“What are you doing here?” she asks, and I wonder if this is such a great idea.
“Yeah, I called Zara about tomorrow, and Evan forced me out,” I tell her, and she turns to glare at Evan.
“That isn’t Zara’s outfit,” Evan says, giving me a chance to catch my breath. “I won’t even have backup tonight,” he says. “It’s just me. How am I going to fight off all the men?”
“Our reservations are in twenty minutes,” Zara says. “Let’s go.” She turns around to join Zoe, and they walk out of the living room, leaving just Evan and me.
“This should be fun,” he says sarcastically and walks out of the room, and I follow him. I think about ways to bail or different excuses I could use to get out of this and go home. Especially if we are going to be meeting Zoe’s date at the restaurant. I walk out of the house and see that both girls have gotten in the back seat. “Dinner and dancing on a Saturday night, who planned tonight?” Evan says, complaining when we get into the front seat.
“Your wife,” Zoe says. “I would have been more than happy with pizza and beer.”
“We could always go somewhere else.” I look over at her.
“You know where we can go? That new Korean barbecue restaurant that I’ve been dying to go to,” she says with a huge smile, looking at Zara.
“I think you need reservations,” Zara says, then looks at Evan. “I mean, I could name drop.”
“Ugh with the name drop. We should mention Matthew or Doug,” Evan says, mentioning Karrie’s dad and the owner of the team.
“Good call,” Zara says and then calls the place. “Hi, I’m wondering if you have space for four people tonight?” she says, and then she just listens. “It would be for the captain of the Stingers and his wife.” She smiles. “We will be there in twenty minutes.” She smiles, looking up. “They will make a place for us. Now let me call and cancel the other reservations.”
I wait for her to finish and then tell her, “You know what that means, right?” Zoe turns to Zara. “Someone just got shafted on their date night. Sorry, honey, that night out is canceled because the captain of the hockey team wants a table.”
“It is not,” Zara says.
“That is exactly what that means,” I say, now turning to look at them in the back. The way she’s sitting, her skirt is pulled up just a touch, baring even more leg. “I’ve seen it happen before in LA.” I quickly turn back to face the front.
I feel a hand on my seat, and then I hear her whisper beside me, “I can’t not drink tonight.”
“Have one for me,” I tell her and then turn to the side to face her. “And I’m sorry for showing up. They wouldn’t take no as an answer.”
“I mean, this still doesn’t mean I want to date you, FYI. Even though it’s like a double date.” She smiles at me, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Will I ever live that down?” I ask her, and she shakes her head and sits back in her seat.
“Not anytime soon,” she says and looks out the window, and I turn to look out mine as well. I wonder if she’s nervous about me meeting her date. I wonder if she’s thinking about what we spoke about. I wonder if she feels that little burning in her stomach that I’m feeling. I don’t have time to think about it or dwell on it because ten minutes later, we are walking into the restaurant, and I let out a huge sigh of relief knowing it’s just the four of us.
“That is a definite yes,” Zara says to me as I stand in the middle of a room with mirrors all around me. “Do you like the fit?”
I look down at the blue suit I’m wearing, and it’s almost like the blue suit I tried on right before this. It’s also the same as the black suit she made me try on. I’m about to answer her when I hear Zoe behind us. “It’s the same suit.”
Zoe lays with her head on the armrest of the couch in the waiting area, and Evan is next to her on his phone. “Why am I here?” she groans and looks at Evan who just smiles. I look in the mirror right at her, so it’s not obvious I’m really looking at her.
“You’re here because you owe me for carrying your ass to bed last night,” he says, and I shake my head. Last night, I sat next to Zoe and ignored my body’s reaction to her. I ignored every single time our hands grazed. I ignored when the wine started hitting her, and she would lean in a touch too close and talk to me. Zoe drank way too much wine, so much wine that it was her idea to hit up a karaoke bar.
