by Raine Miller
“Oh, I don’t push them away fast enough. I always get sucked in. I always imagine whatever loser I’m with is my prince. I always fall hard and fast. It’s a sickness.”
“Daddy issues?” I ask gently. “Realize my question is coming from a girl who’s never met her own daddy.”
“Of course.” She nods into her drink. “I love my dad, totally a daddy’s girl, but he started it all. Gambler, big mess of a life. And I’m the one always there trying to peel him off the floor.”
She empties her glass of wine and heads off to the bar to order another. She gets a lot of male attention while she’s there and one guy buys her a drink. They flirt for a minute and then she waves me up to the bar.
Reluctantly, I grab my beer and scoot out of the booth. She puts her arm around me as I near the group. The guys are good-looking, not gorgeous, but passable. The one who has his eye on Scarlett has shaggy, brown hair and retro-looking eyeglasses. His friend is a total hipster with thick reddish-blond hair in a man-bun. He has one of those big beards, and he’s wearing skinny jeans. I’d bet someone money right now that they work on computers or something equally nerdy.
“So, you two work for the Crush?” Retro-Glasses asks.
“We do,” Scarlett says. “I work in social media. Pam works in physical therapy.”
“I’m Rowan.” Big-Beard holds out his hand. “You’re Pam.”
I nod and take his hand. “And this is Scarlett,” I say, hitching a thumb toward my friend.
“And I’m Brett,” Retro-Glasses says. “We’re in town for a tech convention. We own a software company.”
Boom. I am the champion. Tech guys for the win.
We chat with the guys over the next round, but I’m bored by the time my bottle is empty.
“Scarlett, I’ve got to run over and check in on Holly before it gets too late. Share a cab?”
She nods, but types her number into Brett’s phone. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
We hop in a cab. Scarlett’s apartment is on the way to Holly’s house. She babbles about how cute and nice the guys were and asks why I didn’t give Rowan my number.
“Not my type,” I say with a shrug.
“Are you still pining over Georg Kolochev?”
“Not pining, dear.”
“But you do like him, though.”
“I do,” I admit. “I doubt there’s a future there. And I’m not supposed to date him anyway—not if I want to keep my job.”
“Just fuck him and get it over with. You totally should.”
“Nice potty mouth.” I smack her playfully in the arm.
Scarlett breaks into giggles. “I think I’d like to fuck Viktor Demoskev,” she blurts before slapping a hand over her mouth and blushing ten shades of red.
“Yuck. I mean…seriously, Scarlett?” I shouldn’t judge. While Viktor isn’t my flavor, he obviously appeals to Scarlett. A lot.
“Not yuck,” she insists, shaking her head almost violently. “Yum. He’s yum. It would be so hot with him, even if he is in the Russian mob.”
“Go home, drunk, you’re Scarlett.”
Scarlett finds this inordinately funny. She’s very drunk, I realize, so I make sure she gets into her apartment safely and then have the cabbie take me to Holly’s.
“Wait—you’re telling me Scarlett suspects Viktor could be in the Russian mafia? Oh Jesus, she did not say that.”
I think Holly is more dumfounded than anything. And I didn’t even mention the “fuck-not-yuck” part. Some things are best left alone, and the thought of Viktor and Scarlett doing it is definitely something I am leaving alone.
“She was drunk, so who knows, but yes. I think she really believes he might be connected to the mob. She also thought Georg might be, which seems downright crazy to me.”
“There’s something peculiar about our girl,” Holly says from the couch, where she’s resting with her swollen feet up on a stack of pillows. “I’m not sure I want her poking around in my job over there.” Her belly looks like a beach ball underneath her pink and white striped T-shirt. She’s adorable, but I don’t tell her that. I know she doesn’t feel at all adorable while being so uncomfortable in her last days pregnancy.
