Sack: Eligible Receivers

by Sarah Curtis

  “They weren’t there.”

  “Have you checked your bag?”

  “Yes. It’s empty.”

  That Ivy could believe. “Well, they’ve got to be around somewhere.” Ivy went to Tina’s bed and started moving stuff around. “Are these them?” she asked, holding up two long scraps of cream linen.

  “Oh, my God, yes.” She tossed the boots and belt on the floor and held out her arms. “Will you help me tie them on?”

  Ivy pushed up the oversized sleeves of her Leia New Hope costume, but they kept falling to cover the tops of her hands. Giving up, she gave the sleeves a few rolls to keep them out of her way as she twisted the linen strips up Tina’s forearms.

  “You should totally be wearing Leia’s bikini slave outfit. You look hot in that.”

  “I’m saving it for the costume party.” One arm done and tied, she started on the other.

  “Maybe you’ll find yourself a hot Han to hook up with like you did two years ago.”

  “I did not hook up with that guy.”

  “Oh, so that was some other Princess Leia who was making out with him in the X-wing simulator?”

  Ivy stopped wrapping to look at her friend. “No, that was me, but we didn’t have sex.”

  “Pity. He was really cute.”

  Ivy went back to work, tying the material to hold it in place. “Besides, I’m not looking for anyone. I’m already having sex with someone, remember?”

  “Yeah, but fuck buddies isn’t a commitment. There’s no rule that says you can’t have a little fun while you’re here.”

  Done, Ivy dropped Tina’s arm. “Actually, it’s rule number one.”

  “What?”

  Ivy nodded. “We’re exclusive fuck buddies.”

  “Is that even a thing?”

  Ivy shrugged. “I’ve never had one before to know, but apparently for Colt it is.”

  “Wait a minute. You said rule number one. How many rules are there?”

  Ivy thought for a second. “Currently, four.”

  “Currently?” Tina asked, raising her brows.

  Ivy nodded. “Rule number three states that we can add rules at any time, so the number may change.”

  Tina’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re just fuck buddies? Because it sounds to me like it’s more than that. And how many times has he texted you already since you’ve been here? I know of once last night and once this morning and you’ve only been here fourteen hours. That’s more times than my ex would text me in a week when we were together.”

  Ivy waved that away, her sleeve flapping dramatically. “Colt is just a worrywart. He likes to know I’m safe.”

  “Exactly my point. Why?”

  Ivy laughed. “Because he cares.”

  Tina pointed her finger. “My point again. He cares about you.”

  Ivy crossed her arms. “Tina—”

  “Rey,” she corrected.

  Ivy rolled her eyes. “I’m not calling you Rey. Get over it.” Tina huffed and Ivy continued, “Colt and I are friends. Of course, he cares about my well-being. But it’s nothing more than that.”

  Tina crossed her arms and vigorously shook her head. “Guys aren’t like women. For them, it’s out of sight, out of mind.” She moved a step forward and took hold of Ivy’s arm. “Unless they really care.” She squeezed for emphasis.

  Ivy shook her head. “Colt’s different.”

  “This is a man who, according to every news article we read last night, has never been in a long-term relationship.” She squeezed Ivy’s arm again. “He’s only different with you.”

  “Are you guys ready to go? I don’t want to be late for the Psych panel.” Jessica walked into the room, looking sexy as hell in her skin-tight, white Amidala jumpsuit complete with a blaster pistol.

  Ivy stepped back from Tina and patted the cinnamon-roll-sized buns at the sides of her head. “I’m ready.”

  Jessica looked inquisitively between the two of them. “Is everything okay? Did I interrupt something?”

  “Everything’s fine.” Ivy grabbed her cell and room key and slipped them into the pocket concealed in the skirt of her costume. “Let’s go. We don’t want to miss James and Dulé!” She headed for the door, more than happy to put an end to that conversation.

  Now if she could just get it out of her head.

