by A. J. Wynter
“What was that?” Amber looked at me quizzically.
“I know what they’re all about. And I don’t want any part of it.”
Amber finished her steak and set her napkin on the table. “You’re a little young to be so jaded.”
“I just hate it. I hate the way they treat the women that live here.” My cheeks were getting red, and it wasn’t from the wine.
“But sweetie…” Amber rested her hand on my arm. “Can you blame them? The girls in here, they’re all very attractive, but you, you’re…” She seemed to be searching for words. “You could be walking runways with wings on your back. I mean, this has to happen to you all the time.”
“It does happen to me all the time,” I sighed. “These guys, they’re all the same. They don’t see… me.” I pressed my hand to my chest and glanced over my shoulder. The popped collar duo’s eyes were already trained on another table of women. “And something tells me they’ll get over it.”
Amber looked like she wanted to say something more but decided against it. I was glad she let it drop. I finished my wine as the band started their first set.
Paige cleared our table. “Dessert?” she asked. “Coffee?”
“Just the check,” Amber said. “And one is fine.”
As Paige hurried away, Amber looked at me. “Dinner is on me tonight.” She smiled. “Your mom gave me a raise for landing the Fitzgerald project.”
I swirled the last bit of wine in my glass before finishing it off. The warmth of the Pinot Grigio tingled through my body right to my fingertips. “Thank you.” I smiled. “Speaking of the Fitzgerald project, we should get those samples delivered.”
“Right.” Amber’s eyes widened as though she had forgotten. She checked her watch. “I hope it’s not too late.”
The headlights from Amber’s car shone down the creepy cottage road; the spaces between the trees pitch black, as though anything could be hiding in the shadows. The tree canopy thinned every few turns and the light from the moon shone brightly but didn’t penetrate the shadows, making them seem even darker. Amber navigated the road like she had built it herself. Pine Hill Estate was the last cottage on the road, and as we approached, we started to see cars parked along both sides of the road.
“What the hell?” Amber peered over the steering wheel. “What’s going on here?”
Even with the windows rolled up, I could hear the music, and it got exponentially louder the closer we got to the main cottage. Pine Hill was lit up like a Christmas tree. Every light was on in the main cottage, and there were silhouettes of people in almost every window. Amber shut off the engine and the sound of partiers whooping and screaming almost drowned out the rock music that was blaring.
“It looks like Fitzy’s home.” I shook my head. I couldn’t believe it. My first night back in Laketown and I was about to crash a hockey party.
“Fitzy?” Amber didn’t make a move to get out of the car. “Kent?”
I laughed. “I’m sure Kent Fitzgerald had some parties in his day and was probably called Fitzy too, but no, this party has got Kane Fitzgerald, his son, written all over it.”
“I didn’t realize his kid was here this weekend. I thought no one was expected to be here until Sunday. I’m supposed to leave the samples in the Bunkie for the estate manager.” She pulled a set of keys on a pine tree keychain from her purse.
I sighed, scanning the line of cars, breathing a sigh of relief when I didn’t see Leo’s piece of shit truck. Kane Fitzgerald played for the New York Thunder, and sometimes the Otters got invited to the big league parties. If Leo—the life of the party—Lion was here, he would be parked front and center. “It looks like you’re about to meet some hockey royalty, Amber.”
“Not if I can help it.” Amber grabbed the fabric samples. “Come on, let’s drop these off and get out of here as fast as we can.”
“I won’t argue with that.” I followed her down the flagstone pathway, trying to keep my one too many glasses of wine legs working properly. Luckily, Pine Hill’s pathways were lit with solar-powered lights and we were able to make our way to the Bunkie without detection.
On our way back to the car, the moon arced from behind the trees, its reflection casting a brilliant streak across the dark water of Lake Casper and illuminating the shadows of people on the boathouse roof. “How many people do you think are here?” Amber whispered.
“I’d say at least a team’s worth plus triple the number of puck bunnies.”
“Bunnies.” Amber shook her head. “Before I moved to Laketown a bunny was either Easter or Playboy.”
“These are closer to the latter.” I giggled at my drunken wittiness.
As if on cue, three blond women appeared on the path. I wasn’t sure if they were tipsy like me (likely), or if it was because of their inappropriate footwear, but they teetered and held onto each other as they headed toward us.
Amber and I deked around the trio. “Oh my.” Amber shook her head. “I feel ancient.”
I thought that I recognized one of the women, and while she had been only a year or two behind me in high school, this scene—this party—it all seemed so far in my rear-view mirror that I felt like an old lady too.
I heard their feet slapping on the stones before I saw them. Three guys were running full speed toward us. I knew that they were naked before they got close enough to confirm it, and I pulled Amber to the side of the pathway. Watching her expression dawn with realization that they were buck naked made my night. Her perennially tanned face blanched. “They’re… Oh my gosh...” She grabbed my arm and turned her face away. The shock of three shameless hockey players, their manhood on full display, sprinting directly at her, simultaneously brought out Amber’s inner prude and activated her klutz mode. As she tried to spin away from the rather impressive display heading towards us, the whirling action caught my inebriated self off guard. I felt the heel of my shoe slip off the edge of the pathway and I was powerless to stop the fall.
