by Jordan Ford
I’m not sure why.
Jules with her baggy shirts and shy demeanor is so not my style. I never have to work to get girls to notice me, so why do I care about this one when I’ve got a giggly brunette flirting right in front of me?
Jules trots down the stairs and doesn’t look my way once. It’s like she’s made a decision not to acknowledge me.
I don’t know what her problem is, but she tends to stick with one-syllable words and the shortest answers possible whenever I talk to her.
I finally turn away, reminding myself that I shouldn’t waste my time being interested. I want flirty and fun, not uptight and closed-off. I don’t even know why I find her so intriguing. Maybe it’s the challenge that’s holding my interest.
“Awesome work on the triple deke, Karl!” Keith gives me a double thumbs-up. I raise my eyebrows in thanks and skate to the gate.
It still feels weird being called Karl. I miss my name… I miss my brothers. They’d love this.
Who knew social hockey could be so damn fun, and competitive.
It’s only my second game since joining the team and I’m already proving to be a smash hit. I’m not going to complain about it, although it’s not the same without Riley and Trey. I’ll have to call them tonight and tell them what a legend I am.
I smirk, already seeing Riley’s eyes roll and hearing Trey’s scoffing laughter.
I wish they were here.
Clenching my jaw, I try not to let it bug me as I take a seat in the locker room and start unlacing my skates. I’m still getting slaps on the back and shoulders. I won the game this afternoon and I’m going to get richly rewarded with compliments…and a dinner from Jules.
Keith’s right about her cooking.
I’ve been having lunch and dinner at Skate Home every day I work. The head chef is always late and I know for a fact that Jules does most of the grunt work. Whatever the heck she adds to the beef patty mixture is amazing.
My stomach growls loud enough for Scott to notice. I snicker to hide my embarrassment. “Looking forward to dinner tonight, man.”
“You’ve earned it.”
He heads to the showers. I finish taking off my gear, then race through a quick shower. Keith will want me to check that the locker room is tidy before I leave for the night, and I’ll need to run the Zamboni over the ice as well. But I want to eat first.
It takes me less than five minutes to dress. I lock my bag away and head into Skate Home via the back entrance. Jules is in the kitchen, her face red as she deals with multiple frying patties and orders being shouted at her by Cassidy. They’re coming in fast tonight.
“Got it,” Jules calls, sounding calm in spite of the mounting pressure around her.
I change my mind about trying to catch her attention. She’s busy enough as it is…and I’m not interested.
I wonder how many times I’ll have to say that before it’s actually true.
Entering the main bar with a small frown, I go for my usual booth, but it’s taken.
“Sorry, we’re overflowing tonight.” Cassidy nods towards the bar. “You’ll have to settle for a stool.”
“No problem.” I pat her arm. “Give me a shout if you need a hand with anything.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs, bustling away to take another order.
The place is packed. Country music is pumping through the speakers, but it’s drowned out by the hundreds of conversations happening around me. Laughter is mingled into most of them along with munching, slurping, and a burp to my right.
I slide onto the barstool next to a big guy who smells like cigarettes and leather. His long ponytail is gray and scraggly at the end. He keeps his back to me as he carries on a conversation with a hairless wonder who’s watching ESPN and barely listening to him.
A cold beer is placed in front of me. “On the house.” Keith winks. “Good playing tonight.”
“Thank you.” I grin, feeling pretty damn triumphant as I take a sip of the cold brew. I still can’t believe no one’s asked for ID. I must look older than I think. Maybe it’s the long dark hair.
Swiveling in my seat, I take in the bar and my smile flatlines.
Shit.
A blonde bombshell with a thin waist, curvy hips and a determined look in her eye is strutting toward me. I hide my grimace behind a tight smile. I can’t exactly bolt from the bar, and it’s not like I can admit to Star that I never do repeats. Girls don’t like you saying that kind of shit to them.
But I’m not boyfriend material.
