Puck Money

by Raine Miller

  Each arrangement of roses and gifts has been more impressive than the last. Right up to the one that arrived earlier today. A gorgeous display of easily three dozen red roses with a large box and a note.

  Krasotka,

  A red rose can have many meanings—Love, Passion, Beauty, Courage—among them. I know you are beautiful both inside and out or I wouldn’t call you ‘krasotka’ all the time. It is simply how I think of you, and I cannot change how I feel. I witnessed your courage in the face of terror and saw your warrior heart in action. Talia Wentworth, you are everything a red rose means to me. I only hope I get the chance to tell you in person. There are 2 tickets in your name at Will-Call for the game tonight. Tickets will always be waiting for you at each game we play this season. I hope I will see you at one soon. Your dragon man needs you.

  Boris

  I’ve put off opening the Sin City Graphix box for as long as I could. But that became kind of impossible to avoid when Parker brings it over and shoves it at me. “Open it, Tallie.”

  My hands are shaking as I remove the lid. Inside is a denim jacket. But it isn’t just any old jacket. It’s a stunning, customized work of art with embroidery in Crush colors and embellishments, and DRĂGHICI #90 splayed across the back. ICE DRAGON runs down one sleeve and his dragon is embroidered down the other. It’s so pretty I have to sit on the chaise to take it all in, so I don’t crumble to the floor in a heap. It’s when I remove the tissue from the inside of the jacket and see the label, that I nearly lose it. KRASOTKA is embroidered on the collar.

  Once I can find my voice, and after swallowing several times to hold back the tears, I tell Parker I’ve changed my mind.

  “I want to go to the game tonight. My puck-money dragon man needs me there.”

  I take an extra-long shower—so long that Parker bangs on the door to tell me to hurry my “cute ass” up. She French braids my hair into two long braids and puts me in the same leather leggings I wore before and a cute white top unworn with the tags still on, so it hasn’t had the opportunity to be slopped with mustard or ketchup yet, but give me an hour or two and I’ll probably get ’er there. I’m being realistic because you know, white shirts and me? Not a good track record. I’ll keep buying them though because I’m a baller like that. I layer my fancy Boris jacket over the white top and slip into some strappy red heels I really hope I can walk in, but damn, they do look pretty on my feet.

  Parker proclaims me “Ice Dragon approved” before shooing me out of the apartment.

  We walk to the arena; the noise getting louder as we approach. There is a band playing. Like, a marching band. There are women dressed in show-girl costumes with huge feather-plumed headpieces and teeny-tiny bikini tops. There are magicians and fire-breathers. It’s like a circus, a crazy menagerie of entertainers that totally sum up what Las Vegas is all about.

  Fans mill about, some drinking beer out of plastic Crush cups. They take pictures with the entertainers. Parker loves the whole crazy thing, but I’m fixated on the larger-than-life posters of Crush players, displayed brazenly all the way around the arena. When I see Boris’s poster, my stomach flips.

  Parker elbows me to get my attention but follows my gaze. “Ah. I see what’s got your attention. He is such a hottie.”

  “He’s pretty hot,” I agree. “But he’s more than that, too.”

  “Why do you torture yourself like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, tossing him to the curb and then staring longingly at his photo as if you’ve lost your best friend?”

  “I haven’t lost my best friend. I have you.”

  “You know what I mean, Tallie. You’re clearly head over heels for this guy.”

  “He said he thinks he loves me.”

  “Right after he rescued you from a bunch of underworld dudes. You’d been through a whole ordeal. He probably felt really emotional.”

  I give a whole-body sigh, gazing longingly back up at Boris’s poster. “Boris is a one-woman guy. Like, he wants to fall in love once and that’s it. And I worry that…I worry I can’t be that for him. His forever girl. You know? I’m not—he’s just really good and perfect, you know? He deserves someone perfect, too.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “No.”

  “And you think he is?”