  Chapter Eleven

  Colt

  Fresh from the shower, Colt sat on the bench in front of his locker staring at his phone. No missed calls or texts. Ivy’s MO for the past two days. He was happy she was having a good time with her friends, but he… missed her.

  There, he’d admitted it.

  Sure, he wouldn’t have had much time this week to see her anyway, but he missed the nightly phone calls. And hell, it just felt different knowing she was so far away and out of reach.

  A body slid onto the bench beside him—Linc’s.

  “Got any plans this weekend?”

  “Nope.”

  Linc eyed the phone Colt still clutched. “No plans with your hottie photog?”

  “Nope.”

  “You two break up?”

  “We’re not together.”

  “Fine. You two call it quits?”

  Colt internally sighed. Linc was worse than a woman. “She’s out of town for the weekend.”

  “Perfect. McEwin is having a party tonight. What do you say?”

  “No.”

  “Aw, come on.” Linc bumped him with his shoulder. “I can use a wingman.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “About what?” Oz joined the conversation.

  “Trying to convince the C-man here to come to the party with us tonight.”

  After using his fingers to comb back his wet hair, Oz pulled a pair of jeans out of his locker and stepped into them before yanking off his towel. “Yeah, man, come. It’ll be fun. We’re eating at The Parting Glass before. You don’t want to miss out on their Friday night special.”

  Colt looked down at the black screen of his phone. Did he want to sit home obsessing about Ivy all night?

  Sensing he was weakening, Linc dealt the death blow. “You really gonna mope around your house all night like some lovesick fool while your girl’s out having a good time?”

  Colt took a moment to think about that then finally decided. “Fine. But I’m taking my own car.” The last thing he wanted was to get stuck there.

  He’d known it would be a bad idea to come. Colt stood against the wall, a beer dangling from his fingers for show so people would stop offering him one, sleepy after a carb-heavy meal, and bored out of his fucking mind. The music was loud, the hoots and hollers from the men louder, and the women’s laughter—most of it fake—loudest of all.

  He should leave.

  But what would he do at home other than veg in front of the TV? Ivy was out having a good time. He should at least try to, too.

  Kicking away from the wall, he made his way to the backyard. Shouts and the sound of a ball smacking pavement caught his attention, and he went around the side of the house to find a pick-up basketball game in progress. He stopped on the sidelines, watching.

  “Hey, man, you wanna join? I could use an extra man on my team.”

  Some of the men he didn’t know, but a few he recognized as pro basketball players. That should be interesting. While he could throw a ball with incredible accuracy, he couldn’t move the ball while dribbling for shit.

  “Sure.” He set his beer on the ground. “Though after you see me play, you may want to send me to the other team as your secret weapon.”

  The guy laughed, throwing him the ball, which Colt did manage to catch with ease. “I’ve seen you in action on a football field. I’ll take my chances.” The guy held out his hand. “Name’s Darius. Good to meet you, Colton.”

  Colt shook it. “Same and call me Colt.”

  Darius turned and yelled to the crowd, “Got me some more firepower. Gonna even the playing field. This is Colt if you didn’t already know.”

&
nbsp; Colt received a round of hellos, heys, and yos.

  He held up a hand in greeting. “Not sure if I’m evening the field, but I’ll give it my best shot. No pun intended.”

  Everyone chuckled.

  With Colt joining and making the teams even, they each had six players. He took a minute to memorize his teammate’s faces not wanting to pass the ball to an opposing player. Names were a little harder to remember, but after an hour of playing he had them all down.

  “He shoots and scores!” Darius held up a hand for a high-five.

  Colt promptly slapped it. He was sweaty, winded, and having a fucking blast.

  “What’s the score?” Darius put a hand to his ear. “Ninety-eight to Eighty-four?” he gloated. “By my calculations, we just need to score one more basket to win.”

  “Way to add, Einstein,” someone from the opposing team ribbed.

  “Haters gonna hate,” Marcos from Colt’s team yelled back.

  “Okay, let’s do it, team,” Darius encouraged, dribbling the ball and moving around the court.

