by Box Set
“This is Violet’s first time in Guelph—”
“Which is exactly why you should stay here. You can cancel your reservations.” Daisy loops her arm through mine and steers me toward the kitchen. “I don’t get to see enough of my baby boy, and Violet has had you most of the weekend. I think she should be able to share you for one night. Grab your bags and bring them inside, sweetie.”
Panic-stricken, I look over my shoulder as Daisy leads me away. Alex’s brows are drawn, and his lips are mashed in a line. He looks about as happy about this situation as I do. Brunch with the ’rents is one thing, a goddamned sleepover is another.
“I’m so glad Alex was able to find some time to spend with us while he’s here. We see so little of him already these days with his schedule.”
I stand awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, unsure if I should sit or stand. “He’s on the road a lot.”
She picks up the biggest knife I’ve ever seen and slices the top off a pineapple. “Mmm. Relationships have always been a challenge for him because of it.”
I hope the next twenty-four hours aren’t going to be full of jabs at me. I don’t think I can handle it without saying something I’ll regret.
Daisy immediately gives me a task; thankfully, it’s not a difficult one because I can’t cook for shit. While I cut the tops off strawberries, Daisy makes mimosas. Booze is exactly what I need to beat back the anxiety and the gross lingering taste of hairspray.
She hands me a glass as Alex and his dad saunter into the kitchen. Robbie is wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a Grateful Dead T-shirt.
“Robbie! You’re supposed to get dressed! We have company.” Daisy puts her hands on her hips. “Are you doing research again?”
I look from Alex, who’s smiling, to his father—also smiling, and back to his mother, who is not smiling. I take a closer look at Robbie. The whites of his eyes are shockingly red. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s high as a flipping kite.
“I’m testing a new batch of medical this week. It’s supposed to increase appetite by fifty percent.”
I guess my hypothesis is accurate. He slides his hand under his shirt, rubbing his stomach lazily. He’s got some abs under there. I look away. I don’t want to ogle Alex’s father.
“How are you, Violet?” He grabs a handful of hulled strawberries and takes a seat.
“I’m great. You?”
“Mellow would be the scientific term.”
I’ve only “met the parents” a couple of times in my dating history. None of those experiences were as bizarre as this one is turning out to be.
As Alex and his dad chat about medical grade Mary Jane, I continue to chop fruit. Most of it ends up in Robbie’s mouth rather than on the platter. I’d say if the point is to increase appetite, it’s working well.
Until now I’ve been so focused on being polite I’ve failed to take in the decor of the house. It looks like a bohemian gypsy got into a fight with a southern belle, and they exploded all over the place. Everything is either überfrilly or a throwback to the seventies. It’s hard to process it all. I wonder how a laid-back man like Robbie can handle so much visual over-stimulation. Maybe he likes tripping out to it.
As I sip my mimosa and ponder this, Alex’s sister comes into the room. I nearly choke as Buck comes in behind her. Shit is about to go down, rumble style.
Alex has his back to them. I do the most logical thing in the world. I grab his hand, pulling him toward me. My intention is to molest him. However, this plan has holes—the most important being the presence of his parents. So I stand there, staring up at him as I stroke his thumb with my fingers. Alex gives me a funny look.
“Alex! You’re here!” Sunny’s voice distracts him from my distraction.
He turns around. I assume he’s not very happy based on the way he squeezes my hand since I can no longer see his face.
“What the hell?” He scares his mother half to death—and me, too with his thunderous shouting.
“Alex! Use your inside voice,” Daisy says.
“Alex,” I say gently as his grip on my hand tightens. If he keeps going he’s going to break it. I need my hand, not just for my job but for other important tasks, such as jilling off.
Unfortunately his focus is not on the hand he’s crushing, It’s on Buck standing beside his sister and smiling his ass off. At least he’s not touching her.
“Hey, man. How’s it goin’?” Buck asks like it’s no big deal he’s here.
