The next morning, the three roommates are sitting around the cleared dining table in a painful silence. Nick has his head on the surface, in a deep sleep; Brandon is staring down at the surface, lost in thought; Joseph is holding his head with his fist, staring at his two roommates with a cynical expression.

“Well, someone has to make the food,” Joseph points out in a snarky tone.

Nick perks his head up with a dazed expression. “Huh?”

Joseph turns to Brandon. “Monty?”

Brandon swings his head to him in haste. “What?”

Joseph lowers his eyebrows. “Who’s gonna make the food?”

“Well, Maxi, right?”

Joseph narrows his sharp eyes at him.

Brandon’s eyes fly open in realization. “Oh, um, you—?”

Joseph flies to his feet, slamming his hands flat on the table. “I’ll get the spanakopitas—!”

“Ahhh, I’ll make breakfast!” Brandon shoots off from his seat and rushes into the kitchen.

He halts in between the island and the countertop, taking in the foreign area of the house filled with strange culinary equipment. “Oh...man.” He makes an expression of uneasiness.

---

Joseph and Nick are sitting at the dining table when plates start being placed in front of them. They perk up from their sulking and peer down at what the plates are displaying: pieces of black squares, a crumbled, white substance with crispy, golden edges, and bubbled, thin, blacken circles.

Standing over the table is the cook. “Ta-da?” Brandon puts on a big, unsure grin.

Joseph and Nick revert their gaze to their roommate; the two are gaping at him.

“I-I tried, okay?” Brandon holds his hands out in front of him. “Give me credit for that.”

Joseph rises up from his seat and grumbles, “I was gonna get the spanakopitas.” He then storms off into the kitchen.

Brandon sinks into his chair with a sadden expression. He peers down at the plate of black squares, then scoops one into his hand.

He scrutinizes it. “I don’t think the toast is that bad—” Once he bites down against his, his eyes fly open. “Ack!!!” He lets the toast go flying out from his grasp to cover his mouth. “That’s a rock!”

Nick reaches for the toast his friend had thrown and bangs it on the fork. The fork dents right on contact. “Yeah, that’s a rock,” he concludes softly; he tosses the inedible food back to its plate.

A plate of steaming spinach and feta cheese wrapped into mini triangular filo dough appetizers is plunked in the middle of the two.

“Eat,” Joseph orders as he sits himself in his chair.

The three roommates then begin taking the Greek treats from the plate and munching on them.

Brandon swallows and turns to the two. “Okay, we’ve gotta have some system here to work without Maxi here.” He points to himself. “Like I can cook—"

“You’re never gonna cook again,” Joseph states gravely.

“Okay, then YOU can cook—”

Joseph leans back with a disgusted expression. “I don’t wanna cook for you guys.”

Brandon looks ahead at the other side of the table. “So who’s gonna cook?”

“I’ll get my own food from the pancake house,” Nick says to himself as he peels the filo flakes from the triangular-shaped food.

Brandon points to him. “Great, Nicky can buy us food.”

Nick perks up in a dazed confusion. “Huh?”

Yet Brandon continues on: “And who will wash the dishes?” His eyes are on Joseph as he extends his hand behind him, where the sink is located.

“I’m not gonna wash any of your guys’ dishes.” Joseph tears a piece of spanakopita off with his teeth.

“Fine, I’ll wash 'em.” Brandon raises his eyebrows. “And the laundry?”

Joseph gives him a deadly glare. “No way.”

Brandon leans back against his seat with a slight frown. “You’ve gotta do something to help out here.”

Joseph slides his eyes away and grumbles reluctantly, “I’ll do the dishes.”

“Okay, fine, that means I’ll do the laundry.” Brandon throws his hands in the air. A reassuring smile forms on his face. “I think we’ll survive without Maxi.” He nods his head with confidence.

Then the doorbell rings: Ding-dong!

Joseph immediately turns around in his chair to face the foyer. “Maxi?”

“That’d be a miracle!” Brandon pops the rest of the spanakopita in his mouth as he hops from his seat. He ambles to the foyer and opens it up after swallowing. “Hello?”

