by Brown, Tara
“Have you seen Matt?” Sami snarls, no greeting. “Did he tell you the butterflies that are supposed to be at the photoshoot aren’t going to make it until brunch on Sunday?”
“Firstly, Matt’s busy running off his blue balls,” I joke, sort of. “And the butterfly thing doesn’t sound like that big of a deal. Your brunch dress is stunning. It’ll look awesome with the insect show.”
Her lips twist into a grin but she’s fighting it. “Shut up, Lori.” She cracks an actual smile but there’s exhaustion in her eyes.
“Why aren’t you ready for the spa? The schedule says it’s spa day. Is it really the insects?” I ask with a lot of doubt in my tone and sit on the sofa as Nat strolls in eating a plate of nachos. She sits next to me and lets me steal a chip.
“Lori, you don’t understand, I want everything—”
“Yah, yah. You want everything to be perfect. But at this point it seems like you’re being a dictator and your wedding day is two days away. By now, you should be done all your hard work at making it perfect and enjoying the vacation part.”
She wrinkles her nose and I wait for the blast, but she deflates into a whiny baby. “Lori, I just want everything seamless. I don’t want the world to be disappointed. I want my fans to think I knocked it out of the park, not half-assed it because I had too much rosé the night before. My whole life I’ve been a screwup and this is the first thing I’ve done right.”
“Hey, that’s not true. I saw the wet tee shirt contest footage. You were amazing,” I tease and she covers her face to hide the laughing.
“I hate you.”
“You don’t. At all. Come here,” I pat the sofa.
She walks over, defeated but still anxious. She snuggles in, smelling me. I hate it when she does that but I let it happen.
“It’s your wedding, Sami. Yours. The people who need to think it was perfect are you and Nat ‘cause we both know us guys are nothing but decorations.”
“At least you know your place, Lori,” Nat says.
“I do. I also know you’re running yourself ragged, Sami, and for what? So you can ruin your happy day with some bullshit brand you’ll be working on for the rest of your life? Is that worth hating your wedding?”
“But—”
“No buts. You’re going to see this day as a job, part of your work. And that critical eye will ruin everything by second guessing your choices instead of sitting back and having fun. Trust the decisions you’ve made and let them be enough.”
“Another one for Lori.” Nat strikes the air as if she’s tallying points. “How did you get so smart for such a cute guy?”
“Focus, Nat.” I wrap an arm around Sami and force her head onto my shoulder. It’s my turn to smell her. “The rooms are perfect. The farm is stunning. The food is outrageously good. The drinks have been some of the best I’ve ever had. The guests are hand selected and the exact people you want here to share in this magic. You worked so hard to plan every detail, trust your instincts. You hired all the right people and they are rocking this job and no longer need you. So it’s time now to let the cameras catch you enjoying the fruits of your labor.”
“He’s right again,” Nat says with a little taunting song in her voice.
“I’m always right.”
“We’ve all been trying to tell you this.” Nat lifts her eyebrows. “You’ll be haggard on your wedding day at this rate. We need a spa day. Everyone is meeting us there at one.”
Sami pouts, not relenting.
Taking a deep breath, I decide the time for asking is over. She needs to be told. “You want the world to see that hard work pays off and the reward is the next three days being bliss.” I climb off the couch and drag her with me. “So I am telling you now, go and enjoy that spa day you have planned. Relax and have fun. Real fun. And if the cameras catch it, cool. If not, fuck it. You don’t exist for your fans. You think I play hockey for everyone in the rink screaming at me? No. I play because I love the game.”
“Amen!” Nat raises a hand with a chip coated in queso.
“What are you saying amen to? Get your ass off the sofa.” I snap my fingers at Nat impatiently. “Nat, seriously, chips down. Sami’s ready for spa day,” I bark.
Nat scrambles up and grabs Sami’s hand.
“When you look back on this, Sami, what do you want to remember? Planning nonstop or smiling and laughing and eating and enjoying? And you also need to ask yourself if you planned this for us or for you. Because we’re having a sweet time and you’re in your room yelling at insect people.” I cock an eyebrow.
