Overnight Sensation

by Sarina Bowen

  “Do they visit often?”

  “Couple times a year.”

  She puts one silky hand on my arm. “I promise to be out of your hair soon.”

  And that’s my cue to leave. Because I like her touch way too much. “Goodnight, you pain in the butt.”

  She smiles at me in the dim light. “You don’t have to go, you know.”

  “Yeah, I really do.”

  “Do I get a good night kiss?”

  Oh hell. We both know how good that could be. “That’s a bad idea.” I stand up before I give in. “You sleep well. Tomorrow you can call the police, okay? File a complaint against the asshole who took your money.”

  “I will,” she says with a sigh. “But they won’t get it back.”

  I put a hand on her head, and then I lean down and kiss her hair. I meant it as a friendly gesture, but even the sweet scent of her as my lips brush over silk is too much. “Night,” I say in a husky voice.

  Then I retreat to my own room and shut the door.

  It isn’t a great night’s sleep. My dreams are charged with coaches yelling at me. And then, towards dawn, I have a sexy dream about a certain girl with blue eyes and soft hands.

  When the alarm goes off, I open my eyes warily. I’m turned on and overtired. It’s not a nice combination. I want to roll over and close my eyes again, but morning skate starts in an hour, and later I need to pack for our first road trip.

  So I get out of bed and do some stretches to wake myself up. When I’m dressed and ready, I open my bedroom door to a curious smell.

  Is that…bacon?

  I pad into the kitchen to find Silas seated at our table, looking like a king at a banquet. He’s eating a waffle with a fried egg on top. There’s also bacon and a wedge of cantaloupe on his plate.

  “Whoa,” I say as Heidi turns to face me from the counter. “What happened here?”

  “Breakfast,” she says with a forehead wrinkle. She looks at me like I’m an imbecile. “Don’t you eat breakfast?”

  “Um, yes?” It’s just that it doesn’t look like this. “You don’t have to cook for us.”

  Silas makes a noise of dismay and then a slashing motion with his hand. “Will you please shut up? Do you not see all this good food?”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Heidi says. “Here’s yours.” She offers a plate, and it’s just like Silas’s. The scent of waffles and bacon fills my nostrils, and I begin to come around to Silas’s way of seeing things.

  “Thank you,” I say, sitting down hastily and grabbing the silverware that she’s already put out for me. “We have a waffle iron?”

  “You sure do,” she says. “But I peeled a sticker off it. I don’t think you ever used it before.”

  “Oh.” I wonder what else is in my kitchen? “Where did you get these groceries?”

  “I ran out this morning.”

  “Save the receipt,” I say.

  “It’s already on the fridge.” She points at a slip of paper trapped with a magnet. “I’m happy to run errands, but cash is tight.”

  I put a piece of waffle and fried egg in my mouth and then moan a little. “Is that cinnamon?”

  “Yes,” she says, stacking more waffles onto a piece of waxed paper. “The little store didn’t have real maple syrup, and fake maple syrup is garbage. These waffles are going in your freezer. If you microwave them for twenty seconds and then toast them in the toaster, they will be very good for leftovers.”

  “Can I have another one right now?” Silas asks.

  “No,” she says shortly. “Too carby. But you can have another egg if you need more calories.”

  Silas and I exchange a curious glance. “Got it,” he says as we both try not to laugh.

  “While you’re away—assuming the police don’t magically find my money, and that I don’t also find an instantly available apartment I can afford—I can take in your mail and do errands and water your plants.”

  “There aren’t any plants,” I point out. “But thank you.”

  Silas chews a piece of bacon with a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, this is a big issue for some players during the season. They need sporadic help with errands and groceries and stuff. If you’re looking to pick up extra cash, you might want to offer your services. You could charge by the hour. Bunch of guys live in this building, so you could take in everyone’s mail at once.”

  Heidi sets a half melon down on the counter and turns around to face Silas. “Really? That’s a thing?”

