Lights Out Lucy_Roller Derby 101

by Elicia Hyder

  She didn’t have to tell me twice. I sprinted on my skates to catch up with my friends—and to get away from Medusa. “Come on, Lucy!” Grace yelled, holding her hand out.

  I skated toward her, grabbed her hand, and she twisted her whole body to whip me forward. I’m sure I was flailing around the track like a cartoon character trying to maintain my balance. Despite the weakness in my thighs and lack of sleep, I miraculously didn’t wipe out. I slowed when I reached Olivia.

  She pulled out her mouthguard and hooked it on her collar. “Nice of you to join us today, Miss Cooper. You look like you had fun last night.”

  I put my hands on my cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

  “To me?” she asked. “Yep.”

  I gripped her wrist guard. “It was spectacular.”

  Her eyebrow had a skeptical arch. “Spectacular?”

  “Olivia, it was so good, I sneezed in the car on the way here and it hurt my vagina.”

  She burst out laughing. “Had you regained your virginity?”

  If it were medically possible, it had been long enough to regrow a hymen. My last relationship had been with Ryan Dixon, the guy whose heart I’d broken when I left Charleston to move back home and help take care of Mom.

  “Thankfully, no,” I said.

  “You’re seeing him again tonight for the party, right?”

  I smiled. “And with any luck, I won’t be sleeping at home after.”

  She bumped me with her hip, and somehow I didn’t fall. “Well, I won’t wait up.”

  “Are we here to work or are we here to chat?” Medusa barked at us.

  Olivia elbowed me. “Come on. Let’s do some hip whips.”

  We took turns grabbing each other’s waists and hurling ourselves forward. A move not made for someone with an overworked groin region. Maintaining my center of gravity was exceptionally difficult.

  Grace and Monica were doing leg whips across the track. I pointed at them as Grace did a karate-like side kick and Monica grabbed her skate. “Don’t even expect me to do that.”

  “It was that good, huh?”

  I grabbed her waist and pulled to propel myself forward. “Yes, but I wouldn’t be able to do that anyway.”

  “Stop, stop!” Medusa was yelling at us again. She skated over and pushed me out of the way. “You’re not pulling enough, newbie. Olivia is sturdy on her wheels, really grab and put your weight into it.”

  She grabbed Olivia’s waist and pulled herself around much faster than I had. She spun backward on her skates. “Now you.”

  I grabbed. I pulled. I moved a few feet. Nothing impressive enough for Medusa.

  She tapped Olivia on the shoulder. “Go skate with Styx.” Then she shouted over her head. “Styx, work with The Prodigy!”

  So Olivia’s name had traveled. I wondered if they all called me Trip Hazard behind my back.

  “Who are you again?” Medusa asked.

  “Lucy.”

  “Yeah. That strikes fear into the hearts of bitches everywhere,” she said with a smirk. “Get behind me. Grab my hips and go.”

  I skated up and grabbed her, but she immediately slapped my hands and plowed to a stop. “You’ve got fingers and palms, not just fingertips and nails. Really grab my hip bones, Lucy. Again.”

  She started moving, and I followed behind. I grabbed two handfuls of her taut waist that time.

  “Good! Pull!”

  I yanked so hard, she wavered a little.

  “Excellent. Next time you pull, skate out of it. You’re not getting a free ride here. Maximize your speed by sprinting out of the whip. Again!”

  We continued this a few times around the track. Then she whipped off me. She did a lot of yelling about bending my knees and settling into my hips. My oh-so-painful hips.

  “Now, arms!” she instructed. “Right hand to right hand, and grab my forearm with your left. Bend your knees and skate out of it.”

  I charged her, grabbed onto her hand, and flew forward, sprinting on my skates. I’d never moved so fast outside a car or a roller coaster in all my life. I had to sidestep around Zoey to not plow into her.

  “Again!” Medusa called as I came back around.

  After three laps, I was panting and pouring sweat. I held my hands up in a “t” shape. “I need a break. Water!”

