The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  A little over a month ago, my siblings had gone up to Canada for a long weekend to get some boarding in and I’d stayed to hold down the fort. What was I going to do up there anyway? Chance fell on one of the runs—don’t bother asking me what he was doing, some sort of Nose-Cork-Triple-Twist-Grab-Thingy that I couldn’t begin to remember, let alone repeat—and he’d broken his knee. He’d been taken to a hospital up there where they put him in a brace so he was ok to travel home. When they made it back, Channing insisted that he go to a doctor in Denver to give him the best shot at a full recovery. It had been a shot in the dark. Which is what they must have told him. He was going to be there for a whole week to start and when she went to check on him—it was a Thursday—he was gone.

  I, however, remained blissfully unaware of his disappearance until I walked in the house that night to find Chan sitting and staring into space. Her monotone explanation meant she was just as confused and hurt as I was. I remember wondering what was really more shocking—that he left or that my heart could break further?

  But I didn’t cry. I shed a few tears as we hugged, but not like how I cried for Dylan. Maybe it was because I realized that tears wouldn’t bring either of them back.

  Something else broke inside of me that day. I think it was the last shred of hope I had that being good will always put you on top. I loved good guys and they were dropping from my life like flies.

  My sister looked unfazed as she drove us to the bar. Melancholic was a complex word for how simple and bare our lives had been since he left—mindless routine and joyless existence. At least the mountain had opened last week so Channing had an outlet—a straw to grasp at to pull her out of the darkness.

  I had nothing because I came here with nothing. And still, I managed to lose something.

  “What is Tammy coming as?” I looked up from where I’d been toying with my matching fishnet stockings as they peeked out from underneath my short, black swashbuckling skirt and above my knee-high black leather Barbary-pirate boots.

  “I think she said a bunny? And Jessa took a night off from studying so she’s coming as a dragon or something.”

  Tammy was great. Now that I thought about it, I did have something here. I had some joy. Between her and Jessa, I’d made two best friends in record time. Without our weekly—most times tri-weekly—girls’ nights, I didn’t know where I would be.

  “All I know is that I feel like I’m about to walk the plank going to this stupid thing.”

  “You didn’t have to come,” I grumbled.

  I’d ignored the fliers for several weeks even though I’d been the one Big Louie had asked to hang them. A few days ago, I was stopped short by a customer, spilling the glass of ice water I’d been carrying all over myself. It was wake-up cold. Dylan was gone. Chance was gone. Secluding myself wasn’t working, I decided. I needed to let loose and just not care about anything. Anyone. Anymore.

  “Yeah, ok.” Channing rolled her eyes. Alright, maybe I had pestered her obnoxiously into coming with me—guilting her really into this Halloween party.

  I chuckled in my seat. “Well you don’t have to sing…” A small consolation.

  She barked out a laugh. “Damn straight I don’t.”

  I also couldn’t resist a good karaoke night. Tammy and Jessa knew that best. My eyes widened at the completely filled lot of cars, spilling out along the road. Because Chan and I both worked there, we thankfully had a spot reserved for us in the back.

  Big Louie’s was a big place. Mostly attracting locals on game nights for the big screens and karaoke nights for the big entertainment, the Halloween party was the biggest night of the year. Killer Karaoke.

  Hearing my sister groan, I linked arms with her, my hand tightening on my Jack Sparrow-esque hat and we pushed into the over-the-occupancy-limit crowd.

  “Hey, Jimmy!” I greeted the lucky bartender on duty tonight. In real life, Jimmy was the quiet, nerdy type. His boyfriend, Todd, also worked here in the kitchen. His Cajun shrimp and grits was sex in a barbecued bowl.

  “Well shiver-me-timbers!” He laughed, inspecting our costumes.

  My boots, tights, and skirt were paired with a black corset, loosely laced at the top with a flowy red blouse underneath. Channing, on the other hand, went for the more boy-ish pirate—surprise surprise—with her fishnets covered down to the knee with black breeches and a loose, long-sleeve button down black shirt. The red sash around her waist was the only color to her outfit—if you didn’t count the red design in her bandana. Jimmy was dressed-up in white, black, and red, too and his ‘Where’s Waldo’ costume was on- freaking-point. “What can I get ye, Lady Captain Ryders?” His pirate impersonation somewhat lacking—but in the best way.