“That sounds like A-type hormones gone wild,” I respond. “As your friend, I’m telling you that you need to relax and enjoy this baby. Don’t worry about the Crush’s social media work. You made a plan and she’s going to carry it out. And you’ll be back in no time, wishing you’d had more time with your baby.”
“You’re probably right,” Holly agrees, throwing her arm over her eyes with a dramatic sigh.
“She’s definitely right,” Evan shouts from the kitchen.
“Traitor,” she yells back. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
A few moments later, Evan pads in, wearing his flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He is a gorgeous specimen of a man, I must admit. He leans over the back of the couch and plants a thorough kiss on her lips.
“I’m always on your side, baby,” he says softly, grinning. “But you really do need to let go and just enjoy this time off. You’ve worked hard and you deserve it.”
“Oh, don’t try to butter me up,” she snaps, but she’s fighting a grin.
Evan sets a pint of ice cream and a spoon on her big belly and says, “I wasn’t trying to butter you up. Not even a little.”
Holly gives him a huge smile and scoots herself up, ready to ravage that little pint of ice cream. “Okay,” she announces as she shoves a big spoonful in her mouth. “You’re forgiven. For the moment.”
“You guys are giving me a toothache,” I comment. “I might need to leave before I lose all my teeth.”
“Marry Georg and you, too, can be sickeningly sweet,” Holly says.
This makes Evan laugh. “That seems like putting the horse behind the cart, or whatever that rubbish expression is.”
“Putting the cart before the horse,” Holly corrects through a spoonful of vanilla bean.
“Whatever.” Evan sticks his tongue out at her. “They’re not even dating.” He turns toward me with a curious expression and asks, “Are you?”
I shrug. “We had dinner out one night and he went home with a panic attack. Then he apologized and we made dinner at my house. But since then? A few flirty texts. A few words at work. Otherwise, nothing.”
“Do you think he’s spooked?” Holly asks.
“He likes her for sure,” Evan says. “But yeah, probably. A little. I mean, he’s worried he’s going to get traded. He’s trying to do the clean-living thing. And his agent is a flake. So, it might not be a good time for him to get in a relationship.”
“Has he ever been in a relationship?” Holly asks.
Evan thinks about this. “Not in a long time. Nothing serious, anyway.”
“We’re alike that way,” I say. “Which makes me think that this may have just run its course.”
“It doesn’t always have to be like that,” Holly argues. “Sometimes you can tame the beast.”
Evan refills my wine glass and his own. He winks at Holly and she blushes. They’re married and she’s nine months pregnant, and she’s blushing when he winks at her. I feel like I’m intruding in some kind of weird foreplay.
“But if he leaves for another team, then what’s the point anyway?” I ask, my head falling back against the comfy chair I’m occupying.
“Are you falling for him?” Holly asks. Great question.
Am I? I’ve never been in love or thought I’d get there either. But I told Georg something I’ve hidden as if it was a dirty secret. And instead of laughing at me or thinking there was something wrong with me, he treated my virginity as something sacred, and that wasn’t expected. I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone like Georg before, and given how much I think about him, sexting or not, that scares me.
“I mean…yeah. I think I am,” I admit. “Which sucks.”
“Well, I think you should tell him,” she says. “Just tell him. And if he feels
the same, you can make it work.”
“It’s not that simple, Holls.”
“It is that simple. Even if he gets traded, you can still do the long-distance thing. Or get a job closer to him. You’re good at what you do. You can go anywhere and do it.”
“Babe,” Evan says softly. “Calm down. They have to figure out their own thing. Just like we did.”
Evan’s sitting at the other end of the couch with her legs in his lap. Although he’s got a wine glass in one hand, his other is gently rubbing her thigh. I love how they can’t seem to keep their hands off one another.
“I’d better head home,” I say, standing up. “It’s super late. Thanks for the drink and the talk.”
“Call me tomorrow,” Holly says.
