“Em wants to talk to you.” Smythe shrugged. Something was up but Chris wasn’t really in the mood to figure it out. “Maybe I do too.”
It could still be anything. Official? Unofficial? Family? Who the fuck knew. “Inquisition or official?” he asked, deciding it would be better to get it out in the open as opposed to letting it go over and over in his head.
“I think,” Smythe replied, looking down to stare at his shoes in a way that made Chris curious, “maybe a little bit of both.”
That was it. He’d go. Mostly because he couldn’t stop himself; the temptation to figure out what the hell Smythe had to talk about was too great. “All right,” he said. “I gotta finish up here, but if I’m not ready to go when you are, I’ll meet you guys.”
“Good.” With that, Smythe followed one of the junior tattooists into one of the ink rooms and shut the door behind them, leaving him no excuse but to go bury his nose in the Al’s latest financial question.
*****
E_GouldNYE DM@Melanie_Gould: you should come.
Melanie_Gould DM@E_GouldNYE: d.e.a.d.l.i.n.e not to mention I’m supposed to go to some party tomorrow. Can’t go to the party if I don’t get my pages done. If I’m out tonight, I can’t get pages done.
E_GouldNYE DM@Melanie_Gould: u need to come. mf wants to talk about stuff and need u to be there…
Melanie_Gould DM@E_GouldNYE: so you’re using me as a shield?
E_GouldNYE DM@MelanieGould: no. just an added benefit. U need to be interrogated by family.
Melanie_Gould DM@E_GouldNYE: you expect me to leave my work willingly to be interrogated by rebelboy?
E_GouldNYE DM@Melanie_Gould: come on. Besides. He wants to see you.
Even though she knew she could see Chris with or without the added interrogation, Melanie decided to humor her sister. Not to mention she’d made the night’s goal, which probably explained the pain in her fingers and her annoyingly dry eyes.
She deserved a reward.
And that meant a very extended taxi ride—subway would take too long—all the way down to the village, and a breathless half walk/half run following the direction pointed to by the icon on her phone’s handy-dandy map. Nervous and excited to see him again, she tried to breathe and calm herself down in some way as she walked into the pub. The last thing she needed was to pass out at his feet.
Unfortunately, as she began to look along the bar and at the people seated at the tables organized across the dining room, she found that didn’t recognize anybody. She wondered if she’d beaten them all to the pub, at least until she heard footsteps pounding in her direction. She turned towards them and saw her sister. Emily was dressed in clothes that suggested she’d taken a trip into the office—heels, a pair of black pants and a white collared shirt—yet her expression was far from businesslike. In fact, if Mel was a betting woman, she’d say that something was definitely going on.
“You made it! Really. So happy you came.”
Yep, something was going on. Her sister had either been drinking or doing some other thing she’d rather not consider. She opted for the easier to handle option. “How much have you had to drink?”
Emily shook her head. “Not a thing. Not a drop. I’m high on life and the possibilities, you know?”
Mel rolled her eyes, unconvinced. “And? What happened?” Emily shrugged, and Mel wasn’t sure what was going through her sister’s head. “Okaaay….”
“Well…you’ll see what’s happening when they get here.”
Used to her sister’s cryptic issues, Mel threw up her hands. “Whatever. I’ll just take this and run with it, as you’re apparently doing.”
Emily nodded. “Good. Just…really good.”
Unfortunately, nothing scared Mel more than that.
*****
It had taken Chris the better part of four hours to fix the mess made by the fact one of the junior barbers hadn’t remembered to pass in his most recent set of receipts. Not to mention the ones he had passed in were full of dye. It took him a matter of minutes to understand Al’s screaming on the other end of the phone.
But once his emergency patch job was done, he left Al’s office, attempting to stretch his left arm without straining his right shoulder, reminding himself he needed to put more ointment on it, as he headed into Razor’s main room. And there, sitting patiently on the couch, was Smythe.
“I take it this is a neutral zone?”
Chris laughed. “You think they’d let people wanting to stir up shit in here?”
Smythe nodded as he got to his feet. Asshole was a bit taller than him, even more so in cowboy boots no self-respecting Saskie would wear anywhere, even if they were doing farm related stuff. “Right. So can we talk?”
He shrugged, and gestured towards the office he’d stolen from an ever grateful Al. “This way. Probably the type of shit’d be better with the door closed.”
Smythe nodded. “Yeah.”
Once the door was closed, and they were sitting down, Chris drummed his fingers on the desk. “So what’s up?”
“I want to drill,” he replied. “You and I. Just quiet like. Maybe, testing some stuff.”
Chris raised an eyebrow, but he’d suspected something like this once Smythe said he wanted to talk. Even as the rumors got bigger that the Palisades weren’t going to trade the guy, it didn’t mean that Smythe himself wasn’t investigating other options for next season. The man was a top centerman, long reach, strong on assists. Empires could really use a guy like him next season. “Thinking about crossing the pond?”
Smythe crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. “Figure we can play, see how it goes. If I can play with you, then there’s a possibility. Shit, we’re practically family.”
