Russian Liquor

Landon sat back down in a huff as soon as Adam was in the locker room, mumbling something about a fucking Yakupov, the dirty mother fucker. I figured he was talking about a brand of Russian liquor — maybe whoever had hit Adam was hungover and wanted to be doing anything other than playing hockey. I asked my brother about this and he asked me if I’d lost a few braincells since he’d last seen me.

“Is that even a serious question, Greer?” I shrugged. “Can you believe this, Owen? She has no idea who Nail Yakupov is.”