“Fine.” Sami loses her fight. “You’re right.”
“Do not let her plan or stress one bit. Every one of us has a friggin' itinerary. There isn’t a second that isn’t planned. It will be perfect. Fun. Relax. Enjoy.” I point at Nat. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Yes, sir!” Nat’s lips turn up into a wide smile. “Have fun fishing.” She obviously knows we’re going paintballing but keeps the lie. She winks at me as we walk out and they get into their golf cart.
“Have fun, girls.” I wave as they drive off, relieved it went as well as it did but certain there will be five more pep talks before this is all over.
The sound of another golf cart comes around the corner as Sami and Nat disappear. “How’d it go?” Brady asks as Matt parks it.
“Good. She’s off to the spa. I might have convinced her to settle down.” I pause and stare at them. “Were you hiding in the woods waiting for them to leave?”
“No.” Brady scoffs but Matt nods.
“Maybe it’s time you pop your balls out, Brady—”
“How is she?” Matt has no time for our shit.
“Good, ish. But I also think we’ll be back at her by tonight. She wants to control every aspect even though she’s hired perfectly capable people and overexplained her vision.” I have to grin at the misery on his face. “Ready for paintball?”
“Fuck you, Lori,” he says with a laugh and we’ve clearly won. Paintball is on.
“You are grumpy.” Brady elbows him in the ribs. “I’m on your team, Matty. Look at the cranky face.”
Matt growls.
“We should have brought our cups. He’s gonna shoot us in the dick.” I climb into my golf cart and follow them as Brady woohoos and whistles all the way to the course.
When we get there, it’s packed with the team and Matt’s family. The hillbillies are raring to go with all their own equipment. And I see why. The course is as epic as was sold to us. It’s huge, has to be two acres, at least. It resembles a military training site with massive trees amongst the bunkers and fences and burned-out tanks and trucks. There’s even a tree house for snipers.
“Damn,” Brady moans.
“Yeah, my family is pumped,” Matt says, glancing at his cousins as we walk into the massive arena.
“This is some badass shit!” Brady reminds me of a kid in a candy shop. I don’t think I’ve seen him look at Nat like this. He grabs my sleeve and shakes me. “I am going to kill everyone!” He points at Carson and Rich who stick out like sore thumbs next to Cap and the boys. Carson is wearing a pale pink polo and Rich has on a silvery one. Rookies. “Everyone!”
Carson does a jerking-off motion at him, making Rich sneer and Cap laugh.
Brady rushes forward to the poor guy who is outfitting people with gear and trying to go over rules.
“This is about to get dirty,” Matt mumbles. “I already regret it. She’s going to murder me. And then I’ll have to come back and murder you two.” He eyes Brady who is pretending to shoot everyone in the crowd with crappy sound effects.
“You might need to remind everyone no face shots. One swollen ear will lead to a lot of other injuries when Sami sees it.”
“I’m going to shoot you in the dick at least once, Lori,” Matt admits softly before he follows Brady in.
“Yeah, I figured.” I take a deep breath before walking over as Matt begins reading the rules to the amped-up masses.
“No face shots. If Sami sees one injury, we are dead. You’ve all seen how tense she is.” Matt spins in a circle. “I want a friendly game, no cheap shots. Wear masks or goggles—”
“I’m not wearing goggles or a mask.” Brady scans the whole group. “I’m kicking the shit out of anyone who shoots me in the face.”
“You’re wearing the mask, everyone is!” Matt snaps.
“It’s—it’s actually the rules, Mr. Coldwell,” the poor guy handing out gear stammers. “Everyone has to.”
“This is shit,” Brady takes the mask and grumbles.
“Brady’s already crying? This should be interesting,” Bev says as she saunters over in camo pants and a heavy long-sleeve tee shirt. She has a weapon and a mask already.
“It’s going to be—” I pause. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be with the girls at the spa?”
She lifts the gun, clearly her own gear, and offers me a fierce stare as her reply.
