Pucked: Pucked Over Part 13

Miller gives him a look. "How long's this s.h.i.+t with Tash been going on, anyway?"

"What're you talking about?" Lance gets real busy staring into his beer.

"Romero, come on," Miller says.

"A while."

"You better watch it. Coach finds out he's gonna be p.i.s.sed," I say, following Miller through the house.

"He won't. Tash is looking for a ride more than anything." He drains the rest of his beer. "She just wants to see what all the hype is about."

He sounds bitter, which is odd, because Lance is probably the biggest player in the league. After Miller got serious about Sunny and we'd go out, he constantly p.a.w.ned the chicks off on one of us. Lance was always good with taking on more than one. I don't like having my attention divided.

We find Lily, Tash, and Alex standing outside a door at the top of the stairs. Sunny must be in the room. Alex keeps trying the k.n.o.b, but it's clearly locked.

"What's going on?" Miller asks.

Lily turns; her gaze stops at me for a second, and her hand flutters to her throat. "Violet's not feeling well."

"I know. Sunny's been messaging me." Miller holds up his phone.

"She won't let me in," Alex looks wrecked. His tie is half-hanging off.

"I keep telling you, Waters, you're pus.h.i.+ng her too hard. She hates this kind of thing, and you let my mom and yours run with this. Now they're gonna expect something even bigger when it comes to the d.a.m.n wedding."

"She said it was okay," he snaps.

Miller scoffs. "Do you even know who you're marrying? Do you remember the first time you met her and she flashed every member of the team her bra?"

"She didn't do that on purpose."

I've only heard this story secondhand, but apparently it was epic.

Miller throws his hands up in the air. "Exactly! That's the point. Embarra.s.sing c.r.a.p happens to her all the time. She doesn't want to be humiliated. She probably thinks this is gonna be exactly like her mom's wedding."

"You mean another wardrobe malfunction?" Lily asks.

"Wardrobe malfunction? What are you talking about?" Alex asks.

I'm wondering the same thing.

Miller's eyebrows rise. "She hasn't even told you?"

"Told me what?" Alex looks somewhere between confused and angry.

Miller lets out a long breath and shakes his head. "I wish she'd d.a.m.n well learn how to talk about s.h.i.+t." Miller knocks on the door. "Vi, open up. We need to have a discussion about you not telling your fiance highly important information."

After another minute or two, Sunny finally comes out. "She says she'll talk to you." She's not looking at Alex, though, she's looking at Miller.

"You can thank me later." Miller disappears inside the room.

Waters rubs his forehead. "All we were supposed to do was thank everyone for coming."

"You sure you want to go through with this whole getting-married deal?" Lance asks. "Seems like kinda a pain in the a.s.s."

Tash rolls her eyes. "You're such a d.i.c.k, Romero."

"You seemed to like it enough earlier," he fires back.

Tash's mouth drops open.

Lily holds up a hand and snaps, "Enough, you two." She turns to Alex. "Why don't you go down and do the thank you? Unless you'd like me to do that on your behalf. Then we can start wrapping things up and get people out of here. That might help Violet be less stressed."

He taps on the door, regarding Lily for a long while. "I wanted this to be fun for her."

She rubs his shoulder. "You can't make everyone happy, Alex. I love your mom, but you gotta rein her in if you don't want Violet to fall apart between now and this wedding."

His head drops and he sighs. "f.u.c.k, I'm a p.u.s.s.y."

Lily laughs. "No, you're not. You're trying to make too many people happy at the same time. Violet has to be priority number one all the time now. Above everything else."

Eventually they manage to get Violet to come out of the bedroom, but she's covered in hives. Alex goes downstairs to deal with the guests, and the girls all huddle in the bedroom to provide moral support or whatever it is girls do when one of them has an emotional breakdown and winds up with hives.

No one seems to question Violet's absence at the party.

Lily messages me a while later to let me know she's staying with Violet. I'm not surprised considering how tight she is with the Waters family. I end up getting a ride home with Lance and Tash. It's awkward; no one really talks. Tash seems p.i.s.sed, all quiet and brooding in the front seat. Lance drops me off first, which I expect.

I walk up my drive and palm my phone, keying in the code for my door so it's unlocked by the time I reach it. This definitely wasn't how I thought tonight was going to end. I'm glad I managed a little alone time with Lily. And at least I have tomorrow.

I'm on high alert the second I walk into the house. The TV's on in the living room, and there's a body on my couch, shoes hanging off the end. Beer bottles and a half liter of vodka litter my coffee table. One of the bottles has tipped over, and beer drips onto the floor. I'm definitely not in the mood for this. The body on my couch groans and pushes to a sitting position.

It's like I've stepped into a time machine and I'm looking at a much less fit, older version of myself. Without tattoos. Randall Ballistic Senior is crashed out on my couch.

"How'd you get in here?" It's not a friendly greeting, but I don't like my dad much.

"I tried the code from your New York place. Nice pad, kiddo. They're paying you better than they did me." He's slurry drunk.

I don't mention that I'm a better player than he was. "I didn't know you were in town."

He ignores the indirect question. "You're comin' home late." He pushes up and tries to stand, but ends up falling back down on his a.s.s.

I stuff my hands in my pockets. Now I wish I'd gotten an invite to stay at Waters'. "I was at a party."

"And no bunny? You losing your touch?"

"It wasn't that kind of party."