I nod and head for the door, plugging in a request for a driver as I do. I have a feeling those two are still finding ways to have sex, even though that baby is about to come out. They’re so happy and their happiness makes me both sad and hopeful. Holly was really hurting from her breakup with soccer boy at the end of college. She was sure she’d never find love again. That she’d never be happy again. And then Evan fell into her life and she tried not to love him. But here they are, married, happy, moving their lives forward.
Could I be so lucky? After the abuse when I was young, and then the years of pushing men away before they got too close, could I ever find someone who loves me the way Evan loves Holly? Who looks at me the way he looks at her?
And could I ever open myself up enough to let him in?
Seventeen
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Georg
“Ned, this is Devon.”
“Nice to meet you, Ned,” Devon says extending her hand.
Ned, for his part, looks a little dazed by the gorgeous woman in front of him. He takes her hand to shake it but can’t seem to come up with anything coherent to say. She’s used to it, I’m sure.
We’re at a small restaurant off the Strip. It’s a comfortable Italian place that has tall, private booths. I picked it because it’s time for an intervention. If I’m honest, I didn’t want to do this, but Devon is both soft-hearted and logical. She believes in second chances, and even though the man in front of me has pissed me off more than pleased me in the last few months, I’m trusting in her judgment on this one. I need better handling to reach my goals…and maybe he does too. And if there is any chance of having anything with Pam, I need to stay in Vegas.
We sit and order a light lunch. Ned orders a double Scotch on the rocks.
As we wait on our meals, I say, “Ned, I want more than what you’re doing. You get that, right?”
Ned nods. Beads of sweat have formed on his forehead. He uses his napkin to wipe at them, messing up his combover.
“You’re not sober, and it clouds your ability to do your job,” I say. “Devon is the team’s nutritionist and she’s been helping me clean up my act.”
Ned looks around wildly. He looks like a trapped bird. “I don’t need—“
“Don’t tell us you don’t need rehab,” I start. “You used to have a great reputation but your athletes are going to other agents.”
“Are you?” he asks.
“Maybe. Probably. You got me this gig, and I’m thankful. I want to help you.”
“Ned,” Devon says, “do you have a family?”
He pushes his lips together and frowns. “They don’t speak to me,” he admits.
“And why is that, do you think?”
“Because they say I drink too much, ruin stuff.” He straightens up a bit. “Look, I’m not perfect but I do okay. I don’t need to go to rehab.” The man is delusional, but a part of me gets it. Before we won the cup, I didn’t believe I had a problem either. I thought I could do my job and drink and fuck to my heart’s content. I’m not an alcoholic, but the dark side of drinking wasn’t far from what I craved daily. But not anymore. Ned’s got a team of people who could handle his business if he went away for a while. Whether he’d consider doing that is up to him.
“You may not think you need rehab, but from my side, watching you offer shit all in meetings, you do. You’ve got Len and Rosemary who can run your business while you’re gone. But you’ll lose it all if you keep going as you are.” He’s sweating and shaking his head, but there’s something in his expression that makes me believe he’s listening. Maybe he’s hit rock-bottom and we’re just a voice of reason at the right time. God, one can hope. “It’s up to you, Ned.”
Our food comes and Ned grasps his drink like it’s a life raft. We let him have it, talking about my career goals as we eat. Ned frowns the whole time, and I can tell he’s not comprehending everything I’m asking him to do. It’s only when we’re almost done eating that he says, “I can’t provide all of that.”
“No, you can’t,” I agree. “That’s the point. I need an advocate. I need someone ownership will listen to, who they respect. It may have been you at one point. Heck, I owe it to you for getting me onto the team in the first place. But now?”
“Ned, I know you don’t know me, and don’t have to listen to anything I’m saying. But I’ve worked with men with high-stress jobs and have seen alcohol ruin lives and careers. The ball is in your court here.” Devon’s voice is soft and calm, but also commands attention. It makes sense given her dual qualifications of psychologist and nutritionist.
Ned sits for a long time, hands gripping that glass of Scotch so tightly his knuckles turn white. Finally, he nods. “I don’t agree I need rehab, but I could take a look at a place…if you’ve heard of somewhere. But I need to call my team first.”