  “I mean, no one is perfect—“

  “Exactly. You’re making shit up so you can justify that you’re scared about what you’re feeling. You found your guy. The guy. And he believes you’re the girl. So why don’t you just admit it, get together, and get on with your lives together?”

  I bite my lip, thinking.

  Parker adds, “Unless something about the kidnapping is holding you back?”

  I look at her sharply. “It wasn’t his fault.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  I grit my teeth. “I guess I-I know he’s too trusting of people. Maybe not as much now that I’ve pointed out how much money they stole from him, but he acted naïvely—for years—and I guess—I guess I feel that maybe I got hurt because of that naïveté.”

  And there it is. The thought I haven’t voiced. To anyone.

  Parker pulls me into her arms for another long hug. She says, “That’s a very valid thought and I’ll bet he thinks it even more than you do. I think you need to go talk to someone about your PTSD. But I also think you need to forgive Boris. I think you need to forgive him and let him love you the way you deserve to be loved. He seems like a great guy with a huge heart. We should all be so lucky.”

  I know she’s right. He’s tried to apologize a million times. He feels guilty about what happened, that he totally blames himself. But really, how could he have known who these guys were? They took advantage of him in every possible way. I have to let this go. I have to get past it.

  Perhaps the hardest thing about being fast-tracked through school and college was always feeling out of my depth. So young. Excluded. Emotionally behind. I never learned to read social cues well, because all the girls in particular, were far more worldly and never helped me get past that. Part of the leftover fear has inhibited me in forming relationships.

  Ultimately, though, I didn’t read Boris wrong. He never played with me or my feelings, or misled me. I know that now. But a week ago, I was locked in my darkness, fearing what other things could go wrong in my life. So, before that could happen, I pushed one of the few very good things in my life away. But if he has forgiven my behavior, I can see that it’s time for me to do the same. After all, he too was thrust into an adult world much younger than he was ready for. Largely, he rose above that and became a man of compassion, empathy, and honor. And I am completely and utterly in love with him.

  I turn back and snap a picture of the huge poster and then text it to Boris.

  * * *

  Talia: I’m here with Parker and can’t wait for the Quidditch match to begin.

  Talia: Hope you catch the golden snitch.

  Boris: ??

  Talia: It’s a Harry Potter reference.

  Boris: I do not know Harry Potter.

  Talia: There is no possible way you have never heard of Harry Potter. Have you lived under a rock?

  Boris: Still no.

  Talia: This isn’t happening. There’s no way I can be in love with someone who doesn’t know about Harry Potter.

  Boris: Are you saying you’re in love with me?

  Talia: If I was???

  Boris: I would be a very happy man.

  Talia: Well, be happy then. And go light the lamp for me, because I’ll be in the stands cheering for my dragon man tonight.

  * * *

  Parker and I have the best seats, right behind the Crush penalty box. There’s a huge pre-game show and the arena feels electric as a video plays, showing highlights from the preseason games. The music is loud, so loud that the bass rattles in my chest. Parker and I drink beer and eat pizza and dance, and when they finally announce the team, we go crazy, screaming and cheering, particularly for
a certain star forward.

  The team skates around the ice and I can tell Boris is looking for me. I get worried that maybe he won’t recognize me with my hair in braids, but then realize my black glasses probably mark me, no matter what I wear. He sees me on the second pass, a grin breaking out on his amazingly handsome face. Butterflies are all up in my stomach at the sight of him. I blow him a kiss and he smiles even wider.

  “Goddamn,” Parker says, fanning herself. “That was some crazy chemistry I just witnessed.”

  “He’s—“ I don’t even finish the thought, instead shaking my head and blowing a big breath out by puffing my cheeks.

  “Yep,” Parker says. She gets me.

  Boris just scored his second goal of the night. He’s a machine. The team is a machine. The words ICE DRAGON are up on the jumbotron, with a crazy graphic of a dragon with a face that looks oddly like a mix of him and the tattoo that snakes up his arm.