"It's always that kind of party." He picks up a bottle from the table and checks to see if there's anything left.

I go to the kitchen to get him a gla.s.s of water and a rag to clean up the mess he's made. It's the story of my dad's life. He's a loser in every sense of the word. Returning to the living room, I mop up the spilled beer and set the water on the table.

He picks up the gla.s.s and frowns. "Where's the booze?"

"I don't think you need it." I collect the empty bottles. "Look, you're welcome to stay the night and sleep it off, but I've got plans tomorrow night, so you gotta be gone in the morning."

"I haven't seen you in six months, and that's how you treat your dad? Don't be so d.a.m.n disrespectful."

"It's one in the morning, and I find you lying on my couch, messing up my house, and you're talking at me about disrespect?"

"I need a place to crash for a couple days. I gotta lay low. Got some business I need to take care of before I head home."

"You're still in Boston?"

"I'm between places right now."

I run a hand through my hair. "So by a couple of days you mean what exactly?"

"A week, maybe two, tops."

I definitely don't want my dad here for the next week, let alone two, but he's hammered, so discussing it now is pointless. I'd set him up in a hotel, but the last time I did that he racked up a two-thousand-dollar room service bill. Half of it was p.o.r.n. It's not that I don't have the money to pay for it, it's the G.o.dd.a.m.n principle. And he's generally a d.i.c.k.

"Right. We'll talk about it in the morning. I gotta crash. I've got a workout at ten." That's a lie, but talking to my dad in this state isn't productive. It's not that useful when he's sober, either. Looks like the rest of my weekend has gone to s.h.i.+t.

Chapter 12.

Fluttery Eyed Fear LILY.

At one-thirty in the morning, I'm back in my room at Alex's huge, nice house. Alone. Violet's hives have finally subsided after a boatload of Benadryl, and everyone else has gone to bed. Probably to have awesome s.e.x. I bet even Violet and Alex are having s.e.x, though she still has a few welts on her face. I'd hate to be that stressed out over getting married.

I change into a pair of tights with a hole in the crotch and one of my T-s.h.i.+rts from high school. They still fit exactly the same since I haven't grown even a little bit since then-not anywhere. I don't have to pull down the sheets because they're already messed up from earlier.

I still can't believe I did that. Well, I can. It was part of my plan, but not quite so early in the evening. I figured it'd be later, like now. I step on something gushy and shriek. Jumping back, I discover the used condom.

"So gross," I mutter to myself. At least he had the courtesy to tie it in a knot so the j.i.z.z didn't ooze out and end up between my toes. I snap a picture of it beside my foot and send it to him with a frowny face. I don't get anything back right away, which is kind of a disappointment.

I toss my phone on the bed and rummage through my bag, looking for face wash. I do the nightly routine, still bitter that everyone is getting action now but me. I leave the light on in the bathroom and pull the door mostly closed, leaving a sliver of illumination to guide me to bed. Of course I step on the stupid condom again.

I drop down on the comforter, the empty condom wrapper crinkling under me. I roll over, find it, and toss it on the floor. Now I have that awful spermicide c.r.a.p on my hands. I should probably shower, but I don't feel like it. I mash my face into the pillows. The scent of Randy's cologne lingers. I close my eyes, tingles starting up as I think about the amazing s.e.x.

Sadly, now I know just how mediocre it was with Benji, and how average his d.i.c.k seems in comparison. I don't know if all hockey players have giant man rods, but it seems to be the case from what Sunny reports and what I accidentally saw of Alex when I was a teenager.

As I ponder the size of man's most useful appendage, my phone rings. I pick it up, and my stomach does that fluttery thing. It's Randy. Calling me. I let it ring twice more before I answer. "Thanks for the rubbery gift."

"Sorry, 'bout that. I usually clean up after myself, but the interruption made me sloppy. Next time I'll be the good Boy Scout I am."

I try to picture Randy as a Boy Scout. All I get is an image of him at twelve with a beard. "Pretty presumptuous a.s.suming there'll be a next time."

"You didn't have fun?"

"It was okay." I rub my legs together, thinking about how good okay is.

He laughs. "You're terrible for my ego. You know that, right?"

"If it's anywhere as big as your trouser anaconda, you don't need help in that area anyway."

"Nice backhanded compliment. I'll take it. How's Vi?"

"She's fine now. I think, anyway. It's hard to tell with her. Alex is worried, but then that's kind of how he is. I'm sorry you had to leave."

"Yeah, me too."

"We can still do dinner tomorrow, if you want." I let it hang like it's a question.

"Yeah, about that-"

My stomach sinks, and I get that thick feeling in my throat.

"Something's kinda come up."

"Oh. Yeah. Of course." Maybe Randy lied about my performance being a ten out of ten.

"It's family stuff. Otherwise-"

"You don't have to explain."

"I don't want you to think I'm blowing you off. My dad showed up tonight, and I wasn't expecting him."

My relief worries me. "You don't sound too happy about that. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. It'll be fine-once he's gone. He's kind of an a.s.shole, and I'm not sure how long I'm going to have to deal with him before he takes off, though."

"I'm sorry."

"It is what it is. I would much rather be taking you out."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you it would've been hard to pull off anyway? We're having some kind of retail therapy tomorrow to make Violet feel better, and that'll probably go all day."

Randy chuckles. "I'd tell you yes, but that'd be me lying. I guess we'll have to try again another time."

"Sure."