I pull on Alex’s sleeve with my free hand.
“What are you doing here?” he asks calmly.
I’m losing the feeling in my fingers. I lean in and bite Alex’s arm.
“Ow!”
It works. He lets go of my hand.
His head swings around. Oh man, is he ever pissed. As badass as he is on the ice, and as dominating and frisky as he can be in bed, he doesn’t intimidate me. Plus, his family is here, and so is Buck, so I’ll be fine.
He rubs his arm. “Why’d you bite me?”
“You were crushing my hand and words weren’t working.”
He inspects my hand with his lips. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.
“Alex, watch your language.”
“Sorry, Mom.” Alex then glares at his sister and motions to Buck. “Care to explain this?”
Sunny looks Buck up and down. “Explain what?”
“Why are you being so rude?” Daisy asks. No one pays any attention to her.
Sunny flips her hair over her shoulder. She’s wearing a rainbow colored tie-dyed shirt and a flowy, ankle-length skirt. She’s not Buck’s type at all. He goes for the skanky, nearly naked sure-things. Yet here he is with Sunny, who seems like neither.
Alex abandons questioning his sister—she does seem genuinely confused—and moves onto Buck. “Who invited you?”
“I invited him,” Sunny replies.
“Why?” Alex’s fists clench at his sides.
“Um, because I like him?” Her body language tells me things her words don’t. She wraps a tendril of hair around her finger, and her eyes drop to her feet. Buck has snared her with his yeti magic.
“You like him?” Alex’s voice rises with his eyebrows. “He’s a dirtbag!”
Part of me wants to defend Buck; he’s a nice guy under all the whoriness. But if Sunny was my sister, I would castrate Buck before he could get his dick into her. Sadly, with the way Sunny gazes at Buck and Buck smiles back at her, it appears this may have already happened. Alex could be too late to save his sister. I should offer to take her to the walk-in clinic later today.
Sunny props her fist on her hip. “Look who’s calling the kettle a pot!”
She and Buck may be on a level playing field intellectually with the way she completely butchered that saying.
Apparently Daisy gets what Sunny is trying to say. She defends Alex’s nonexistent virtue. “Don’t you say things like that about your brother!”
Either she’s truly in complete denial or she’s too blinded by her maternal love to see the truth. Alex may not be a player, but he can be a dirty, dirty boy.
I look around the room; the various expressions are hilarious. Sunny is enraged, Daisy looks like she might cry, Buck is staring at Sunny’s chest—so he has no idea what’s happening—and Robbie has pulled the fruit tray closer. He’s shoveling food into his mouth and peeking up on occasion to check if anyone notices. I like him.
Sunny props a fist on her hip. “I saw the paper this morning. Did you?”
“What paper?” Alex asks.
“The tabloids. There’s a whole article on what happened in the locker room yesterday.”
“Wait, what?” Buck is suddenly alert. As are Alex and I.
“It’s not like I’d actually believe any of the stuff in there. Even if it’s mostly made up, it sure doesn’t make any of you look good.”
“What kind of tabloids do you read?” Buck is wearing his constipated expression.
It’s clear he’s afrai
d Sunny has read about his sexual exploits in the tabloids. He’s too involved with figuring out what Sunny might know about him; he forgets about the argument brewing with Alex and settles into hushed conversation with her.
Alex and I look at each other, clearly wanting to know the same thing—what did Sunny see in the tabloids and how much should I worry.
I have no idea what’s happening between Buck and Sunny, but I have to admit, even though the two of them seem as deep as a puddle, they get along well. Buck is actually being polite.
Brunch is awkward, in part due to our inability to get the information we need. Robbie leads the conversation. He’s incredibly articulate for a man under the influence of pot. Alex mentions taking me to the Guelph campus later, and Robbie goes off on a tangent about the Women in Lit classes he took during his undergrad.