That’s when the discussion changed from hockey to the inquisition. “Aaah, yes. Would you like to tar and feather me or boil me in oil?”
Smythe raised an eyebrow. “Fucking hell, boy. Can’t you be serious for once?”
Chris sighed. “Well, nobody expects the Oklahoman inquisition, but if you’re serious…”
Smythe tried not to laugh, he respected the man for it. But that didn’t stop the freight train of discussion. “You just better not be playing around with her,” Smythe began. “Mel seems like she’s all tooth and nail, but she’s making Em freak the fuck out because half the time she doesn’t know what she’s doing. And when Em freaks out…”
Now it was the ‘rolling of the eyes’ time. “You get to kick my ass?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
He shook his head, but he just had to grin. “I’ll totally drill with you, but ass kicking leaves you on your own.”
Smythe nodded. “Good,” he said as he got to his feet. “Now, let’s go eat.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Chris returned, even though he knew there was going to be much more to dinner than just the food. And none of it would be good.
*****
It didn’t take long for Melanie to discover what Emily was alluding to. Her sister and Mark…MF—whatever his name was—dropped their little bombshell not long after the foursome sat down to dinner.
“So,” Emily interjected, “what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Um,” Mel managed to swallow the bite of the burger she’d taken before she replied. “When tomorrow? We’re busy tomorrow night, but…well…”
“So,” Emily continued, as Mel hoped she wouldn’t say anything to freak Chris out. “Mark and I are meeting Dad tomorrow for a late lunch. We were hoping you’d…you know…invite Mom to a late lunch. You and Chris….”
She raised an eyebrow, trying not to focus on Chris’s expression. Their parents had a contentious relationship when it came to their daughters. It was the one thing that could bring a couple that had been together for thirty years to blows. And it was better to bring their mother to lunch than their father. Once she’d gotten herself together, she turned to Chris, who smiled indulgently. “Sure.”
Emily smiled. “Awesome. Arnie’s been talk
ing and you know, Mom’s been curious to…well…”
Mel rolled her eyes, swirling a fry in the ketchup. “So why did you not warn me before now? Or why didn’t she?”
“You were on deadline and so I did you the favor of keeping her nose off the scent. Now, well, it’s time for Mark and I to sit with Dad, and you need to sit with Mom.”
Which, she decided, as long as Chris agreed, would be okay. Of course, she’d owe him. Big time. And she’d happily settle up. Later.
*****
Dinner finished without further incident, leaving Chris free to ponder what had actually happened. He’d been shanghaied into a lunch with her mother. But Mel had seemed so freaked out about the idea that he didn’t mind so much.
“I’m so sorry,” she managed as she put her head on his right shoulder and he’d found himself glad he hadn’t injured that one.
They’d arranged for a car to take them back to her apartment, thankful Smythe and Emily headed back to Jersey. “I really didn’t mean for you to have to deal with my mom….my parents even, not yet. And I can’t even have you upstairs tonight because I’m behind and I...”
“Hey,” he said. He ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm her down in some way. “It’s fine. Really.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. “It could be worse you know.”
She turned, and looked at him, rolling her eyes as if she couldn’t think of anything. “Mmmm?”
He laughed. “I suspect you’re better at drawing crazy scenarios than I am,” he replied. “The ones that go through my head either involve numbers or hockey players.”
She nodded, and he saw the blush rise in her cheeks. “I actually am kind of bad at that. I’m…I overanalyze most things like a complete moron. And half the time, my sister tells me that I’m overreacting to something that half the universe doesn’t see.”
He nodded, grinning back at her. “I guess numbers could be interesting. You know, watching them as they get into fights over debt allowances and things like that…”
This got her to laugh. “They end up in the penalty box?”
He shrugged, then focused on her. “Only if they push the debt over the available capital…”
The sound of her laugh pushed a smile onto his face, made him relax, made him grin, made him look at her in complete awe. So he did the only thing he could possibly think of. He kissed her. Let go, there, in the car, a driver she knew in the front seat. Not paying attention to a damn thing except the feel of her lips, the way her hands moved right to his ass, the way he couldn’t sit next to her as her tongue made moves in his mouth without getting hard, and how easily he lost control around her.
He moved his hand around the front of her to her skirt, pushed inside…tight fingers on her stockings, the way she didn’t let go, didn’t pull back but pushed forward, meeting his fingers with hers, shoving up the skirt, exposing the nylons beneath.
“Oh god…”Her words were raspy, swallowed as if she was reaching for air. “Oh god.”
“Mmmm. You make me lose control,” he murmured as his fingers found purchase underneath the nylons and the cute cotton bikini panties she wore underneath. “Mm…”
He placed his finger in the space between her panties and her legs, then carefully and easily brought his finger home. He followed the rhythm of her breathing, followed her focus, moving faster and slower with her cues. “Ohgodohgodohgod.”
“You like…”
“Very much…yessss….”
He grinned like a Cheshire cat as he watched her fall apart. “Good.”
Then he carefully pulled up her stockings and smoothed down her skirt. Once she was put back together, he leaned over and kissed her. “Think of me, mmm?”