“Fair enough.” I don’t need her to defend her desire to shoot a bunch of dudes. She is a hundred percent that bitch and there isn’t a man here who doesn’t fear her.
“You ready?” she calls behind her. I follow her gaze to where Red is walking along. She has on black jeans and a thin camo hoodie. She and Bev are dressed like they went to a metal concert before coming here. She too is holding a personal rifle.
“You can’t be here,” I say.
“Oh, so I’m good enough to peep in my windows and watch me dance in my underwear, but not good enough to play a friendly game of paintball with?” She’s faster than I expected. “Maybe you should sit this one out, if you can’t handle girls beating you.” She walks past me coldly as if the donair bonding never happened.
Bev steps into the crowd, barking at everyone over Matt who is still talking. “Listen up, morons. This is a fight to the death. You little city bitches better bring your A-game.” Bev nods at Cap who stands in front of the team. “It’s us Henderson crew against you pucks. May the best woman win!” She lifts her gun and treks past the guy in charge, ripping the bundle of her team’s vests from his hands.
She and Red head onto the course, choosing a side with Matt’s cousins trailing behind them.
“Was that the ginger?” Brady perks up.
“You’re in charge of him.” Matt glares at me and points at Brady. “I’m joining my family so I can shoot you both in the dick fairly. Good luck!” He stalks off, leaving the rest of us standing here.
Brady makes a crazy excited face, and I have a bad feeling this is about to get real.
11
Walking the trigger
Jenny
Bev’s cousin Eddie hangs a large red flag on our team’s flag house as Bev reads us the riot act while she hands out the dark-red pinnies—or vests as the Americans call them—to our team, “I don’t care what Matty says, every shot goes in the face or dick. We are not getting beat by some flashy, fancy-ass pucks. Those assholes have never played a Henderson game of paintball.”
The crowd cheers and I realize we are not the only girls. There are a few of us.
“Jenny, Eddie, Branson, and me will go after their flag. Everyone else stays here. If they get our flag, you have me to deal with, and I’ll tell Gran how you betrayed the family and let some Yankee swine whoop us!”
Eyes lower, making me wonder about the grandma who seemed so nice at dinner the night before. Although, if she was any part of raising Beverly, it all adds up. She must be terrifying once you get to know her.
Branson starts filling everyone’s guns and handing out grenades. “This is just like home. Stay to the sides of the course. Don’t be a hero. No middle action. I better see some sliding out there, if you get taken out by a New York Ranger, you have to wear that badge of dishonor your whole life.”
Matt comes and stands next to us. Beverly sneers, “Get back with your team, soldier. We don’t want no hockey player traitors on our side.”
“I’m one of you.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Let him stay, Bev,” Eddie comes to Matt’s defense. “But you better not suck.”
“You’re letting her stay but you have a problem with me?” Matt points his thumb at me. “I’m family.”
“I like her, Matty. You, I’m still not convinced about. Especially, not against them.” Bev points across the field.
He sighs but doesn’t budge.
“Fine, but if this is some kind of sabotage, I will eat you for breakfast and I’ll tell on you.” She points at him and turns back to the guy in the middle of the course. We can’t even see the other side or their flag, it’s so far.
Matt glances at me as he puts his mask on, speaking low as Bev barks at everyone else to get into position. “And how did you end up in her good graces already?”
“You don’t want to know.” I wink at his wide-eyed stare and pull on my mask. It takes a second to get used to the feel of it.
The horn blows and Bev and I run to the right, hugging the tape line as Eddie and Branson go left. Matt follows us, trying to stay low but the guy is enormous, even compared to Bev and I who are both tall.
Music starts playing loudly over speakers high up in the trees, making it impossible to hear anyone else.
My heart races and I’m on high alert. We’re running and ducking, scanning and rushing forward.
Movement to the right catches my eye. Someone is out of bounds. I run and superman slide along the grassy ground, hiding under the cover of a large bush. A player from the blue team comes around a tree, and I plant a perfect shot right between his eyes, soaking his mask in yellow paint.