He pats Daisy’s hand. “That’s where I met my Daisy. She was the smartest, most beautiful woman in the room, so of course I had to ask her out.”
“That’s not true. I failed the course, and you asked me out because none of the other women in the class were interested in you,” Daisy replies.
“And you were the most beautiful woman in the room.” He kisses her cheek without getting a mouthful of hard hair. It’s amazing.
“How about the two of you? How did you meet?” Daisy directs the question at me.
“We met after a hockey game.”
“Oh?”
“I went with my family to see Buck play.”
She smiles the same calculating smile she wore when Alex and I first arrived. “That’s so nice. Sunny comes to games if she can, but she’s in school right now and her studies are important to her. What about you? What is it you do?”
“I’m an accountant.”
“Really? But you’re so young.” Daisy folds her hands under her chin. The evil glint in her eyes makes me nervous.
“I graduated with my bachelor’s in accounting and finance last spring, so I’ve been working at my firm for less than a year.”
“What kind of accounting do you do?”
“Vi manages my bank accounts.” Bucks spears a sausage patty and crams it into his mouth.
“So you manage sports figures’ accounts?”
“Mostly. I’m a junior accountant, so I only manage smaller accounts, apart from Buck’s.”
She tilts her helmet head to the side, her inquisitiveness intimidating. “You must be very familiar with what these boys make during their career.”
“Mom.” I can hear the tension in Alex’s voice.
“What? I’m just interested in getting to know Violet. It’s been a long time since you’ve brought a girl home to meet us.” Daisy gives him an angelic smile and then turns her attention back to me. “It sounds like a very interesting job. It must be a lot of responsibility.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Oh, it is. I love working with numbers and figures.”
Daisy doesn’t ask any more questions about my job. Her blatant dislike makes me so nervous I can barely eat. I force food down so as not to offend her further. Alex doesn’t say much apart from directing the occasional barb at Sunny and Buck. Neither pick up on them; they’re likely too busy playing footsies under the table.
After brunch, Alex takes our bags upstairs and gives me a tour of the rest of the house.
“I’m really sorry about this,” he says once we’re away from his family. “I only planned for a meal. I thought if we did brunch we could get out of dinner.”
“Your family wants time with you. It’s understandable.” I still wish we were staying at a hotel where I don’t have to worry about behaving myself after dark.
We make our way up a narrow flight of stairs to the third floor. It’s an awesome room if you’re an eighteen-year-old boy. It looks like nothing has changed since Alex moved out. The ceilings are high and angled, and large windows frame either end of the wide space. Hockey paraphernalia hangs everywhere, and posters from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition have the prime spot above his bed.
Alex drops our bags on the floor beside his double bed and pulls out his laptop.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking for the article Sunny was talking about.” He clicks furiously for a few seconds. His brow furrows as he scans the screen.
I sit down and read with him. Very little of the article has to do with the fight, the mystery of the locker room is much more interesting. There’s nothing concrete in the article. It’s speculation apart from a few grainy photos of Alex smuggling me out of the arena’s emergency exit and a few more of him ushering me onto the bus. My face isn’t visible.
He heaves a sigh of relief and squeezes the back of my neck. “No one will recognize you.”
“That’s good. What about Buck and Sunny? Do you think there will be pictures of them, too?”
Loads of pictures flood the screen when he puts their names into the search bar together. “Shit. This isn’t good. Buck better watch himself.”
They’re all pretty harmless as far as I can tell. Nothing like the ones of Alex and me mouth fucking.
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think Buck has ever done the whole ‘brunch with parents’ thing.”
“He’s probably doing it to get back at me.”
”Maybe they genuinely like each other.”
“If he does anything to hurt Sunny, I’m going to kick his ass.”
“Totally reasonable. I’ll even help.” I really hope it isn’t something I’ll have to follow through on. I change the topic, not wanting this to ruin the rest of our day. Honestly, I would feel the same way if I were Alex.
