They got destroyed—of course they got destroyed—but since even McAllister let a few through and Singh could only catch so many attempts, there was nothing they could do about that. After the game, during the obligatory pizza and beer, Richie told Carpenter that Skip had to bail on his date so he could take care of him. Then he told the whole damned world about Skip throwing a sledgehammer through a car windshield, even though he still didn’t remember what actually happened. “Skipper?” Galvan said, raising an elegant black eyebrow in a handsomely chiseled Latino face. “Skipper threw a sledgehammer through a windshield. Are you sure this wasn’t a hallucination?” Galvan’s eyes twinkled as he manipulated the top of Richie’s head and pretended to be checking both eyes. “People imagine all sorts of things with a concussion!” Richie shook his head (not too hard—he’d admitted privately to Skip that he had a motherfucker of a headache and not even the pain meds could completely squash it) and waved his hands.