She laughed and leaned towards him, touching his nose with the tip of her index finger. “I don’t think you should read the book I’m writing now,” she replied. “I think you might find things…”
He shrugged, grinning back at her. “I can only suspect…”
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she returned, her voice breathy and gorgeous. “But then again…”
He laughed as she got out of the car, shaking her ass just so that he’d see it. Dear god, he was going to die with a hard on.
Chapter Nine
Melanie woke to the ringing of the phone. Which would have been fine except it was much earlier than she’d planned to get up. She’d spent half the night writing to make up for the time she’d miss during the rest of the next day, and the time she’d taken off for the dinner the night before. Once she got to bed, her dreams had been wet, full of the many positions in which she’d fuck a Duke who’d been on the wrong side of the scandal sheets, who looked very much like Chris, if he were wearing a thin black cravat and nothing else. Which meant she’d not gotten very much rest.
“Hello,” she said as she picked up the phone, still barely making any effort to move from her bed.
“Melanie Jane,” her mother said, sounding rather sanctimonious. “Where are we going for lunch?”
Mel sighed, finding herself suddenly sitting up straight in bed, her forehead resting on the palm of her hand. “I just found out we were going,” she replied as she decided this conversation required caffeine of a sort. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to make the reservations.”
“That’s all right, dear. Knowing you’d be so last minute about things, I made a reservation at this charming Greek restaurant in Brooklyn. The reservation is for 1:30. You are bringing that fellow of yours?”
She searched for Zen, calm…something that would give her a degree of peace. It was probably impossible at this point, but she struggled with it anyway. “Yes, Mom. I’m dragging the guy that might be something in my life to lunch with you in Brooklyn. Today.”
“Might be something in your life? Melanie,” her mother sighed, her voice filled with the strange mix of patronizing and caring that she used when she received answers she didn’t quite like. “Melanie, really. You have to stop being so…insecure about relationships. I’m your mother. Arnie has spoken to me, and the fact your sister is not talking to me about this tells me all I need to know. Now you’re in one, Melanie. I would suggest you stop denying it.”
She sighed. “We haven’t characterized it yet. We’re enjoying it, but I’m not sure what it is yet, and I’m not going to tell you before I’ve decided what it is myself. I’m looking forward to lunch though,” she replied, as she got out of bed and padded to the kitchen. “Besides. You’re meeting him earlier than I would have chosen, so consider that a victory.”
“And I should drop the subject. Fine,” her mother replied, grudgingly. “I will see you then.”
Then her mother hung up the phone, leaving her speechless and in desperate need of both coffee and time to breathe.
*****
After a quick morning skate, a work out and a session with Nathalie during which the events of the previous day were not discussed, Chris headed out of the training center intending to drive back to Manhattan with enough time to spare before he had to meet Mel. Unfortunately, intentions went directly to hell as Coach Michaels met him in the hallway halfway between the locker room and the parking lot.
“Walk with me,” he said, an expression on his face which made Chris nervous.
“Sure, Coach.” Because what the fuck else could he say?
Michaels nodded. “I have to say,” he began, his tone still ominous, “that I’m rather impressed with how head down you’ve been as of late.”
“Thank you.” But he knew as surely as the sun rose, the worst was yet to come.
“I have my ears out, Emo. Right now you’re skating a streak and that’s fucking awesome. But there’s shit beneath the surface with you and if it erupts, fucking…”
His coach had turned the color of a tomato, and yet still, in that moment, the man paused in a surprising show of control to take a breath.
“All I’m saying is that if what I’m hearing about you and the ‘Girl in the Lace Corset’ ends up ripped all
over the tabloids and overshadows the great work this team is doing, you’re riding the fucking bench, streak or no streak. Don’t think I won’t.”
He then clapped Chris on the wrong shoulder, and only with a dose of herculean control of his own did he not show any sign of pain.
“Enjoy the day off, Emo, but not too much. See you tomorrow.”
And with that, Coach headed off towards his office as if nothing had happened, leaving him with a forty minute drive to replay the fucking conversation in his head. Lovely.
Not.
*****
“What’s wrong?” The question sat in the air, untouched, unanswered, as if by ignoring it Chris could make it go away. He’d been stewing about something since he arrived to pick her up and it hadn’t let up when they got in the car they’d hired to take them to Brooklyn.
The fact that he proceeded not to say anything about it to her drove Mel absolutely batty. Maybe she was insane for focusing on it, maybe she was overthinking the sudden change in his mood. For all she knew, he was angrier than he’d shown about being dragged to this lunch.
But there they were, walking through Brooklyn, past pizza joint after pizza joint, searching for the Greek restaurant her mom had chosen. She let Chris’s hand go for the second it took to reach under her coat and readjust the skirt she knew continued to make its way around her waist. “I’m sorry for dragging you out like this,” she murmured. “If you want to head back, I’ll meet you at the party.”
“And tell your mum what?” he replied, a surprising amount of anger in his voice despite its low volume. “That I got sick? That…”
“Fine,” she spat back, cutting him off. “You were distracted. I thought it was because of the lunch. Clearly I was wrong…”
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