“Why don’t we go out? You said you were going to show me around Guelph. I’d love to see where the Hobbits live.”
Alex takes me to The University of Guelph, where there are no Hobbits. Spread over the expanse of a square mile, the campus is a stunning fusion of old architecture and modern design. He even takes me to the hockey rink where he was scouted for the NHL. I try to imagine what it would’ve been like to be offered millions of dollars a year to play a game with blades on my feet barely out of high school.
Every time Alex runs into someone he knows—which is often—he introduces me as his girlfriend. It’s sweet. No one takes photos or asks for his autograph. They treat him like a normal person. It’s a refreshing change from the scene after the games. Especially considering the whole locker room debacle.
“I’d like to take you out to meet some of my friends tonight, if that’s okay,” Alex says once we’re back in the car.
“Sure, that sounds great.” This is big. Family is huge, but friends are the ones you end up hanging out with.
We head back to his parents’ to freshen up after our little adventure. Alex won’t tell me anything about our plans. All I know is that I should dress casually and we’re having dinner with whoever we’re meeting up with. He’s being too vague. These are the kinds of surprises I don’t like.
I have an idea. I’m not above using methods of half-naked persuasion to get the intel I need. Excusing myself to the bathroom, I strip down to my undershirt and underwear.
Alex is sitting in a pint-sized computer chair with his back to me, talking on his Bluetooth when I come out. I’m definitely going to make fun of him later.
“Publicity spots? The timing’s pretty inconvenient.” He taps restlessly on the desk. “Yeah. I know. You didn’t hear the shit he was spewing—Fine. I get it. I’ll keep my temper in check.”
Alex cracks his neck. Clearly he’s unhappy with whoever he’s speaking with.
“It’s all conjecture. There aren’t any pictures from last night. It was only the two of us—” He swivels in his chair. “Hearing and seeing aren’t the same. Just email the questions and tell me what you want me to say.” He pauses. “Why would I need to tell you about her? It’s pretty self-evident, isn’t it? What? Why would I do that?” Alex clicks the mouse in his left hand, opening an email attachment. I recognize the picture from the other night
. The one of Alex and me where my face is obscured. “So what? How would that impact either endorsement?” Another long pause ensues. “What’s a couple of weeks matter?”
They’re talking about me in relation to endorsements. It makes me uneasy, especially with how agitated Alex has become.
“That’s not fair. You should’ve said something long before now if this was going to be an issue. It’s not like I tried to keep it a secret. Motherf—No. Yeah. I get it.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I know it’s good exposure, but—yeah. The money isn’t the issue . . . Well, what the fuck am I supposed to tell—”
I take a step backward, rethinking my plan. The floor creaks under my foot, and Alex swivels in his chair.
“I don’t like—” His jaw drops. “I gotta go. I’ll call you on Monday.”
He takes off the headset and drops it on his desk. He misses, so it lands on the floor.
“Who was that?” I finger the hem of my tank.
“My agent, Dick.” His eyes drop from my chest to my waist.
“Are you in trouble for the other night?”
Alex shrugs. “He’ll get over it.”
I’m not sure I should buy his nonchalance. “You sounded pretty upset.”
“Just annoyed. I have an interview spot as soon as I get back to Chicago.”
“For the fight or the locker room?”
“Both. But you don’t need to worry about that.” He grips the armrests and swivels in his chair. “These are my new favorite panties, by the way.”
“I believe these are technically called underpants.” I trace the outline of The Hulk. His cartoon body is strategically placed so it looks like he’s punching his way out of my cooter.
“I don’t give a shit what you call them; they’re perversely fantastic on you.” He twirls his finger, signaling for me to turn around.
I comply and am rewarded with a heavy exhalation of breath and muttered profanity. I turn to face him again and saunter his way.
When I’m close enough, he slides his palms up my legs and wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs. He’s still staring at the underpants.
“I love the flap.” I finger the opening. “It’s very convenient.”