I’m a one-time, have some fun, catch you later kinda guy.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve spotted her a couple of times and always managed to dodge the celestial ball buster.
But not tonight.
She stops beside me, right beside me, pressing her hip against my thigh and kind of purring. “Hello, stranger. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Yeah, I’ve been kinda busy.” I run a hand through my hair and clear my throat, trying to look disinterested without being a total asshole about it.
She grazes her long nails down my cheek. “What’s keeping you so entertained?”
“Job.” I bob my head, resisting the urge to flick her off me. She’s pretty and everything, and I’d no doubt get her into the backseat of her car again, but…
Jules’s derogatory tone scrapes through my mind. She thinks I’m a man-whore…which I am, but it didn’t feel that great when she called me out on it.
“Tell me more.” Star is talking all husky like she did the night we met.
I don’t want to tell her more!
If I say I’m working next door, there’ll be no reason to stop her from popping by whenever she likes.
“It’s no big deal.” I shrug. “Just work.”
She leans away from me. My clipped tone’s finally working. Her boobs squish together when she crosses her arms. She’s practically popping out of her top. I avert my gaze.
“What’s your problem? I’m trying to be friendly and you’re acting like an asshole.”
I close my eyes and hiss. “Look, I’m sorry, okay. I know we had a great time when we met, but come on…that was just a little fun.”
“Yeah.” Her red glossy lips rise into a smile. “And I want to have some more fun.”
“I don’t…” I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
Her left eyebrow arches, her voice changing from husky to sharp and brittle. “Why not? Am I not good enough for you or something?”
Okay, this is not going well. I put on a smile, hoping to ease her away with a little Kingsley charm. “It’s not that. You’re one hot lady, and any guy would be lucky to have you. I just think that maybe you’re looking for more than I can give.”
“I’m not asking for a marriage proposal, you idiot.”
“I’m not offering one.” My quip is met with a stony glare. I meet it, slowly raising my eyebrows to show her I’m not perturbed. With a soft snicker, I shake my head. “Don’t be like that. We had a good time. We don’t want to spoil it.” I reach for her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Let’s just make it this awesome memory that can’t be tainted.”
She lets out a disgusted scoff, snatching her hand away. “You’re so full of shit.”
And with that, she spins away and struts off.
I grimace and turn back to the bar. “Hey, Keith. Any chance I can get some chow?”
“It’ll be here soon, buddy. They’re up to their eyeballs in orders back there.”
I nurse my beer, making a conscious effort not to glance over my shoulder and find out where Star disappeared to. She looked pretty pissed.
Eventually I can’t help myself and steal a glance. I spot her through the crowd at a round table near the middle of the restaurant. Her pouty lips are sulking, her anger obvious as she spouts off to the dark-haired guy beside her. His eyes narrow, his laser glare hitting me right between the eyeballs. I spin away from it, wishing Trey and Riley were here. It would be nice to have backup.
But I don’t.
So I’m gonna keep my head down, eat my food, and then get to work.
The meal’s amazing—an overstuffed burger filled with grilled chicken tenders slathered in apricot chutney, two slices of bacon, and then this melted cheese that oozes out the sides when you bite into it. So good. I wolf it down, thank Keith, and then head back to the rink. I can still feel death glares hitting my back, so I leave through the front entrance. If I go through the kitchen, they’ll figure out I work here.
The air outside is cold and hits me right in the face. Hunching over, I trudge to the rink and quickly get to work. The locker room’s not too bad. I tidy it up, store all the gear properly, and make sure the laundry bag is left out for Keith or Cassidy to take home.
I then get to work on the ice. I actually love driving the Zamboni and I take my time, making sure the ice is smooth like glass before packing everything away.
Because I’ve worked so slowly, time has crept away on me. Skate Home will be closing soon; I should lock up the rink before idiot drunks stumble in here looking to blow off some steam.
I grab my bag from the locker room and am just shoving my phone into my back pocket when I hear a goofy laugh from the top of the ramp.