  Colt moved around, too, trying to break free of the guy who blocked him.

  “Do not let Colt get the ball,” he heard someone yell. “He might not be able to dribble worth a damn, but he’s a hell of a shot.”

  That just egged him on to move faster.

  Someone from his team got into position to try for a basket. He watched the ball arc up and swoosh through the net, not even touching the rim. Cheers and shouts exploded from him and his teammates followed by back slaps and high-fives.

  Colt went to the sidelines, picked up his beer, and downed the lukewarm brew.

  “Hey, man, anytime you want to play, you’re welcome,” Darius said, walking up to him.

  “Thanks.” Colt used the hem of his shirt to mop his face. “I’d like that.”

  “Give me your digits and I’ll give you a call next time we hook up.”

  Colt rattled off his number, waved goodbye to the other guys, and headed off for the house. He needed a bottle of water. And maybe a bathroom. He probably stank to high heaven.

  “Whoa, what did you do? Go swimming?” Linc intercepted him on the way to the kitchen, eyeing his wet hair.

  Colt chuckled. “Basketball. You missed a fun game.” He opened the ice chest sitting on the kitchen table and unearthed a water from among the bottles of beer.

  “I need you to do me a solid.”

  Conversations with Linc never went well when they started with those words. Colt twisted the top off the bottle and chugged.

  “See that hunny in the corner? The blonde standing with the brunette.”

  Colt looked in the direction Linc pointed and found the women he referred to. The blonde towered over the brunette in red heels that matched the red dress plastered to her like a second skin. “What about her?” Colt asked in a voice laced with suspicion.

  “She’s interested but doesn’t want to leave her friend hanging.”

  Colt started to shake his head and Linc talked over anything he was planning to say. “I just need you to keep her company for an hour. Two tops.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, man, please.”

  “Ask Oz.”

  “The dickwad already bailed.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “Hell if I know. Probably back to that Irish place. Seems to be where he’s been spending all his free time lately.”

  Colt craned his neck to look over the crowd. “What about Garret?” He jutted his chin. “Doesn’t look like he’s doing anything.”

  “I can’t ask him. You’re my bro.”

  Colt hated when Linc played the friend card. He hated saying no when Linc asked for a favor with how many times he’d come through for Colt’s Kids. “Fine. But if you’re gone longer than an hour, I’m bailing, too.” He wanted to stay at least that long anyway after downing that beer.

  “Deal. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  The blonde’s name was Samantha.

  “But everyone calls me Sam,” she giggled, latching on to Linc’s arm.

  Her friend was Isabel. She was pretty in an overly made-up kind of way that gave off the vibe she was trying too hard. Nothing like Ivy’s natural beauty. “You kids have fun. We’ll be fine,” Isabel said, shooing Sam and Linc with a wave of her hand.

  Sam was quick to pull Linc away, but Colt didn’t see him protest and soon they were swallowed by the group of dancers in the middle of the room.

  “You want to dance?”

  Colt turned his attention back to Isabel. “I don’t dance.”

  A few beats of silence passed before she tried again. “How about a drink?”

  Colt knew he had to do something to keep her entertained for the hour he was left to babysit, so he shrugged. “Sure.”

  He led the way to the kitchen assuming she’d follow. Back at the cooler, he dug through it and asked, “Beer or hard lemonade?”

  “Lemonade.”

  He handed her a can and pulled another water out for himself.

  “You don’t drink?”

  “Not when I’m driving.” He planted himself on one of the kitchen chairs.

  Isabel followed suit. “Well, that’s commendable.” She batted her lashes which had Colt suppressing a groan.

  “So, Colt,” she took a sip of her drink then set the can on the table, “tell me all about yourself.”

  Colt wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he spent the whole hour talking about Ivy. Isabel, he noted, spent that time yawning into her hand.

  “Oh, thank God,” she said, perking up.

  “Pardon?”

  She threw him an apologetic look. “I mean, oh, look, there’s Sam and Linc.”