“I don’t owe you anything,” she says, raising her head. “I was perfectly okay with sleeping on the stairs.” She then stands up. “I need some water,” she announces, walking out of the room.
“Evan,” Zara says, “go with her, or she’ll go to the furniture floor and nap on one of the beds.” He shakes his head, puts down his phone, and then goes in search of Zoe.
“Will she really go find a bed?” I ask, concerned she’ll be kicked out of this posh store.
“No.” She smiles and shakes her head. “Okay, maybe.” She shrugs. “It happened one time, but in her defense, we were furniture shopping for my parents.”
“I …” I start to say. “I …”
“You have no words. I know,” Zara says. “Now, besides suits, do you have active wear?” she asks me. “What about casual wear? Beach wear? Nighttime wear?”
“Nighttime wear?” I ask, confused, thinking it might be something else.
“What do you wear to bed?” she asks, then holds up her hands. “If it’s too personal, it’s fine.”
“Boxers,” I answer her, and she crosses her hands over her chest.
“Interesting,” she says, and I’m about to ask her what she means by that, but Zoe comes back in followed by Evan.
“If you aren’t out of that suit in three minutes, I’m going to go and crawl on the bed on the sixth floor,” Zoe says, sitting down on the couch
“Calm down. He’s done,” Zara says and looks at me. “You can undress. I’ll go speak to them about everything else now that I have your sizes.”
Stepping into the changing room, I’m done in under two minutes. When I walk out, the only one left in the room is Zoe who lounges on the couch. “I think I’m going to die,” she moans. “I’m breaking up with wine,” she mumbles. “For good this time.”
“Why?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“Evan showed me the video of me singing I am woman, hear me roar.” She closes her eyes and covers her face. “But it explains why my groin hurts. I haven’t done the splits since I was fifteen.”
“I’m just thankful that one part of your dress was longer than the other or else it would be a whole different show.” I sit next to her. Since I’ve told her we couldn’t date, it’s been lighter and more of a joking thing. Though it did sting a bit when she told me I wasn’t her type. It should have been a weight lifted off my shoulders, but it wasn’t. I mean, when she walked downstairs yesterday, my jaw pretty much hit the floor. She was the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and I’ve lived in Hollywood. She just oozed sex, beauty, and … fuck, those legs.
“You know what I need?” She’s sitting next to me, but today’s outfit of black leggings and a sweater is the total opposite of last night. She piled her hair on her head, and she wore her sunglasses the whole time.
“What do you need?” I ask her even though I know I shouldn’t.
“A burger,” she answers. “A greasy burger. A burger so greasy it’s running down your arms.”
“What are you two doing?” Zara says, coming back in. “I have been waiting for you two at the service desk.” She looks at me. “I put in a rush for the suit so it will be done by tomorrow, and the rest will be delivered by Thursday.”
“Zara,” Zoe says from beside me. “I want a greasy burger.”
“Oh, God,” she says. “I was just telling Evan that. We should hit up that Firestones. I’m going to tell Evan,” she says, leaving, and Zoe stands up and looks at me.
“Are you coming with?” she asks, looking down at me. I think about hitting up a meeting instead. “Did you h
ave other plans?”
“I was going to hit up a meeting,” I tell her. “You know, before I go away.”
“Oh my God,” she says softly, sitting down next to me. She rips off the glasses. “Is it because I got drunk last night?” Her eyes almost look like she is tearing up, and worry fills her face.
“No.” I shake my head and put my hand around her shoulder to bring her closer to me. “It has nothing to do with you.” I smell her right away, almost like a field of berries, and my mouth suddenly goes dry.
“Are you sure?” she says softly.
“I thought we went through this,” I say. “I don’t like you like that.” She turns and pushes away from me. Her touch stays on me long after she stops touching me.
“You’re a jerkface,” she says, angry.
“I leave tomorrow,” I tell her, “and even though temptation is everywhere, it is usually stronger on the road.”
“Do you have someone you can call?” she asks me, and I nod. “Why don’t you call him?”