  “My usual, Jimmy,” Channing said as she glanced around, unsure who she was expecting to see through the mass of people.

  “How bout you, Black Jack Ally?” My eyes widened. Sometimes, they slipped me a drink after work, but I guess tonight there were no holds barred on the fact that I was four months shy of legal.

  “Ahh… one second, Waldo.” I grabbed the drink menu from the guy sitting next to me who looked like he’d already had enough.

  “Just get the Effin’ Good,” my sister suggested her favorite drink. “Is Tammy here yet?”

  “Chan, we’re pirates. I need something with RUM in it,” I retorted, scanning down the cocktail list. “I’ll text Tam in a sec.”

  Vodka.

  Vodka.

  Gin.

  Whiskey.

  Ah-ha! “Jimmy! I’ll take a Dark n’ Stormy, please.”

  “Aye-aye, Cap’n,” he returned, making me giggle.

  Chan and I had a drink while we were getting ready; she’d said it was the only way she could sit through having makeup put on her face.

  My response: ‘If Johnny Depp can do it, so can you.’

  “They’re here,” Chan yelled as she read the text. “She said in the back corner right by the stage.”

  “Perfect.” I grinned. They’d grabbed our usual spot right up front by the small stage. I tried to look around the bar to see them, but that was pointless.

  I granted Jimmy my biggest, brightest smile as he set down the amber drink in front of me and turned to quickly help another customer. I’d have to thank him again later for making this night a whole lot more promising with the liquid courage that he’d allowed me.

  We turned to find the rest of our crew, Channing leading the way through the crowd of cheerleaders, skeletons, Power Rangers, and one Michael Jackson impersonator—complete with a white sequined glove.

  “Hey there, gorgeous.” A solidly-built vampire—not the Dracula kind, more the Twilight kind—stepped out in front of me, halting my path. I was ok with the Edward Cullen variety. I tried to catch my sister, but she was determined to get to our friends.

  “Hi,” I said hesitantly.

  “Sorry,” his head shook as he spoke. He switched his drink to his other hand, sticking his free fingers out to shake mine. “I guess you don’t remember me.” He paused, but I said nothing because I didn’t; he looked vaguely familiar. “I was in last week with a few of my friends. You waited on us.”

  “Oh, right! Cheeseburger with pickles!” Smooth, Al. “Sorry.”

  “Also known as Tim.” He laughed.

  It was coming back to me now. He and his friends were up for their fall break to do some skiing.

  “Tim. Nice to meet you again,” I said, shaking his hand. He seemed nice enough even though he’d definitely eyed me up and down one too many times for my liking.

  And looked like I was going to add one more time to that tally…

  The way he continued to stare at me wasn’t gross really, but then again, it certainly wasn’t completely innocent either.

  I sighed and tried to smile. The ogling thing that he was currently doing had only happened a few times since I moved back, not like it had in Florida—but Florida was a much warmer climate. And after my first night in Hope’s Creek, I began to dress a
little more conservatively, telling myself it was because of the cooler weather and not because of what a certain cold asshole had said to me.

  Mr. Creepy Vampire started to say something else, but I couldn’t hear him; my whole body was on fire.

  Speak of the devil. Emmett was here.

  I hated how my body exploded into sizzling embers the second he was near. Over the past two months, I’d gotten used to it, deciding to view it as my own biological warning system; its purpose to prepare me for battle.

  Creepy Cullen… Tim… was still talking to me and I just nodded, taking another sip of my drink, pretending to listen while my eyes searched for my enemy.

  Emmett. Enemy.

  Tongue twister… and a soul twister, too.

  There were over a hundred people in the place, all disguised, and yet I would have found that asshole even if he didn’t have a bright-red beacon on his head. A small window in the crowd cleared in front of me, behind Creepy Cullen, revealing the devil-king, sitting on his iron throne in the back corner.