  “That’s my man,” I yell. Parker and I are arm in arm, jumping up and down like we just met the Beatles or something.

  “That’s your man,” she yells.

  The game has been fast and furious, with the opposing team out for blood. They want to prove that the Crush are all hype, but the Crush have played with pride, allowing only one goal to their three. Big Viktor Demoskev is a wall of defensive strength. Parker swoons over him, but I elbow her and inform her, “He’s engaged to Scarlett…who happens to be six months pregnant.” I make a pregnant belly gesture with my hands. “She’s sweet. I met her in the First Wives Club at the other game.”

  “Boo, all the good ones are taken,” she says, pouting.

  “There’s a single guy for ya.” I point out Tyler and tell her he will definitely flirt with her if she wants him to. “He thinks flirting with random women is his superpower.”

  “I won’t complain if he comes along with us after the game, he’s hot!” Later when he gets the final goal for the Crush, deflected off his stick to go five-hole (between the goalie’s legs) from a slap shot by Boris no less, she is jumping up and down like a lunatic cheering for him. The jumbotron shows a replay of his goal and LOCKHARDT LOCKS IT DOWN blasted across the screen over his celly (celebration after scoring) while the thundering crowd nearly brings the walls down it’s so insanely loud.

  The post-game celebration is just as wild. The noise is ridiculous, my ears ringing from all the screaming. I text Boris to remind him about Parker being here with me and if he could ask Tyler to come by and meet her after they are finished. He tells me it’s a done deal already and to wait for them outside the south entrance.

  About a half hour later, he comes out showered and looking damn fine in his blue pinstripe Euro-cut suit paired with brown loafers. His still damp hair is slightly mussed, upping his hotness quotient again—if that’s even possible. Teammate Tyler looks just as fancy in his window-pane gray suit and purple shirt. Hockey players are quite the clothes horses, but I’m just here to watch and learn.

  “Boris, I’d like to formally introduce you to my best friend in all the world, Parker Reaves. Parker, meet Boris, also known as the Ice Dragon.”

  They shake hands and then Boris introduces Tyler to Parker, who promptly gives her a kiss to the cheek before turning to me. “Hot librarian, it’s good to see you again.”

  “You as well,” I say as Boris reaches out to take my hand in his. He tells Tyler and Parker to lead the way, as we start to walk in the vague direction of the Strip. I have no idea where we’re going and really, I don’t care because I just need to spend some time with Boris. It feels like a month since I’ve seen him, but it’s only been one week. A painfully horrible, long, torturous week though.

  We fall back a bit from Parker and Tyler who seem to have hit it off as they chat away like they’ve known each other for ages.

  “You wore the jacket.” He looks down at me and squeezes my hand. “You came to be my good luck charm when I needed you. It means a lot.”

  “I’m so sorry, Boris, for pushing you away. It wasn’t right for me to do it that way. Forgive me—“

  “No, I should be sorry. I feel sick about how fast I rushed things with you and pushed you. And the way I behaved at your office, I wasn’t myself that day.”

  “Well, the office sex wasn’t so bad.” I’m grinning. “Honestly, I just didn’t know where to put all the feelings, you know? There was so much intensity and I just…I hadn’t really dealt with the thing that happened, and then you were saying the L word, and then there’s the part about you being so honorable and so good that I wasn’t sure I was good enough for you.”

  He looks utterly shocked. “You didn’t think you were good enough for me? Talia, I am just a hockey player. You are a highly educated, highly successful, genius financial planner. You are smart and sexy and bold and exciting. I’m a really, really boring dude, and I can barely read. If anyone’s not good enough in this relationship, it’s me.”

  A weird laugh pops out of me. “Umm, no. Just say no to that noise, Boris. You are in no way boring. Not to me or to anyone for that matter. Have you seen the ginormous poster of your hot self on the side of the arena? Sweet Christ, every woman in Vegas probably wants you.”