“It’s Sunday, and I don’t really want to bother him, so I was just going to go to a meeting.” I tell her the truth. “But I could hit up a meeting after I have one of those burgers.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Are you sure?”
“I think I’ll be good. Worst case, I tap out early,” I tell her, getting up and holding out my hand for her. This is what friends do, right? “Let’s go get some grease into you, so you can get back to normal.” Turning, we walk out of the room. And when her hand slides out of mine, my hand itches to take it back.
“I swear, never ever again,” she says, putting her glasses back on. “Ever.”
When it’s finally my turn, I start. “I’ve been clean for one hundred and twenty-two days,” I say, thinking about what a milestone it is for me. “But tomorrow, I leave town and,” I say, and my hands suddenly shake just a touch, so I rub them down my thighs, “I’m worried I’m not strong enough not to go out searching for it.” I look around the room and see a couple of people nod their head like they know how that feels. “I’m just scared,” I tell them, and then the next person speaks. I stay until the end and walk out into the crisp air of New York; it’s starting to get a bit chilly at night.
I decide to grab a cab instead of walk, and as soon as I flag one down and get in, my phone buzzes. Taking it out of my pocket, I see that it’s from Zoe.
Zoe: Hey, so I found out that you were going to Philly, and I did a little research. These are some meetings next to your hotel. Just in case.
I shake my head. This woman. She went out of her way to get me the name of meetings near me. She didn’t feel sorry for me when I told her. No, she first blames herself, and then she helped me. I smile at the phone and see the three dots pop up and then go away. She’s either texting me, or she’s erasing everything. I look down, and this time, something comes through.
Zoe: That was pushy, right? I didn’t mean to be pushy. Just trying to help. I’ll stop now.
I look out the window as I think of what to text and finally just go with my gut.
Me: Not pushy, very thoughtful. You should stop doing things like that, or I might think you have a crush on me.
I laugh at that and then laugh more when she answers me.
Zoe: Barf.
I don’t bother answering her. Instead, I get home and take a shower, then slip into bed. Lying down, I look up at the ceiling, then turn and get comfortable and wait for sleep to take me. I don’t sleep as good as I have been. I go a full four hours before I wake up in a puddle of sweat. I get up and strip down the bed and look at the clock to see it’s 2:00 a.m. I grab my phone and go to the movie room and play a movie. Sometime during the middle, I doze off, only waking at six a.m. right before my alarm is going to go off.
When I walk into the rink after one, I look around and see that it’s very different from when I walked in here a month ago. Everyone is back to the grind. I’m also wearing my new suit that got delivered to me this morning along with two outfits that Zara rush ordered. “Hey,” I say to Matthew who comes out of his office and hits me head on.
“Hey,” he says, looking me up and down. “That the new suit?”
I look at him confused. “How did you know?”
“Group text,” he says and then shakes his head. “The girls are in a group text chatting back and forth about suits. Zoe was planning to murder Zara, and she was going over different ways to do it. Anyway, you ready for tomorrow?”
“No,” I answer him quietly and look around. “I guess it’s the nerves.”
“Yeah,” he says and then looks down. “It’s just the monkey on your back. As soon as you hit the ice and score, it’ll be fine.” I think about what he says, and for the first time in my life, I think about what it would be like not to score. To be sober and suck on the ice.
“Let’s hope,” I tell him, and he grabs my shoulder, squeezing it and walks away toward another office. I finally get in the locker room and sit down when Evan struts in.
“I hate road trips,” he says, sitting next to me and putting his bag on the floor. He then looks over at me. “I just dropped Zara off at Zoe’s.”
“She isn’t staying home?” I ask him.
“No, she has some appointments in the city, and it’s easier for her. Plus, I have reassurance that someone is taking care of her.” He grabs a drink off the cart in the middle of the room. “Don’t tell her I said that, or I’ll deny it.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I say, sitting here and waiting for everyone to gather.