  “Sure.” He shrugs. “Every year guys are trying to figure out how to get their groceries delivered right as the jet lands in New York. How to get their suits to the drycleaner’s. There’s services for all that stuff, but it’s piecemeal. And they’d trust you with a key. It’s like a different level of service.”

  “Silas,” she breathes. “I could kiss you right now. You’re a flipping genius.”

  Something goes wrong in my gut at the idea of Heidi kissing Silas.

  And then it gets worse when she lunges over to him and hugs his head, which effectively puts his cheek against her boob. She says some more gushy words about how excellent his idea is.

  Silas pokes his head out from under her arm and grins at me.

  Annnnd I’m done here. I stand up suddenly and carry my empty plate over to the sink for a rinse.

  “Just leave it,” she says. “I’ll load the dishwasher in a minute. You have practice, but I don’t have to show up for my security shift until four.”

  “What’s there to guard when there’s no hockey game?” I ask.

  “No idea,” she says. “But I already know it will be unpleasant.”

  12

  Heidi

  The Bruisers are headquartered in a restored warehouse that’s part of the Brooklyn Navy Yard complex. After I pull the large brass door handle and step into the lobby, I am treated to the sight of a highlight reel playing on a big screen.

  Someone changed the video over the summer, incorporating all of the team’s best moments from their winningest season. I pause to take in a clip of O’Doul scoring a goal against the D.C. team during the first round of last year’s playoffs. This is followed by a clip of Jason’s goal against Tampa. He rushes the net and puts it between the goalie’s legs. They call that the five-hole in hockey.

  This week I’ve watched all three of my boys’ away games. Sadly, Jason never found the five-hole. Or any other holes. The best he could manage was a single assist on a power play. My favorite forward is still really shaken up over his move to right wing.

  He’s going to be a grumpy bear when he gets home tonight. Any athlete would be.

  I cross the lobby and then follow a glass tunnel down toward the brand-new practice facility. I’m on an errand for Bayer, and he’s not paying me to stand around watching tape.

  When Silas suggested that I offer to do errands for the team, he was really onto something. That first morning I mentioned it to just two other teammates, and by noon I had incoming texts from another dozen hockey players. In the last five days, I’ve done errands for the lot of them.

  For O’Doul and Ariana—the team masseuse—I checked on the progress the contractors were making on their renovation two blocks away. I made sure their doors were locked in the evening after the workers left.

  For Trevi and Georgia, I took in the mail and the drycleaning. And I bought the groceries they wanted on hand for their return. I did the same for Beringer.

  Now I’m here to pick up Bayer’s medical file from the training department. It’s x-rays of his knee, or something. I don’t ask questions, I just fetch things. I’m charging twenty bucks an hour, and everyone’s getting their first emailed invoices tonight.

  My apartment money will be replenished twice as quickly this way.

  The folder I need has been left for me on a desk outside the treatment room, as the receptionist had promised. I tuck it into my messenger bag and turn around to leave the facility.

  “Hey!” Rebecca says, stopping t
o greet me. “Long time no see. What brings you here?”

  “Errands for the players. It’s my second job.”

  She blinks. “That’s very resourceful.”

  “It was Silas’s idea. My next stop is Trader Joe’s on Gold Street. I’m delivering food to six different apartments before the team jet lands.”

  “How are you going to manage it all?”

  “I’ll take a cab back to Water Street and then split my carfare cost among my clients. I bill twenty bucks an hour in six-minute increments, plus incidentals.”

  Becca bursts out laughing. “You’re going to run the world someday.”

  “Maybe.” As soon as I get out from under my dad’s thumb.

  “I hope you’re not working around the clock,” the new team owner says, her hands on her hips.

  “Nope. Last week I was assigned to stadium security, but they could barely give me any hours while the team was on the road. Wednesday I got called in to work some kind of banquet across town, though. I thought that was odd. It didn’t have anything to do with the team.”