“Shit,” I mutter. “Should have locked up sooner, Kingsley.”
Bracing myself, I head out to the rink, prepared for an argument.
They haven’t hit the ice yet, so I shout out before they open the gate. “We’re closed! I’m about to lock up, so…” I flick my chin toward the exit.
The four guys jerk still and turn to face me—a little army of rebels. It kind of reminds me of my Eton roommates. Trey, Riley and I were a pack. We never let rules stop us, and we stuck together no matter what.
Until I decided to leave them…
Frickin’ lone wolf.
The second I recognize the dark-haired guy from the bar I realize what an idiot I am. His laser glare is back in place, his upper lip curling with a sneer. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
“What?” I frown.
“You think you’re too good for Star, huh?”
I sigh and can’t help rolling my eyes. I’m really not in the mood for this shit. “Listen, man. I don’t want any trouble. I’m sorry if I offended her.”
“You show her a good time and then blow her off like she’s some prostitute. That doesn’t roll with me, bro.”
Geez, this guy is irritating. And prostitute? What the hell has Star been saying?
“Look, man, I’m not your bro. And this isn’t actually your problem. Star’s a big girl. She can look after herself.”
His fingers curl into a fist.
Well, this is going great.
I clench my jaw, forcing back some snark and trying to diffuse the situation. If Riley were here, he’d be nudging me in the stomach, shutting me up. Trey would be prepping for a fight, adrenaline already pumping through his veins.
Three on four. We could have taken them easy.
Four on one? I’m not so sure the odds are in my favor.
I eye them carefully, my jaw working to the side as I try to weigh up how much damage they can do.
The two at the back are tall and bulky. It’s more flab than muscle, but still, they could hold a guy down. The short one in the front—Mr. Laser Glare—he may be smaller than me, but there’s something very pit bull about him. I bet he’s vicious and that, along with his company of manpower, is gonna serve up a whole heap of pain.
Although I’m usually the last to back out of a fight, I’m not stupid.
“Look, guys. Seriously. I don’t want trouble. I think it’s nice that you’re standing up for your…sister?”
“Cousin,” he grits out.
“Right, so awesome. Family’s worth protecting.” My own words cut me off at the knees and I have to gulp back my guilt before I can keep going. “It’s very honorable that you’re looking out for Star, but do you honestly want me to play pretend? Isn’t that worse for her in the end?”
Laser Glare snarls and rushes me. I’m sort of prepared and manage to block his first punch with my forearm, but he catches my side with a quick left hook. I grunt and try to hit back but my arm is snatched and pulled behind me.
Before I know it, I’m being pounded on all sides—fists and feet are pummeling me. It’s not long until my ears are ringing, my vision is blurred, and all I can taste is blood. It drips out of my nose and off my lips.
Pain. It’s intense.
My entire body is pulsing in agony, robbing me of the ability to fight back.
Someone yanks my collar, pulling me up. I slump against a flabby arm, my groan feeble as he rests me on the edge of the rink and topples me over the barrier. I hit the cold ice with a hard smack.
It’s freezing, but the thought of moving is too much.
Jeering laughter fades into the background. Thumping footsteps on the ramp. As soon as the door slams shut, I force myself to move. I have to get off the ice. I have to…
I manage to roll onto my back, and then the world closes in on me. Dark smudges blur my vision, and the intense ringing turns to a high-pitched whine in my head.
And then I just disappear.
#11:
An Expert In Stupidity
Julienne
Man, I am so exhausted. When is this whole overtired thing going to end?
Rubbing my lower back, I shuffle to the tiny room off the kitchen to grab my bag. It’s not there.
My eyes round with a gasp and I scramble to look under the table.
“What…” Panic is just setting in when logic plows through my fuzzy brain, reminding me of the hockey game. I was sitting in the top row and I tucked my bag beneath my feet.
Please let it still be there!