  She looked at the clock. “It’s been nine minutes.”

  I bent at the waist and grabbed my knees, breathing so hard that my mouthguard flopped out onto the concrete. Then her skates were in front of me. Black, with white skull laces. I straightened and wiped sweat from my eyes.

  She was pissed. “Next time, don’t show up late and half asleep, still wearing your boyfriend’s clothes.”

  I swallowed and nodded my head.

  She blew her whistle and skated back to the track.

  *

  It was four o’clock when I woke up in my bed to a text message from West. Pick you up at 6?

  I’d been asleep for three hours.

  Thanks to Medusa, I hardly had the strength in my arms to text him back. 6 is perfect.

  After practice, I’d come straight home, skipping lunch with the girls for the first time since we began the tradition. Everyone knew why. And if they didn’t before, they knew it when Olivia serenaded me with “Like a Virgin” and the rest of the team joined in.

  I spent the next hour in the bathtub like I’d done in the early days of derby. The water was as hot as I could stand it and mixed with Epsom salt and eucalyptus. Hopefully, in that water, I’d reclaim my A-game. A lot was riding on Jake Barrett’s party. Half the music industry would be there. West Adler would be there. Audrey would be there. Never mind the hundreds of thousands of fans who’d potentially tune in online.

  Being sore and lethargic was not an option.

  After the bath, a Red Bull, and a double-dose of ibuprofen, I felt more like myself. I dressed in a new outfit, specifically purchased for the occasion: a slinky black shirt and dark skinny jeans that—holy crap!—were already tighter in my thighs.

  My doorbell rang at exactly six o’clock. Punctual, that man.

  I opened the door, and his cologne and pheromones flooded my apartment.

  The first thought in my head: He’s seen me naked. Very naked. Flashes from the night warmed the room’s temperature by a few degrees. I resisted the urge to fan my face.

  “Hi,” he said, all smiles and sex appeal.

  “Hi.” I stepped back. “Come in.”

  He crossed the door and stopped in front of me, gently holding my waist as he leaned down for a spearminty kiss. “I missed you today,” he said against my mouth.

  My lips were still tender. “I missed you too.”

  “How was your workout?” he asked as he followed me to the living room.

  “Exhausting. I came home and slept for three hours.”

  “I went back to bed after you left. Then I got up around one, played fetch with Cash for about ten minutes, and went back to bed till I texted you.” He leaned in my doorway as I went to grab my boots. “And I cleaned up the disaster in the kitchen, finally. I’m still sorry I ruined dinner.”

  I laughed and sat down on my bed to pull my boots on. “I’m not. You were otherwise occupied, and it was perfectly fine with me.”

  It was kind of dark in my room, but I was pretty sure he was blushing a tad.

  “I’m not going to lie. I think that was the best night of my life.”

  I stood and walked over to him. My boots brought me a little closer to his eye level. I slid my hands along the sides of his belt. “Mine too. Although, I have been walking a little funny all day.”

  He ducked his head. Yes, he was definitely blushing. He finally met my eyes again. “We have to go, or we won’t leave this room.”

  “Yes, we do. My boss will kill me if I’m late.” I started to move past him, but then I paused.

  “What is it?”

  “I do have a question before we go. It’s a little awkward to ask.”

  He cros
sed his arms. “I’m intrigued.”

  “How should I introduce you tonight?” I gulped, the noise detonating in my ears. “I mean, it’s only been a couple of weeks, but…”

  His mouth bent into a slow, unreadable smile. He leaned in, his cheek brushing mine. “Nothing about last night was casual, so I’m going to be pretty pissed if you say I’m just your friend.” Then he pulled back to look at me, grinning. “Especially to Trip Wiley.”

  Like a tightly compressed coil finally being released, I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Trip Wiley’s already taken.”

  “Lucky for me,” he teased.

  He seriously studied my face for a second. “No games, right?”

  “Right.”

  He offered me his hand. “Are you ready?”

  *

  A valet met us in the driveway when we pulled up in front of Jake’s house. He was holding a clipboard. “Name, please?”

