Winning Streak

by Alice Ward

  “Excuse me.” I nudged the large man sitting beside me. He was blocking my exit, and I wanted to get a head start before people flooded the aisle.

  He continued to snore, only louder.

  Other passengers piled out of their seats and started pulling their suitcases from the overhead compartments. I watched with growing irritation as they all began moving towards the front of the plane to exit. Except me. I was wedged into my tiny space by the man who must surely hold some world record for deepest — and noisiest — sleeper.

  “Sir!” I used my elbow this time, jabbing him right in the side.

  He came to with several snorts and a bellow, then turned hateful eyes toward me, grunting a few things I’m glad I didn’t understand. Slowly, he worked his abundant frame from the seat, and with sloth-like movements, finally retrieved his luggage only after every single damn person had exited the plane.

  The nice flight attendant gave me a sympathetic smile and friendly, “Have a great trip,” when it was finally my turn to trudge off the plane.

  I smiled and hurried to the exit. The gate was filling up quickly with passengers for the next flight, scowling at me as if I’d been the one to cause the delay. My snoring nemesis was safely ensconced in a courtesy golf cart, the asshole smirking as he rode on his merry way.

  Dick!

  Whitney’s face lit up, and her arms flailed in the air as I walked past the security entrance. “Where have you been?” Her voice was filled with urgency and concern.

  I rolled my eyes. “I got trapped by the slowest man on the planet.”

  “I was afraid you’d changed your mind about coming.”

  There was nothing in this world that would’ve made me change my mind about leaving that small house where my dad terrorized my every move. I was free.

  “Do you have bags?” she asked.

  I laughed at her understatement and took her hand as we walked towards the baggage claim. The suitcases were already spiraling around the belt, mostly being grabbed up quickly by people dispersing in a hurry. “Is that yours?” Whitney pointed to the red leather bag coming around the loop.

  “Yup, that’s one of ‘em.” I wasn’t sure how to break it to her that I brought three, not one.

  Whitney grabbed the first red bag while I grabbed the second one, just slightly smaller. She started to wheel the large suitcase away from the conveyor when I told her I had one more.

  “Wow, are you staying for good?”

  “I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here, and the weather’s changing quickly.” That was my way out of dealing with that question, at least for the moment.

  The third bag showed up, the last one on the conveyor of course. I grabbed it, attached it to the larger one and started towards the doors.

  “Where’s Calvin?”

  “At practice right now, but he’ll be home shortly after we arrive.” She sounded so proud when she talked about her fiancé. And I was thrilled to see the love shining in her eyes. The two of them had gone through hell and back with each other. No two people I knew deserved a happy ever after more than them.

  “So, he’s doing okay?”

  “Yes. He’s doing amazing. I’m so proud of him.” Her face lit up, and her eyes actually sparkled. Yes, sparkled.

  “Holy shit. It’s cold.” I buried my face into my coat as the automatic doors opened.

  Whitney laughed. “Yeah, New York is a little colder than Indiana.”

  A black Lincoln Town Car was parked directly in front of the doors. I recognized the driver from my last trip. “Good to see you again, Harry.”

  The older gentlemen smiled, then took my bags. I usually didn’t like him doing all the work, but this time — just this time — I was willing to allow it. It was too cold.

  The back door was already open, so I quickly climbed in to get out of the wind.

  Whitney pushed in beside me. “It was much nicer yesterday.”

  “Oh, so I brought this bad weather?” I teased.

  “No, of course not. The temps are supposed to climb back up this week,” she assured me.

  The driver finished loading my bags and scooted into the front seat. He looked over his shoulder, asked if there was anything I needed, then started out of the airport once I declined.

  Whitney was rambling about Calvin, how well he had recovered from his injury, how their house was coming along like a dream, and of course, how she couldn’t wait for their wedding day. I was excited too, especially to be the maid of honor.

  “Do you plan on seeing Ace while you’re here?” Whitney knew me well enough to know the answer to that question.

  I bobbed my eyebrows up and down at her, a damn right I am smirk lifting one corner of my mouth.

  She fake gagged. “Oh, Holly, you really should let me introduce you to someone new.”

  “Why don’t you like Ace?” I asked although I already knew the answer. I just didn’t know if anything had changed since I was last here.

  “Because I love you, and I want you to be as blissfully happy as me.” Her tone changed to a more motherly one. “And we both know Ace Stick-A-Dick-In-Anything-That-Walks only uses women.”

  “I know he’s a player. But you have to believe me when I say we’re both getting what we want from this relationship.” I laughed as she rolled her eyes.

  “Eww. Don’t call it a relationship,” she growled. “And check his pubes to make sure he didn’t pick up any sand crabs in Hawaii.”

  It was my turn to, “Eww.”

  She didn’t back down. “Seriously, Hol, I worry about shit like that. Calvin and I both got tested to make sure we didn’t pick up anything crazy during our… mutual mental breakdowns.”

  I laughed. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Well, it’s what happened. We both fell apart and went crazy for a few months. Luckily, we were able to put the pieces back together and come out better for it. I, for one, appreciate him a million times more now than I ever did before we went insane.”