  I couldn’t look away. Dressed in all black, he lounged on the barstool like this was all his domain, the party-goers his subjects. He had on a plastic headband, attached to which were two little horns. Ten bucks said that someone else put the stupid thing on his head. I watched his hand swirl the red liquid in his glass before I realized that he was watching me stare, amused, and that dangerous smirk returned to his face.

  After that first night, I avoided Emmett like the plague. When we were forced to see each other it was fire fighting fire. He taunted me and I provoked him. World War 3 was going to be fought on the mountain, I was sure of it. I hated myself when I came to realize that the only time I didn’t feel the hurt in my chest or think about the pain of my past… my present… was when I was around him; my hate for him focused me and my traitorous desire for him consumed me.

  Most of all, I hated that smirk. That smirk told me that he knew exactly what he did to me—that he knew the ache and anger he created deep in my stomach. It was a smirk that knew that I was angrier at myself for wanting him, than I was angry at him for making me do it. I hated that he had that power.

  A hand that wasn’t his rubbed over his chest and a few people moved so that I could see Wonder Woman on his right, her hand slowly sliding further south to where I would lose sight of it soon as it disappeared underneath the table. I wanted to vomit. Another hand appeared on the side of his face, turning it—and his stormy stare—away from me. I couldn’t look away. It was like when those stupid pop-up ads with naked people on them come up on your computer and eventually crash it. Sex sells. And in that respect, Emmett Jameson must be as rich as Croesus.

  The second hand belonged to Cleopatra. Both women were more cleavage than costume, but this one was practically falling out of her golden tunic. He smiled and I hated knowing that that smile was meant for me. Just look away, Ally. But I couldn’t. It was like my own private show amidst a mass of masked bodies. My mouth dried into dust as his hand raised to trace along the edge of her costume, lingering in the space between her breasts. It was like I could feel those fingers on me—on my chest. His eyes came back to mine as he touched her; he was doing this on purpose—making me wish I was her.

  He shifted in his seat and that’s when I realized that the Wanton Wonder Woman’s hand was gone—disappeared below the table doing… touching…

  I could only imagine—and my stupid brain did—what would be happening if they weren’t in a public place.

  It didn’t matter where they were; women were always willing subjects to this King.

  “Ally?” Creepy Cullen’s hand touched my shoulder. Tim. You know his name—use it. “Are you alright?” he asked, looking somewhat concerned.

  “Yes, sorry! This drink is a lot stronger than I realized,” I said with a small flirtatious giggle, surprising myself with how much of it was gone. Dark n’ Stormy was now Drank n’ Drunk.

  That was what his presence did to me. It distracted me to the point of oblivion.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Creepy Cullen asked for what sounded like it was the second time.

  Crap. I stared blankly. I had no idea what he had been talking about. All I’d been focused on was Emmett—whose eyes were watching me again; I refused to look.

  “I’m sorry… do what?” I gave him my most brilliant smile and batted my eyelashes, hoping that made up for my inattention.

  “Sing.” I followed his nod over to the right to where they were starting the sign up for karaoke.

  “Oh, yes! Definitely yes.” My hand reached out to touch his arm as I laughed. I could practically feel Emmett’s rage as though I were reaching out and touching it. “I should go find my sister and friends.” And then without thinking—only feeling—I asked, “Do you want to come sit with us?”

  He nodded, his pointy fangs peeking out through his lips as he smiled. This dude definitely thought he was getting some tonight. And maybe he would. Maybe I was tired about caring about anything anymore—including myself.

  I took his arm triumphantly and marched him through the crowd, hoping that obnoxious asshole was enjoying his freaking handjob knowing there was nothing he could do to stop me from enjoying my very own vampire.

  “There you are! I was just about to come look for you!” Tammy exclaimed, drawing me into a hug. Of course, she was dressed as a bunny—like a real one, not a sexy playboy one. One more thing I loved about her. Just like my sister, she didn’t try to be someone that she wasn’t. Unlike me, who wanted to be anyone else.