  Rebecca’s eyes get round. “What? Where was this event?”

  “At a social hall on Court Street. I can forward you the email telling me when and where. Do you think the security company is padding your bill, or something?”

  “Probably not?” Rebecca says, but she looks thoughtful. “Send me the details, and when we receive our bill at the end of the month, I’ll check it over thoroughly.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I agree, edging toward the tunnel back to the street. “I’d better get going.”

  “Let me walk you out,” Rebecca says. “You’re giving me ideas.”

  “What kind?”

  She’s quiet as we pass the doors to the practice rink. “Could I trouble you for a report on every department where you’re working? You could bill me your standard rate.”

  “You want me to spy?” I squeak.

  Becca stops walking. “Is that awful?”

  “No! I love espionage.” This is going to be great. “Did you know the hotdog seller uses cheaper buns for the cheap seats? But charges the same price?”

  “Get out of town!” Becca gasps. “That’s awful.”

  “I think they’re selling off-brand beer and mislabeling it, too. I wasn’t really paying attention but I swear someone hooked up a tap with a beer of a different label.”

  Becca leans back against the glass bricks of the tunnel and closes her eyes. “I shouldn’t be so surprised, right? But I still am. What if everyone is cheating us?”

  “Don’t panic. I’ll take a second rotation through concessions if it helps you. I’ll smell like hotdogs twice for you, Bec. So long as you appreciate it.”

  She lets out a peal of laughter. “You really want that office manager job, don’t you?”

  “Badly,” I whisper.

  She taps her chin. “It’s not going to be easy to leave that position open for another two or three months. But I’ll try.”

  “I’ll be worth it, I swear.”

  Becca grins. “I don’t doubt it. Where are you working this week?”

  “Licensed apparel. It’s boring but not smelly.” I’ve only done two shifts so far, and I can’t complain. “I’ll write you a report for everything I’ve done so far.”

  “Good work, intern.” She slaps me on the back. “I’ll read every word.”

  I have never seen so many groceries.

  Shopping takes me a really long time, because everyone’s list needs to be kept separate. And, as I shop for six hockey players, certain trends emerge.

  One—hockey players eat a lot.

  Two—hockey players like avocados. I have never bought so many avocados. If there’s an avocado company listed on the New York Stock Exchange, I’m going to direct Daddy to invest part of my trust fund in it. When I finally get my hands on that money—in fifty years, when Daddy has eventually forgiven me—my inheritance will have quadrupled.

  “You must be very hungry,” the cabbie says as I load fifteen shopping bags into the back of his car. I’ve already written every player’s name on the bags in Sharpie marker.

  But this guy doesn’t know that. “Actually, I’m eating for four,” I say, patting my stomach.

  His brow furrows as he closes the trunk. He can’t decide if I’m kidding. “Congratulations,” he says eventually.

  “Thank you. If only I knew who the father was.”

  The man climbs into the front seat in a big fat hurry, while I give myself a private high-five. Nice girls don’t make tasteless jokes. But I’m breaking all the rules these days.

  In the back of the cab, I pull out my phone to see if I’ve forgotten anything. But no. Every single item on my to-do list is checked off. Tonight I can send out my invoices and collect my moonlighting cash.

  There’s only one thing missing. My little business needs a name. I’m considering Mighty Heidi, because it almost rhymes. But it’s not quite right…

  A text pops onto the screen. It’s from Eric, my ex. My finger hovers over the notification to dismiss it, but then I happen to glimpse a snippet of the message. I’m in town for an interview and I’d like to take you to dinner.

  Well, crumbs. If he’s in town, can I really refuse to see him? That’s breaking about seventeen different rules of etiquette.

  I tap on his name and call him. Half of me hopes he won’t pick up. But then he does. “Heidi Jo,” he says in a soft voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice? Please tell me you didn’t butt dial me.”

  “No,” I say, already wishing I hadn’t called. “I saw your message.”

  “Can I see you?”