  I leaned across the cab. “Lucy Cooper with Record Road Nashville.”

  He scanned the paper with his pen. “Welcome. May I take your key, sir?”

  West put his truck in park and slid out of the cab. “Take it easy on her,” he said and flashed a wink back at me. “She just got a new bumper.”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes.

  A second valet opened my door and offered me a hand down onto the driveway. Music floated over the house from around back by the pool. “The front door is open, ma’am. An attendant inside will check you through.”

  I blinked. Check us through? Was this the same house where I’d seen a bikini top in a day-old fruit-salad bowl just a few days before? “Thank you.”

  He gave a polite nod, and I joined West on the front step.

  “Fancy digs,” he said, checking out the front wall of the house. He was surely noting things like angles and lines, roof pitch and brick choice. “And no, before you ask, I didn’t build it.”

  The front door opened before we reached it, and a woman in a black fitted business suit greeted us. “Hi! Come on in!”

  I looked around in awe. Definitely not the same house. Parts of the house were blocked off with fancy velvet ropes, including the living room, the stairs leading up, and, of course, the master bedroom. And every speck of it was gleaming. Ava must have hired the cleaning company, and they must have had superpowers.

  “Can I get your name?” The perky woman had a pointed southern pang.

  “Lucy Cooper. Record Road Nashville.”

  She walked around behind a small black writing desk. “There you are. Would you care to check anything? A coat or your purse?”

  I pressed my purse to my side. “I’ll need it, but thank you.”

  “The party is just down the hall, out on the patio by the pool.” She walked with us part of the way. “They will be recording a live video that will go out to Mr. Barrett’s fan base at seven o’clock.”

  I’d only met Jake once, but it was still funny to hear him referred to as Mr. Barrett.

  “If you have any questions, my name is Lorainne. I’ll be here all night.”

  “Thank you for your help, Lorainne,” I said.

  “Enjoy the party!” she called after us.

  As we passed by the kitchen, West pointed out a wall blocking a hallway built from cases of craft beer. “This is going to be fun.”

  “There’s a full bar outside too, and a small concert stage,” I told him.

  He tugged on my hand to stop me. “Thanks for bringing me, Lucy.”

  “Hold your gratitude until later. My boss is here. And you know”—I widened my eyes—“every party has a pooper.”

  “We are going to have a great time,” he said and kissed my forehead.

  I’d been impressed my first visit to Jake’s house, but he had outdone himself for the party. Or whoever planned it had outdone themselves, at least. The pool was illuminated in hues of purple and blue as floating white lights twinkled on the surface of the water. New cushy and colorful furniture dotted the patio and surrounded the blazing fire pit which was stocked with what appeared to be a s’mores bar. Overhead, a canopy of globe string lights glimmered against the fading sunset and recorded country music twanged from the sound system. The stage was fenced with tiki lamps, their flames dancing against the darkness.

  Partygoers were scattered around the backyard oasis, some dancing, all drinking. I scanned their faces and saw a few that looked familiar, but none I could place.

  “Is that Reba McEntire?” West whispered in my ear.

  My eyes searched for red hair.

  “Over by the cake,” he added.

  The five-tier cake, decorated with flames and music notes, had its own table between the bar and a treble clef ice sculpture rising out of a beer trough big enough to water a herd of cattle. The woman in question? Not Reba McEntire. Most likely.

  “Lucy!”

  An arm waving from the bar caught my attention. It was Ava. I tugged on West’s hand. “Come on. You need to meet the other half of Record Road.”

  Ava could have just come from a New York runway in her sleek black slip dress that was split down the front halfway to her bellybutton. Her dark hair was pinned lazily on top of her head with gentle tendrils falling around her face. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. “It’s so good to see you, Lucy,” she said over the music.

  I squeezed her arm. “You look beautiful.”

  Ava did a slight curtsy. “Thank you.”

  “Ava, this is West Adler,” I said, turning to him.

