rich.

After a few minutes of watching the game, I turned back, “Speaking of which, everything set for the transfer?”

”Ahh, come on Tommy!” Marv slapped my back hard enough to make my drink splash onto the floor, laughing as he did, “They’ll be plenty of time for that! Enjoy yourself, would ya?!”

I was enjoying the game and all, but this was still a business meeting and I was growing impatient. Marv had never dicked around before and while it may have had something to do with the setting, I was starting to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Turning fully you face Marv now, I lowered my voice to a low growl, “I’m not fucking around here, alright? Let’s get on with this already. I don’t have all goddamn night.”

”Ok, ok, don’t get all whinny on me now.” Marv threw his hands up in mock surrender, “Everything is on time as scheduled. All ya gotta do is show up with the cash. You, uh, you do have the cash, right?”

As soon as Marv mentioned the cash, a chill ran up my spine. In all the times I had dealt with him, not once did he ever mention cash, especially not in such a public setting. It was always some code word, stuff, things, product. Hell, it was just about everything else but the words cash and money. 

Whatever this was, it wasn’t good and I needed to step out of the situation as quickly and as subtly as I could. ”I need another beer, want one? I’ll be right back.”

I hit the hallway at nearly a dead sprint. I didn’t know if this was a setup. A sting. I wasn’t planning on sticking around long enough to figure it out. I hit the parking lot at full speed, racing to my car before hopping in and getting the hell out of there. I’d have to deal with Marv on a different day.

The work that brought me into Detroit was better off being dealt with in a public place. There was less of a chance of things going sideways. Too many eyes and ears around ought to keep everyone calm. Or at least calm enough.

I decided on the Detroit Olympia mostly for its proximity to Michigan Central Station. Granted at the moment that might not have been the best choice. Especially not with some deranged, delusional individual that was running around shouting at the top of their lungs and hanging up meaningless posters.

God forbid someone takes responsibility for their actions. It’s got to be someone else fault, all the time, no matter what. They weren’t anything but the funeral that I was going to skip right on by. It was damn near impossible to respect people like that. Fortunately, I didn’t have to.

The crowd in the stadium was nearly half full as I made my way past the ticket booths. It was a mixed crowd. Some families, some men dressed in business attire carrying around their briefcases. It was the perfect place to slip in unnoticed. And with this many eyes around, anyone would be on their best behavior.

I double checked my ticket stub before finding my section, placing my back against the wall, watching as all the hurried voices hustled on by, heading to the concessions or their seats. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but then again, that was kind of the whole point. To nearly everyone else here, this was just another Tuesday night game, the hometown Red Wings versus the Montreal Canadiens, Gordie Howe versus Maurice “Rocket” Richard, two superstars of the game.

I caught my contact’s eye from fifty or so feet away. I took a deep breath as I nodded my head in his direction. Placing the briefcase I was carrying down, I took a half step away from it before he did the same with his. It was a straightforward transaction and I had worked with him before, he knew that this was quid pro quo. If he screwed the deal, he knew what the consequences would be. They weren’t worth the hassle of trying to make a few more bucks for himself.

We moved through the crowd, not acknowledging each other as we passed by. As I reached the case he left, I bent slightly at the waist, not breaking stride as I picked it up. I gave my ticket another glance, I thought about finding my seat and watching the game, it was going to be a good one but I figured that it wasn’t the smartest thing to be sitting with a briefcase full of drugs between my feet for three periods. 

This place looks like Chicago Stadium.  Friends of mine own that now

I'm gonna take this one