“Yes, you do,” I say. “Devon has a clinic she’s referred people to before, and she rang them before we came here. They’ll meet you today.” He doesn’t look completely convinced, but he has his cell phone out.
“Right, well…I need to call Len, and then…then I guess I could take a look.”
Ned sits for a long time, hands gripping that glass of Scotch so tightly his knuckles turn white. Finally, he nods. “Fine. I’ll go.”
We square things with the restaurant and load Ned into Devon’s car. There is a rehabilitation facility about twenty minutes outside of Las Vegas, and we drive him there, help him check in before riding back to town.
“Do you think I should have stayed with him?” I ask.
“What? No.” Devon shakes her head.
“I mean, do you think I should have checked in there, as well?”
“Hmm…” She seems to choose her words carefully before she continues, “I feel you know your own body and your own heart, Georg. And if the desire to do all of those things you talked about at lunch with Ned outweighs the desire to drink, then I would have to say no.”
“Good.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “A very good answer. Thank you. And thank you for helping with Ned.”
“It’s what friends are for,” she answers. “You did a good thing today.”
“Georgie,” Bud says as he ambles toward me in the hallway. His beer belly stretches out the Crush polo shirt he wears. “How’s it hangin’ today?”
“Good. I’m glad I ran into you, though. I’d like to sit down with you and Max and whoever else. I keep hearing trade rumors and I just put my agent into a rehab facility, so I’m on my own to manage things right now. I’d really like to talk about this with you all before a decision gets made.”
“Oh, well,” Bud stammers. “You know, those decisions are complicated. Budget and distribution of talent…”
“I helped take this team to the championship,” I say. “Evan and I work well as a team. No one knows his style of play like I do.”
“Well, I hear you, I really do, but I can’t stop a moving train,” he answers, his face turning red.
“So, does that mean a trade is imminent, Bud?”
“It’s on the table, yes.” It’s the most direct thing I’ve ever heard him say.
“Well, I want to see Max,” I say.
He sighs heavily. “I’ll try to
set something up for you.”
I know he’s just trying to placate me. Probably trying to get away from this conversation as fast as possible. “I’m serious,” I say sharply. “I deserve a meeting before a decision is made.”
He nods. “Okay, yeah. I hear you, big guy.”
Big guy? I want to fucking puke right here in the hall.
He must see murder in my eyes because his face goes an even deeper shade of red. He blinks. “I’ll get something on the books.”
And then he’s gone, toddling down the hallway, probably off to tell Max I’m a nut job who needs to be gone yesterday.
I make my way to the locker rooms, ready to suit up for our third straight home game. My head is all over the place.
“You okay there, bruv?” Evan asks.
“Just a lot on my mind right now,” I say. “I’ll be fine once we hit the ice.”
“What’s going on?”
“A trade in the works, and I just put Ned into rehab.”
“Did you call Scott?”
“I did. He was out of the country and said he’d call me back when he gets back next week. Might be too late then.”
Evan swears and then tells me it will all work out. I want to believe him. I choose to believe him, at least for now, since my team needs me to have my head in the game.
After pre-game rituals, we skate out on the ice. The lights are crazy and the crowd is wound up and loud. They’re happy to see us winning again. The sound of a full house really puts my mind in the right place, and my play reflects that.
Coach has Viktor and I out on the ice together, now he knows we can play together without killing each other. We play well off each other, working hard to protect our goalie from another team that just comes out lobbing shots on goal like a machine. Coach chose to play three defensemen and two offensive players, so Viktor and I flank Tyler in the middle, while Evan and Mikhail play up top.
We are stopping every single shot. Nothing is getting by us, and the crowd is crazy for it. The game is mostly defensive for us, up until the third period, when both Mikhail and Evan score two goals each. We win four to nothing, and the sound in the arena is enough to make us go deaf.