  I grabbed her hand and gave it a good squeeze. “I really do want what you and Calvin have some day, but until I’m settled and have a better grasp on how I can accomplish my dreams, a real relationship will only be a distraction and complicate things. So, for now, I’d rather have fun with someone I don’t have to worry about getting serious with. We use condoms every time, so it’s all good.”

  She rested her head on my shoulder. “Just be careful, okay? You’re such a good person, I don’t want you to go from living with a disaster of a father to a disaster of a boyfriend. You deserve better than that.”

  The hair raised on my arms, knowing from psych classes how hard it was for women to break out of that cycle of neglect and abuse. How hard it had been for my mother.

  “Is it okay to just have fun for a while and not think about boyfriends or relationships?” I asked her.

  “Yes. It’s absolutely alright.” She grinned over at me. “So go get laid so you can focus on helping me with my wedding.”

  I held out a fist, and she bumped it. “Yes, ma’am. Sex then wedding. I can do that.”

  Whitney and Calvin’s house was like a dream. The old Parker place that she had dreamed about for years looked as if it were delivered to New York, only with a few major renovations.

  The car pulled into the circular drive, stopping at the bottom of the wide staircase leading to the wrap-around porch. “The place looks great.” I stepped out of the car as Harry opened my door.

  “Thank you, Harry.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Holly.”

  Whitney stepped out behind me, wrapping her arm around my waist.

  “You’ve been busy,” I noted, motioning to the expanded garage.

  “Yes, it’s really coming together just like I wanted,” she said excitedly. Her hand pressed into my back as she guided me up the steps and to the front door. “Wait until you see what else we’ve done.”

  Inside, the home was perfectly decorated, mostly in deep
reds and smoky grays to match the team colors. “Whitney, this is beautiful.”

  “There’s more.” She nodded to Harry, who was bringing in my bags, and motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen.

  Everything looked brand new. She and Calvin had been busy, that was apparent. She stood at the back doors, her hand resting on the string that controlled the blinds as her smile grew larger. I wasn’t sure what to expect as she gave the string a tug and the blinds moved out of the way.

  “You expanded the pool!” I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Whitney had always wanted a pool, a real one, not the inflatable kind her mother bought each summer. While the house had what I considered a nice pool before, this was more of an outdoor oasis, waterfall and all. Fancy patio furniture was placed around it, and even though the cover was still on for the winter, I could imagine how much fun we’d have once summer finally arrived.

  “Yes, but that’s not all.” She turned the handle on the door and opened it with a, “Tada!”

  I dreaded going back outside into the cold, but I couldn’t wait to see what else she had to show me. The cold wind made me shiver as I pulled up the collar of my coat.

  A gray cottage like building sat in the backyard, complete with a front porch, a matching roof to the main house, and the cutest windows I’d ever seen. “A pool house?”

  “Not just a pool house.” Her smile grew even larger. “A guest pool house.”

  Harry smiled at me as he passed, lugging my largest bag onto the porch of the little cottage.

  “I thought you’d like having some privacy.” Whitney’s smile warmed me, even though the wind tried its best to freeze me to the core.

  I was stunned. Excited, but stunned. Was she saying what I thought she was saying?

  “You mean?” I paused and cleared my throat. My eyes began to well up with warm tears, and I feared they would freeze once they hit my cheeks.

  “Come inside.” Whitney met Harry at the door and pulled a key from her pocket. I watched with anticipation as she opened the door and let Harry inside to deliver my bag.

  It was much larger than I imagined from outside. The front door opened to a tile entry, gray of course. The carpet was a deeper gray, thick, and much more expensive than what was in my childhood home. A narrow staircase led to a loft that Whitney said held a computer desk featured an oval window overlooking the pool. I followed her through the house, into the kitchen that looked nothing like what I’d expect in a pool house. A single bedroom was situated at the end of a wide hallway. A fireplace, king size bed with a red down comforter, and a master bathroom to die for filled my heart with excitement. A set of beautiful white French doors led to a private patio complete with a hot tub, separate from the one Calvin and Whitney used.

  “It’s all yours,” she told me.

  I couldn’t speak. Even if I could, I don’t know what I would’ve said at that moment. Tears streamed down my face. Harry set my last two bags in the bedroom and smiled as he made his way back out of the room. The door closed as he left, leaving me alone with Whitney, my best friend, who had just offered me more than she could ever imagine.

  My arms opened, and I reached out for her, pulling her into me closely. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Okay, enough mushy shit,” she sobbed, wiping tears from her cheeks as she pulled away from our embrace. “I have wine.” Her tone shifted to a more upbeat one, and her smile widened.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked, following her into the kitchen, my kitchen.

  This was all so overwhelming. I didn’t have to go back home. I didn’t have to live with my dad anymore. No more abuse.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said, pulling a bottle of white wine from the fridge.

  “And Calvin?” I asked.

  “It was his idea.”

  I had a hard time imagining that Calvin would have made such an offer. Whitney, yes, but Calvin?