On the other side is a man displaying a sophisticated attire consisting of a red polo shirt, khaki pants with a brown belt, and brown loafers. He has a round face, mellow, brown eyes, brown hair that is brushed to the side, and some stubble around his chin along with pale skin.

“Oh, hello there!” The man exclaims with a tone that perfectly matches his mien. “Are you Brandon Montour?”

Brandon becomes intimidated by the stranger’s presence, making him appear unsure. “Yeah… And you are…?”

“I am Dustin Tokarski, the newest member of the San Diego Gulls.”

Joseph and Nick walk up from behind Brandon to see the visitor.

“Oh?” Brandon’s eyebrows shoot up. “How did the Gulls acquire you?” He shoves his hands into his jeans’ pockets.

“By that trade with the St. John’s IceCaps.” Dustin places his hand on his chest. “The Ducks traded Max Friberg for me.”

“You replaced Maxi?” Joseph growls with menacing eyes from Brandon’s shoulder.

Dustin turns to him. “If you’d like to put it that way, yes, I did. Thanks to Mr. Friberg, I am now here!” He puts on a satisfied smile.

Joseph gives him a snide expression. “Wow, way to rub it in our faces.”

Dustin eyes him with raised eyebrows. “What was that?”

Brandon slides more in between the two, facing the newcomer, and exclaims, “Um, okay, cool! Thanks for stopping by—”

Dustin calmly waves his hands in front of him. “Wait, wait, wait, you didn’t introduce me to that guy.” He redirects his hand to point straight at Joseph, making Brandon scoot aside to see whom he is pointing to.

Joseph crosses his arms and snaps, “You don’t need to know who I am.”

“I don’t have telepathy, you know.”

Brandon jumps closer to Joseph and pushes him deeper into the foyer while crying out to Dustin, “That’s Joseph Cramarossa and he’s not the best mood right now.”

Joseph shoots daggers with his eyes at his teammate as he scrambles to get out of his grasp. “Why did you tell him—?!”

“Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Cramarossa,” Dustin replies, nodding his head once at him.

Joseph rolls his eyes at him with a snort in return.

With that, Dustin turns to Brandon. “I hope to be seeing you all soon on the ice. Farewell for now!” He gives them a quick wave, then turns around, steps down from their porch, and exits their front yard.

Brandon closes the front door and faces the interior of the house.

“I hope we’ll never see that Maxi replacement again,” Joseph grumbles as he flounces around the bend of the foyer and toward the dining table.

Brandon follows him through the living room; Nick comes from behind him. “Well, he is part of the team, so there’s really no way of avoiding him…”

The two join Joseph back at the dining table.

Joseph sulks in his seat with his eyes casted down and his arms crossed. “If only Maxi was here.”

Brandon tells him calmly, “Trust me, you’re not the only one who wants Maxi here. But hey--” He peers up at the two. “--we have a game tonight! Let’s win it for him, okay?” A growing smile appears on his face.

“Yes.” Joseph slams his fist against the table and slides up to a decent sitting position. “ He adds in with determination: “For Maxi.”

---

The night rolls around and so does game time. The Nest is buzzing with fans and music as the San Diego Gulls play against the Charlotte Checkers, the AHL affiliate of the Carolina Hurricanes.

“Holding, Stefan Noesen!”

“Goal by the Checkers!”

“Delay of Game, Brandon Montour!”

“Holding, Joe Piskula.”

“Aw, I just wanted to tell him what a great player he was!” Joe exclaims to the referee as he is being led to the penalty box.

“Another goal by the Checkers!”

“And your Gulls score! Nick Ritchie, assisted Stefan Noesen and Brian McGratten!”

“Holding, Stu Bickel!”

“Cross-checking, Joseph Cramarossa.”

“Goal, Checkers!”

“And that’s the end of the game! Three to one is your final score! Gulls had great opportunities, but fall to the Checkers…”

Notes

E.2 "Here Comes Trouble...!"
Part 6/7
Episode 2/20