  They shook hands. “It’s nice to finally put a face with your name, Mr. Adler. I’ve been hearing about you a lot lately.”

  My heart was squealing inside, but West gave my hip bone a reassuring squeeze. “That’s good to hear. Thanks for letting me come.”

  “Any friend of Lucy’s is always welcome with me. Have you met Jake yet?”

  He shook his head.

  “We haven’t even seen him,” I told her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Maybe he can’t find his way around the house now that it’s so clean.”

  I laughed and gestured around the patio. “I really can’t believe this is the same place we were at a few days ago.”

  “I know, right?” She scanned the crowd, pausing a couple of times to return the waves of partygoers. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

  I checked my watch. “We should find him and get ready to start shooting. We’re supposed to go live in twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, we should. He’s probably in the house.” She took a step toward the door.

  I hesitated, looking at my gorgeous date.

  “Go on,” he said. “When you come back, I’ll have us a couple of cold drinks ready.”

  I hated to leave him. “You sure?”

  He squeezed my hand. “Positive. I’ll either be by the bar or tearing up that s’mores station when you get back.”

  I leaned in and kissed his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. He was smiling when I pulled back. “I’ll hurry,” I said.

  “Break a leg!” he called as I walked back to the house with Ava.

  She looped her arm through mine. “Gee whiz, you weren’t kidding about that one. He’s impressive. What’s wrong with him?”

  I laughed. “I’ve been asking myself that same question for months.”

  *

  Ava knocked on the door to the master bedroom.

  “Come in!” Jake yelled from the other side.

  She twisted the knob and pushed the heavy carved wooden door open. Jake was standing in front of the full-length mirror, buttoning a black rhinestone shirt next to a leggy blonde in stiletto heels.

  Ava’s head tilted. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready.” He nodded to the blonde. “This is my stylist, Zusanna.”

  Zusanna’s lipstick was smudged, and her skirt was rumpled like it had recently been pushed up to her waist. She waved. I waved back. Ava did not.

  Ava walked over to his closet a
nd threw open the door. “You need to wear the gray shirt. The one from the album cover with the rolled sleeves.”

  He followed her and pulled her out of his closet. “I’m not wearing the gray shirt.”

  Ava put her hands on her hips. “You know better than I do now?”

  He tugged on the hem of his black shirt. “I like this one.”

  “The album is called The Gun Show,” she reminded him. “And since when do you miss an opportunity to showcase your biceps?”

  “Since the girl at Neiman Marcus said this shirt makes me look like a young Merle Haggard.”

  She flicked a rhinestone button. “Merle Haggard wouldn’t have been caught dead in this monstrosity. And honestly, I’m surprised you bought it. It looks like you stole it from a closet at Graceland.”

  Grinning, he leaned toward her. “They don’t call him The King for nothing.”

  “Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Are you ready to do this?”

  He flipped his collar up. “I was born ready, baby.”

  Scowling, she folded his collar back down. “Let’s not make it worse, Elvis.” She lowered her voice. “Can you please ask your stylist to wait for you at the party? We don’t do girlfriends in front of the fans, remember?”

  Jake grinned as Ava scraped a smudge of something shiny off his collar with her fingernail. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  She glared at him.

  “Zusanna,” he said, his voice smooth and seductive. “Would you mind waiting for me at the bar by the pool? My fans await.”

  Ava smirked so hard her head jerked back.

  “Yes, darling,” Zusanna cooed. She edged between Ava and Jake, pressing her body against his as she kissed him long and hard on the mouth.

  Some stylist.

  Then Zusanna turned on her heel and swished her hips so wide I watched to see if she’d smack into the doorframe on her way out. She didn’t, sadly.

  When she was gone, Ava’s face soured. “Really?”

  Jake snickered. “She’s hot.”

  “I’m going to tell your mother,” Ava said.

  He pointed at her face. “You’d better not.”

  She grabbed his finger.

  The click of my smartphone snapping into the grips on the tripod seemed to snap them both out of a private moment. Ava straightened and stepped back away from him. “Are we ready to work?”