“Fuck!” he cusses and I roll to the left, getting up fast and catching up to Bev. She’s shot down someone else, and Matt shoots another person who has Bev in their sights. She nods at him, making him beam in a weird way. He clearly needs her approval, which endears him to me a little.
“Walk the trigger, Matty.” She holds up two fingers on her hand and wiggles them back and forth. “Stop curling your fingers, you’ll be too slow.”
Bev and I hustle forward, sprinting and stopping behind an old car. Paint blasts the car near us. I shove Matt down, tripping him to save him. As he’s falling, I swing my gun to the right and fire, hitting the chest and face of the person, soaking them in yellow.
Bev takes down two guys who are running up the middle like idiots.
Matt struggles to get up while Bev and I make our way to the bunker on the left, close to the tape. She walks the trigger to give me cover as I pull a grenade. I don’t know if anyone is in there, but I toss the bomb in and run.
As we run to the right, clinging to the tape, the bomb explodes, blasting yellow paint out the small windows and doors.
I’m heaving my breath as we each hug a tree with our backs. She turns my way, but I can’t see her expression through the mask.
Matt catches up, muttering, “What the fuck?”
We ignore him and run, moving with speed and stealth up the line to hide behind a fence. She takes a different section of fence than I do. I check the right side first, keeping my body tight so as not to chicken wing and stick an arm out.
When I see no movement, I rush to the left, switching my gun mid jump and sneaking out the left side. Movement and a bright silvery shirt sleeve catch my eye. I shoot, blasting with rapid fire up his whole torso. Someone with a pink shirt sleeve runs for him, and I blast him with yellow paint too. Bev sees what I’m firing at when she comes right and tosses a grenade at them. It explodes and soaks them in paint.
“Oh shit,” Matt says with a breathy laugh.
“I’m hit!” Eddie screams from the left.
“You’re with him!” Bev shouts at me and points at Matt as she sprints off to the left. “Cover me!” She tucks behind a shack.
I don’t look, just shoot. Matt joins me, realizing too late what we’re doing. Bev moves fast across the field and forest until we lose her in the course.
“Come on!” I shout at Matt. “Stay low!”
When I get to the next bunker, I say, “Cover me,” and reload. When I’m done I lift my gun. “Reload.”
He follows my lead, speaking softly as if he’s talking to himself, “How are you so good at this?”
“Let’s go.” I ignore his question and move forward, catching someone hiding behind a bunker. I run at him, firing so he has to take cover. I blow past him shooting, hitting his side and face.
At the next bunker, Bev and Branson are with us. She offers a quick thumbs up and moves forward.
“Go, I’ll cover!” I say to Matt, waving him past me. He doesn’t know I’m using him as bait. And he’s lucky I’m a good shot. He’s so huge that when he moves forward, he brings all the boys to the yard. I shoot one in the arm and face, another in the back. I drop three of them and catch up to him.
Someone shouts, “I’m hit!”
Branson moves from the field with his arms up, gun in the air.
“Fuck!” Matt yells, drawing my gaze. A shirt I recognize comes around the corner painting Matt’s body with blue. I run and football slide coming up on a bush. I lean back as I’m sliding, shooting and skidding, painting Brady’s face completely. He screams, drawing attention.
As I jump up, I snatch Matt’s gun from his hand and leave mine. It’s almost empty and he’s hardly shot anything. No wonder Bev didn’t want him.
Paintballs are flying over my head as I duck into a bunker. “Bev!” I shout as balls explode all over the building, drawing their attention to me. “Go for it!”
I shoot through the window, seeing movement and trying to draw more fire on me. The build of the person getting close is familiar.
It’s Lawrence.
As I scan the bunker for something, a glimmer of hope in the form of a flicker of light in the back catches my eye. I hurry to it as he gets closer, realizing it’s a trap door. I slip out the small door backward, slithering on the ground and backing up. I stay in that spot, my gun aimed at the door. The little door lifts, moving like a cat door, and I fire, shooting him in the face point-blank. His mask is completely covered in yellow paint.