Oliver, our public relations man, comes in, clapping his hands “Put away all important packages.” He laughs at his own joke, covering his private area with his hands over his bright blue suit with white stripes. “Listen up, gentlemen. We are leaving in twenty minutes. The bus is already here, so you can load it now if you would like. Once we get to the hotel, the manager will be there to give us the keys to your rooms. Rookies, good news. You get roommates,” he says, and then I hear the rookies moan.
“Count yourself lucky,” I say. “LA always has that policy,” I tell them, and some of them raise their eyebrows. I was always with my partner in crime. Easier to be roommates with someone who was also an addict and easier to hide when you would get up and snort a line of coke instead of having to hide in the bathroom every ten minutes to get a hit.
“See,” Oliver says, pointing at me. “It could be worse. There is also a team dinner tonight. More on that to follow,” he says, turning. “See you out there.”
“Here we go, boys,” Evan says, walking out of the room, and the rest of us follow his lead as we make our way out to the bus. Once there, I store my bag in the bottom hatch and climb the stairs onto the bus. Sitting in an empty seat, I grab my phone and go through my emails. I have to start answering some of these. “Holy shit. You have twenty-one thousand emails?” Evan says once he sits in the seat next to me.
“Yeah,” I say, scrolling through them and not knowing where to start.
“You should hire someone to take care of that.” I look over at Evan who shakes his head. “My sister Candace takes care of all mine plus my social media account. The only thing I work is my Instagram.”
“Really?” I ask him.
“Yeah. At first, she only did me, but then when I left, she started her own company. She has about twenty clients now. If you want, I can ask her if she’s taking on any other clients.”
“I think I need it,” I say truthfully. “Let me know what she says.” I put my phone away because just the thought of it makes my head spin.
The bus ride goes by fast, and the flight goes by faster. The only ones really excited about this are the rookies. When we get to the hotel, I grab my key and go to my room. It’s a standard room with a king-size bed and a desk. After dumping the bag on my bed, I sit down next to it. I’m out of my comfort zone and out of my safety net by not being at home. My heart starts to beat just a touch faster at first, and then it’s pounding while my hands get clamm
y. I rub them together and ignore the burning in my stomach and the weight on my chest. I reach inside my jacket pocket and grab my chip. My fingers rubbing over the words 90 days over and over again. I start to count to ease my mind when the phone rings in my pocket. Taking it out, I see it’s a FaceTime request from Zoe.
I think about pressing the red button to reject it, but my fingers have other plans.
“Hey,” she says when her face finally fills the screen, and my heart rate slowly returns to normal. “Are you busy?”
“No,” I tell her and look at her face, and my anxiety is kept at bay now. She has tiny, tiny freckles on her nose that you can barely see. “Just got to the hotel.”
“Oh, good,” she says. “The movers just left,” she tells me, and I see she’s in my apartment. “It looks like everything is here.” She turns the screen, and boxes cover my whole apartment. “I made a couple of executive decisions with the furniture.”
“What kind of executive decisions?” I ask.
“Well, I figured that since the boxes were labeled, they should go in their designated rooms,” she says, and I just watch her. “I made them set up the couch and the dining room in the area,” she says, showing me.
“Oh, I didn’t know they did that,” I say, feeling a touch relieved I don’t have to move the boxes. “I thought it was just dump and go.”
“They don’t usually, but when you bat your eyes and act helpless, it gets people moving,” she says with a smirk. Looking into her eyes, I know I would do it for her if she asked me. “Anyway, it looks like it’s all here.”
“I definitely have my work cut out for me this weekend,” I tell her, wondering if she has any plans this weekend. Is she coming to the game? “We have a game on Saturday, but then we are off for three days.”
“Well, if you need help, let me know,” she says. “I’m going to leave now.”
“Where are all the balloons?” I ask, trying to keep her on the phone. I notice that they aren’t there even though I left them there this morning.
“That’s another executive decision I made. I cleaned up,” she says.
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