  Colt turned to where she pointed, and sure enough, he saw Linc pulling a disheveled Sam through the crowd. They both stood and met them halfway.

  “I’m out of here.” Colt held out a hand and Linc slapped it.

  “Thanks, bro.”

  “Aw, stay. The party’s just getting started.” Sam glanced at her friend when she made a discreet, hand-cutting motion across her neck. Wide-eyed, she looked back at Colt and said, “Er…”

  Colt tried not to chuckle. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to head out. Have a nice night.” Then he turned to Isabel. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Yeah, same.”

  Colt mentally filled in the “not” for her.

  The drive didn’t take long, and Colt arrived home by eleven. Still early for a Friday, but tired after a long week of practice, all he did was take a shower before getting into bed.

  He texted Ivy. Not expecting a response, he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get one.

  But that didn’t stop him from staring at his screen, waiting.

  Ivy

  Standing arm-in-arm with her friends, Ivy admired them all in the mirror and decided if one of them didn’t win the costume contest that year, she would protest. Everyone looked that fabulous.

  Jessica was the most beautiful in Queen Amidala’s billowy, pastel-colored villa dress and she’d even managed to style her hair perfectly. Chrystal was the most unrecognizable in an elaborate blue and white headpiece that covered her blonde hair and with her face painted a burnt-orange accented with an intricate white design. Tina just looked badass dressed in another warrior outfit—this time gray—complete with a long, wooden staff. But she—in her opinion—looked the sexiest. Her bikini top smooshed her boobs, creating an almost indecent amount of cleavage and left her midriff bare. And the silky skirt had two side slits clear up to her hips. The choker collar around her neck with its attached chain had Ivy looking straight from the movie.

  “Well, girls,” Crystal eyed each one of them in the mirror. “Are we ready to go flaunt our awesomeness?”

  Everyone agreed, and the giggling quartet made their way down to the convention hall.

  First up on the schedule was a meet and greet complete with refreshments. Next would come photo opts and autograph signings. Then last, t
he costume contest with the chance to win a one-on-one class the next day with an industry makeup artist and one-thousand dollars’ worth of makeup and prosthetics. A prize that would be awesome to win. Though looking around the hall, she found her chances of that happening dwindling as she spied some fantastic outfits. And she might look sexy as hell, but there were at least ten other women that she saw in her same outfit, who looked just as fabulous.

  “Hey, can we get a photo with you?” a man dressed as Han Solo asked. A Luke Skywalker look-alike stood at his side.

  “Sure.” Ivy smiled.

  They stood on either side of her, both draping an arm around her shoulders. Their friend, dressed as Lando, snapped their picture.

  “Oh, wait.” Ivy fished her phone from the small of her back and opened her camera. “Can you take a photo with my phone, too?”

  “Sure.” The guy took her phone and held it up. “Say Wookie.”

  They all laughed, and he snapped the picture.

  “Thanks.” Ivy took her phone back.

  “So, what are you doing after the contest?” Lando flashed a nice smile.

  “There’s a sneak-peek screening at nine that my girlfriends and I are excited about, but we’re not sure if we’ll be able to get in. It’s first-come, first-serve and as you can see, the turnout this year is massive.”

  “We’ll be at the Fantom Studio exhibit. Maybe catch up with us if you don’t make it in.”

  Ivy thought back to her last Starfighter rendezvous and felt her cheeks flame. “I’ll let my girlfriends know. Thanks.”

  “Name’s Chris by the way.” He held out his hand.

  “Ivy.” She gave his hand a curt shake then quickly extracted her hand from his.

  “Are you here until Sunday?”

  Ivy scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar face of one of her friends. While Chris seemed nice, she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea by chatting for too long.

  “Yep,” she said distractedly. “Don’t want to miss the guys from Supernatural.” Thankfully, she spotted Crystal. Or she thought it was. Really, one headdressed-orange-face person looked just like another. “Oh, I see my friend. I better catch her while I can. It was nice meeting you” she threw over her shoulder as she darted around him and hurried away.