  “Well, it really depends on the day. My father has me working some strange jobs lately, and the hours are pretty unpredictable.”

  He chuckles, as if that’s just so adorable, and my temper flares. The men in my life never take me seriously. “Well, I’m only in town for thirty-six hours, but I’d really love to see you. I miss you so much. I’d like to take you out and spoil you.”

  “That’s really nice, Eric,” I say gently. “Maybe that could work.”

  “I hope so.” He sighs. “Still don’t know why you had to leave school.” And me. I hear those extra words at the end of that sentence even if he won’t say it. “Pennsylvania isn’t the same without you.”

  “I’m pretty sure Pennsylvania will survive.” Although I’m so tired right now that Eric’s nostalgic tone is wearing me down. Maybe I’ll have dinner with him, if my schedule permits. Is it awful that I miss having a guy who calls me every night before bed and whispers I love you?

  “Look, I’m thinking of graduating early,” he says. “This interview is for a job that would start in February. In the analyst-training program.”

  “Wait, what?” That wakes me from my reverie. “But that’s right in the middle of hockey season.”

  His chuckle is low and warm. “Figures that would be your first concern. But the Villanova Ice Cats will just have to make do. It’s my last season to play anyway, Heidi Jo. It’s not like the Brooklyn Bruisers are going to come calling.”

  He’s right, I guess. Most college hockey players are done with the sport on senior night. But who could ditch his team right before the playoffs! “It must be a great job opportunity. Is it at a bank?”

  “Goldman Sachs. It’s top-shelf. If they offer me the spot, I’m taking it.”

  “Oh,” I say slowly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll wow them with your smarts.”

  “I’ll wow them, and we’ll celebrate with a nice dinner. I’ll send you my itinerary. If I’m in town for two nights instead of one, that doubles my chances of seeing you, right?”

  “Yes, I guess it does.” I’m just not sure how I feel about it.

  “You take care, honey. Can’t wait to see you.”

  We sign off just as the cab pulls up in front of my boys’ Water Street condo building. I get out on tired feet and begin to pull grocery bags out of the trunk of the cab.
<
br />   The condo’s doors open and Miguel emerges, rolling a brass bellman’s cart. That solves the problem of how a girl can deliver groceries to five different apartments. God bless millionaires. They’ve thought of everything.

  “Where to, miss?” Miguel asks. I’ve confused the heck out of him this week, as I come and go from a half-dozen different apartments.

  “It’s complicated,” I tell him. “Could I borrow your wheels for fifteen minutes while I make my deliveries? I need to get these perishables into the fridge.”

  “Of course.” He steps back. “The drycleaner also dropped off shirts for…”

  “…Trevi,” I say. His were the last to arrive, because he uses a different shop than the rest. “Load ’em on here. I’ll take care of everything at once.”

  My feet are screaming by the time the freight elevator doors open to accommodate the cart.

  If Becca was right, I will run the world someday. I only hope that world domination comes with foot rubs.

  13

  Jason

  Every road trip is hard. But usually I’m not feeling quite so discouraged.

  We won two and lost two, but my contribution was poor. I’m worried, and I know my teammates are, too. Because they’re being so fucking nice to me right now. Bayer is holding the door for me as we all trudge into the Million Dollar Dorm. And Silas let me pick the music in the cab on the way back from the airport.

  That’s how you know it’s bad. If these dudes thought everything was okay, they’d be assholes like usual.

  “Pizza and beer at our place later?” Silas offers to our teammates. “I need a dose of Grimaldi’s, but I’m too tired to go out.”

  “Sounds good,” Bayer and Beringer both agree.

  “Maybe,” Leo says. “Gotta see if Georgia made any plans.”

  “Gotta check with the little wife,” Bayer prods him. Then he makes the sound of a whip. But Leo just smiles to himself, like he knows a secret. Leo has two goals from our first road trip. His season is well underway. He doesn’t need anyone’s approval, and he knows it.