  “They want the idea of me,” he says. “They want to have sex with a pro athlete. They never cared to get to know me, so those sorts of women have never held my interest. You? You interest me. You have a bright mind. You have things to say. You have respect for yourself.”

  “Well, they can’t have you anyway, because you’re mine.” I stop and turn slightly to show him the back of the jacket. “I’ve got your name on my back to prove—“

  He shuts me up with a blistering kiss and then takes his time kissing me more slowly until I’m breathless and more than a little wobbly on my strappy red heels.

  When wolf whistles ring out around us, we start walking again, hand in hand a few more blocks until Tyler leads us into a smallish bar with a live band. There are lots of people in Crush gear and they all want selfies and autographs with Tyler and Boris. Tyler seems to love the attention, while Boris seems to simply tolerate it. Eventually though, we’re able to sit down in a booth.

  “I have one serious question,” Boris says to the group once we’ve each got a beer. “Who the hell is Harry Potter?”

  We all burst out laughing. Parker says, “The boy who lived?”

  Boris looks woefully confused.

  Tyler says, “Dude, it’s a book series about a bunch of kid wizards. It’s an international phenomenon.”

  “A book series…” Boris sinfully strokes his beard scruff. “Okay. It makes sense that I’ve not heard of it, then.”

  “Read a book, brother,” Tyler says, rolling his eyes. To Parker, he asks, “Wanna go do a shot at the bar?”

  Parker smiles and nods, happily hopping up to escape yet another of my long-winded treatises on the everlasting value of Harry Potter and the injustice that the series will probably never be considered a literary classic, even though it totally should be.

  I do force this on my sweet Boris though, who listens attentively enough, but seems visibly relieved when I finally stop babbling so he can kiss me again. He’s not let go of my hand since we sat down in the booth. He smells as delicious as he looks, and my heart is light for the first time in weeks. Boris has me tucked up against his side like he’ll never let me go again when he whispers, “You are beautiful tonight, krasotka. I very much like your hair in these braids.” He gives one a light tug and his eyes darken with a hunger that I’ve seen a time or two before. The electric jolt that hits me right between my legs requires me to squirm a little in my seat.

  “You are pretty beautiful yourself, dragon man.”

  We count as Parker and Tyler each do three shots in succession. I have a feeling my best friend is going to play the role of puck bunny tonight and indeed, an hour later, she and Tyler announce they are going back to his place to make waffle fries in his new deep fryer. I think it might be code for having sex but then again, maybe they
just have the munchies.

  Boris and I head out, too, back to our building. We go to my apartment so I can check on LuLu, who makes a big fuss over her favorite guy—clearly missing him for being absent in her life lately. I can’t help watching the two of them as he makes it up to her, speaking Russian to her in the sweetest voice. Gah, this man. He slays me dead with his swoony ways.

  After making sure she’s fed, I step over to the bookshelf and point to the row of hardcover special edition Harry Potters—among the most prized out of all my books.

  “Wow, there are seven of these books?”

  I nod. “Yep, and they get more and more complex as they go on. It’s a great story. I’ve read the series three times all the way through.” There’s way more pride in my voice than is warranted over this particular achievement, I suppose. It makes me blush.

  Boris comes to my side and runs a fingertip over my now most certainly pink cheek. “You’re very cute when you go full nerd. Maybe you can read these stories to me?”

  “Maybe we can start by watching the movies,” I suggest.

  “Fine, but I have a special place in my heart for listening to you read, as you know.” His tone darker as his eyes flash with mischief.

  “I don’t think that place is in your heart exactly,” I joke.

  He takes both of my hands in his. “Talia, I’m so sorry I rushed things. It’s just that I am a one-woman man. I do not want something cheap or meaningless and I am pretty sure what I feel for you is real. It’s just that the way I was raised has framed my feelings for how I want my life to be as an adult. My upbringing wasn’t great. I’ve not told you why I’m the way I am about relationships, but there is a reason for it, I suppose.”