  “Get that look off your face. Calvin loves you,” she insisted.

  I shook my head, still in disbelief.

  “Grab a couple glasses,” she ordered with a wink. “After all, I’m the guest here.”

  I reached out, grabbed two wine glasses from the rack, and set them on the granite countertop while Whitney opened the wine.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll start working on getting your own bakery. You can’t live here forever, ya know.” Whitney twisted the corkscrew and unleashed the cork from the bottle. She looked really pleased with herself.

  “Yes, I want to do that,” I admitted, still feeling dazed. “I’ll be able to afford it.”

  “I’ll help,” Whitney offered.

  I raised a hand. “No. You’ve done enough already.”

  Whitney rolled her eyes as she poured us each a glass. I loved how she filled the glasses nearly to the top. “Why make wine glasses so big if you’re only gonna fill them half way,” is what she always said.

  She handed me a glass and moved to the kitchen table. It was a cute wooden set, painted white with spindled legs and a tile center. “Sit.”

  I sat down at the table. My table. This was all too much, too generous.

  “You can’t do it all on your own, Holly. You’ll need help.” Whitney sipped her wine and leaned back against the padded chair.

  “I know. But I don’t want you to have to take care of me.”

  “What about Ace?”

  I blinked at her, shocked by her question. She hated Ace, or at least everything he stood for.

  “Ace?” I laughed and took a large gulp of my wine as I tried to read her. What the hell was she thinking?

  “He’s never offered?” she asked, her head tilting to one side.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “To help me start a bakery? No.”

  “Oh.” Her tone was odd, like she was hiding something.

  “Why?” I pushed for more. There was a reason she asked me, and I wasn’t leaving until I found out. Wait, I live here. This is my house. Okay, she isn’t leaving until I find out.

  “It’s just something he said,” she admitted, biting her lower lip.

  My heart picked up speed, although that wasn’t unusual when Ace’s name was mentioned. “What did he say?”

  She kept chewing on her lip.

  “Tell me!”

  “Well, he said something about financing your business.” Her words were so confusing to me that they might as well have been spoken in Chinese.

  My mouth opened and closed a few times, surprise rendering me speechless. “Ace Newman said he would finance my business?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. He was going on and on about how talented you are.”

  “Wait.” I sat my wine glass down but didn’t loosen my grip. I knew I needed that glass close, ready to deliver alcohol to my lips at any moment.

  “Are you fucking with me?”

  She laughed, then transitioned her face into pure seriousness. “I wouldn’t fuck with you about your business.”

  I knew she wouldn’t. Whitney wasn’t much of a liar either; she never had been. In high school, she told on herself for ditching school when she delivered a note to the principal in her own handwriting. “I’m sorry, don’t tell my mom,” she pleaded after telling the woman in the office, who was more than willing to accept the note that she lied and it wasn’t her mother’s handwriting. Whit even told the woman what she did the day she ditched — she was hanging out with me at the mall. Yeah, so she got me in trouble, but the point was, Whitney didn’t lie.

  “When did he say this?” I asked. I pressed my fingers into my temples, trying to get my brain to start making sense of this.

  Her shoulder lifted again. “A few months back.”

  “Oh.” I scanned my mental calendar. “Before he left for Hawaii?”

  She nodded and took a sip of her wine.

  I gripped my glass, lifted it to my lips, and downed the rest of it in one big gulp.

  “Well, that was then, this is now
,” I said, trying to be objective. “Besides, I haven’t seen him in months. The season was over. I went home. Life went on for both of us.”

  “When are you seeing him again?” I squirmed in my seat, not liking how pushy she was getting.

  Shit.

  In my haste to come off confident, cool, and even a little cocky, I’d left the ball in Ace Newman’s hands. What was I thinking?

  “I called, and we talked about hooking up but never set an actual date,” I admitted.

  “So, he’s supposed to call you, or are you supposed to call him?” she pushed, sipping her wine slowly, eyeing me as she finished her glass.

  “He’s supposed to call me.”

  She set her glass down and reached for the bottle, pouring us both another, nearly to the brim.

  “Well, good. Let him call you.”

  Really? Let Ace Newman call me. That’s a joke. I hated to admit it but every hook up we’ve ever had was initiated by me, every one of them!

  “Don’t you think he’ll call you?” Whitney asked. I knew my face was filled with panic; I didn’t know why I thought I’d get it by her.

  I shook my head and lifted the glass to my lips, sipping the sweet alcohol slowly as I mentally beat myself up. Why didn’t I say I’d call him when I got here? What was I thinking?

  “Holly, if he calls, great. If not, that’s great too,” Whitney said a little too calmly.

  I took a deep breath, feeling calmer. “You’re right. It’s not like I won’t see him around.”

  “What are you two ladies doing in here?” Calvin asked, his head pushed through the kitchen doorway.

  Whitney held up her glass of wine and smiled. She stood, moved to him, and gripped him around the waist. The way he looked at her, touched her, smiled at her. I wanted that. Ace Newman would never be that man. Maybe it was better if he didn’t call.