I rush out the door, barely acknowledging Keith’s goodbye.
“See you on Tuesday!”
Rubbing my forehead, I hurry to the rink, hoping the side door is still unlocked. I didn’t see Karl leave the bar, but I cross my fingers he’s still there so I can get my stuff before he finally locks up.
Stupid, forgetful, preggy brain. I can’t believe I just left my bag at the rink! It’s got everything in it—wallet, cash, keys!
Wringing my hands, I push on the side door and close my eyes with relief as it creaks open. The lights over the bleachers are off, but there’s enough light from the opposite side of the rink for me to find my way up the stairs and along the rows to where I was sitting. Crouching down, I slap the cold concrete and nearly cry when I feel the canvas strap. Yanking it free, I hug it to my chest.
“Thank God,” I whisper.
Now I can go home and finally relax. Hitching my bag onto my shoulder, I start planning out my next two days. I’m pretty sure it’s going to involve sleeping, having the world’s longest shower, reading a book, and maybe experimenting in my tiny little kitchen. Cassidy’s loaned me a bunch of secondhand kitchen equipment, and I wouldn’t mind baking up a sugary storm, trying out some desserts.
“Sounds perfect,” I murmur.
A smile is tugging at my lips when I reach the stairs, but it disappears in a flash.
I jerk to a stop, gaping at what I’m seeing.
Someone is lying on the ice.
Oh my gosh, it’s Karl. I recognize his boots and then notice his dark hair splayed across the ice.
Running down the stairs, I fling open the gate and gingerly step onto the slippery surface. I take my time inching across to him. The last thing I need is to fall over and hurt myself.
I should just go and get Keith, but I need to make sure Karl’s alive. He hasn’t even flinched since I spotted him.
As I creep closer, I see the blood. It’s wept into the ice, creating red blotches that make my stomach churn.
“Oh no,” I whisper, dropping to my knees the second I’m close enough.
He’s a mess. His face is swollen black and blue, painted with the blood that’s running from his nose and lips.
“Karl!” I shake
his shoulders, shouting into his face. “Karl! Can you hear me?”
He responds with a feeble groan. So unlike him. He’s usually so strong and sure of himself.
But not tonight.
Tonight he’s barely breathing.
I lean my ear over his lips, ensuring the flow of air is smooth and even. Satisfied that I won’t have to suddenly pull out any CPR moves, I pull back and assess him again.
His forehead wrinkles and he moans, obviously trying to open his eyes.
“Just relax. I’ll call an ambulance.” I rip open my bag and start digging around for the burner phone I picked up a few weeks ago, but his hand clamps around my wrist, cutting my frantic movements short.
“No.” His voice is weak yet commanding. “No ambulance. No police. No one can know. Please.”
“What?” I can barely form the question. What is he saying to me right now? “Why no police?”
“Just help me get to my bike.” He grips my arm, using it to pull himself up. It’s an effort, his expression distorting with pain. I reach forward and steady his arm, but he’s heavy with fatigue.
“There’s no way you can drive home in this condition. You need a hospital. Let me get Keith. He can take you.”
“No. I can’t. No hospital.” His husky voice is so quiet it’s hard to understand.
I give him a pained look, which he probably can’t see through his squinting eyes. “Why?”
He groans, his head flopping back.
I grip his shoulder, stopping him from crashing down to the ice. Maneuvering my body, I let him lie back against my knees and chest, cradling the back of his head on my shoulder.
He gently grips my forearm. “Please, help me.”
“I’m trying.” It’s impossible to hide my irritation. My jeans are soaked through from the ice. Between his cold, damp body and the ground beneath us, I’m going to turn into a popsicle.
Not to sound like a selfish cow, but I need this to be over so I can go home and sleep. “Just let me call someone for help.”
“Too many questions.” He puffs, struggling to speak through his swollen lips. “Police can’t know where I am.”
My stomach snaps into a tight knot. “Are you a criminal?”