  “Sorry! Ran into a friend.” I nodded over to my shoulder, introducing the vamp with a smile, “Guys this is… Tim.” Wow, close one. “I told him he could come sit with us.”

  Moving around the table I hugged Jessa who was dressed a little more provocatively as Daenarys Stormborn—my sister clearly knowing nothing about the Mother of Dragons. Now, if it had been the Mother of the Mountain, that would have been a different story. “Wow! Great costume. Is… is that a wig? I can’t even tell!” I marveled, touching one of the long, silvery-blonde locks.

  She laughed. “Well, considering my hair is normally pink…”

  “Shut up, you know what I meant.” I rolled my eyes. “Ok, I need to go sign up quick before all the spots are taken! Is anyone else singing?” I glanced around the shaking heads in the group. “No, I know you’re not, Chan.”

  “Too many witnesses,” was Tammy’s excuse.

  “Mother of Dragons… not Mother of Songs,” Jessa teased.

  I set my drink down on our table to go sign up when Tim caught my attention. “Do you want me to get you another one?”

  “Sure!” Why the hell not? Maybe if I was drunker I could stop thinking about what lascivious things were going on underneath a table on the other side of the room.

  With my sister and my girls, I felt better about having asked Tim over. He fell into conversation with all of us that dwindled relatively quickly as different singers began to perform, drawing everyone’s attention.

  Almost everyone.

  He was still watching me; I was Emmett’s show.

  The more I drank, the easier it was for me to glance over in his direction and not be upset about what I saw. At some point, Nick had joined him, along with a few other scantily-clad girls. Asshole.

  Finally, it was my turn to sing. I’d been one of the last to sign up, which meant I was one of the last to perform.

  I loved karaoke—even in Florida. Dylan knew it was one of my favorite things to do; it had been our official first date after an afternoon out on the waves. The girls and I sometimes sung together when it wasn’t too busy, but I wasn’t surprised they bailed on me tonight. Truthfully, I was a good singer and the past few performers were only going to make me look better; the later it got, the drunker they got, and the worse they sang.

  Not me though. I’d finished the second drink that Tim had brought me and I was feeling good.

  I wasn’t excited for Emmett to hear me sing. Nope. Not
in the slightest.

  My butterflies called me a liar. A sip of Jessa’s gin and tonic silenced them.

  When I’d signed up earlier, my mind blanked on what song to sing. Pop? Country? Or smooth and soulful?

  I was going to go with country—it was a safe bet out here.

  And then I passed over an option that caught my eye. One that I couldn’t turn down. One that sober-Ally would have realized was a mistake.

  ‘Almost Lover’ by A Fine Frenzy.

  Slow. Soulful. Heartbreaking. Everything that I felt about Dylan wrapped up in a song—in words I’d sworn I’d never speak about here because I didn’t want anyone to know about him.

  I took the stage and grabbed the mic, my eyes adjusting to the light that was pointed painfully at me. The cheers and hoots from the crowd disappeared as my ears picked up the notes of the intro.

  I looked over to my crew, smiling as I began to sing. The melody floated over me, pulling me up and down like a cell in the sea.

  Ever so slowly, my eyes drifted further back into the crowd, further back to him.

  ‘Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye, my hopeless dream.’ My voice quivered as Dylan’s shining smile flashed in my mind until it was blotted out by the darker scene in front of me. My eyes found Emmett—with Cleavage Cleo sitting on his lap. He had one arm wrapped around her waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her stomach. She was breathing so deeply, it looked like she was trying to have a wardrobe malfunction. His other hand was wrapped around his drink that sat on the table.

  “I’m trying not to think about you,” I continued singing, the forlorn lyrics coming out almost subconsciously.

  Who was ‘you’? I wasn’t sure anymore…

  A slow grin spread over his face. My breath caught as I watched him turn his mouth onto Cleo’s neck, her head immediately dropping to the side as he sucked on her skin. Yet, his eyes remained locked with mine.

  “Why can’t you just let me be?”

  Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

  Everyone’s eyes were on me and mine were on him. His mouth on her. That hand on her stomach sliding up to cup the weight of her breast.