Luckily, there was a cedar hedge to cushion our tumble, albeit in a very prickly and scratchy way. Somehow in the fall, my shoe had fallen off.
“Oof.” I wanted to rub my elbow, but Amber still held my forearm in a death grip. “Are you okay?” I groaned.
A giggle came from the darkness and I could feel Amber’s hand shaking as she held onto my arm. “They. Were. Naked.”
“As the day they were born,” I laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet.”
“I’m the coach’s girlfriend,” she said through her laughter. “They’re on their best behavior when I’m around. They call me ma’am for God’s sake.”
“Right.” I pried her fingers from my arm. “Well, now you’ve seen some players in their natural habitat and in their natural state.”
“It’s hard to believe that those are professional athletes.” Amber winced as she sat up.
“I’ve been to plenty of hockey parties. The National guys are slightly more mature. The nudity? That’s more of an Otter thing.” I rubbed my elbow with my newly freed hand.
“Are you okay?” Amber asked.
“I think so. The pinot grigio kept me loose.” I swung my legs from the cedar hedge and helped Amber up. She groaned as I hoisted her to her feet.
“Should we tell Kent about his son’s party?” She brushed pine needles off the front of her sweater, and I plucked a branch from her hair.
“These parties have been happening for years. Kent knows. He doesn’t need the interior designer ratting his son out.” I laughed. “Now, where is my shoe?”
In the distance, we could hear splashing in the water. The naked men had reached their destination. If there were Otters were at this party, I wanted to get the hell out of there before I ran into Leo. I found it hard to believe that he’d pass up the opportunity to party like old times with his buddy Kane. I patted the ground in the shadows, but the only thing that I felt was the cold moss. “Shit,” I muttered. “Amber, I can’t find my shoe.”
“What do
es it look like?” she asked.
I stepped over the hedge and shoved my remaining shoe into the beam of light. “This.” I pointed to my foot, realizing that the bare one was covered in scratches.
“It’s got to be here.” Amber disappeared, searching in the darkness for my shoe.
A group of people was approaching us. From their stature and the baritone of their voices, it was a group of men. The light from the cottage shone behind them, and there was no mistaking the silhouette of the tallest guy–the one with the golden hockey hair lit up like a goddamn halo.
“Come on, Amber. It’s just a shoe,” I hissed into the darkness.
“It’s got to be here,” she replied, but I couldn’t see her.
“No. Amber, forget about it. I’ve got another pair at home.” That was a lie, they were leather shoes I’d bought on a high school trip to Italy. I loved them, but I’d sacrifice a favorite shoe to avoid eye contact with Leo the Lion.
But Amber didn’t appear, and the group was closing in. I had a choice to make: stand my ground and face Leo or hurdle the hedge and cower in the darkness.
Four
Leo
The tower of speakers on Fitzy’s front deck shook the windows of the cottage. Or to be more specific, the windows of the ‘great room’, in Kane’s cottage. In my head I always said Great Room with an English accent. It seemed like such a pretentious name for what was basically a living room without a tv or reclinable chairs.
With a foamy beer in a plastic cup, Kane and I watched as Mike Ryan ordered the rookies to race to the lake. Naked, of course. The naked asses of my teammates glowed in the dark as they disappeared down the steps, pushing each other and bouncing off the railing, jostling while they tried to sprint. There was no prize for winning these challenges, but the competition was always fierce. “Should we make sure the rookies don’t drown?” Kane gestured to the lake with his thumb.
“Probably a good idea,” Mike laughed. “If they make it there in one piece.”
Mike, Kane, and I topped up our beers from the keg. “You coming Gunnar?” I asked.
Gunnar raised his glass of sparkling water. “I’ll meet you guys down there.”
I rolled my eyes at the guys. ‘I’ll meet you there’ was Gunnar’s standard response and what he truly meant was, ‘I’m leaving’. “Alright, Lockwood.” Gunnar had been on the team for almost six months and still hadn’t been given a nickname, so his last name would have to do until he did something cool or dumb or remotely interesting enough to merit a nickname.
On the way to the lake, Mike called dibs on one of the puck bunnies. “The tall one, with the nice tits,” he clarified.
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” His description covered at least seventy-five percent of the women at the party.
He laughed. “The one I haven’t banged yet.”
Kane slapped him on the back. “Well, that clears things up.”
The former assistant captain of the Otters, Kane had been more focused on hockey than the puck bunnies, and the last year he’d played with us, that dedication had been split between hockey and his figure skater girlfriend, Jessie Moss.
Mike elbowed me. “You can have the brunette.”
As if on cue, a trio of women merged onto the pathway in front of us, weaving and giggling with Bear Claw Sodas clutched in hand. When I was younger, the sight would’ve given me an instant hard-on, but slurry, sloppy drunk women didn’t have the same allure they once did. I’m no angel, but lately, all the women seemed the same to me. Something had happened to me that I didn’t expect – I was bored. And even though the girls tried to act casual, in Laketown, being an Otter’s girlfriend was akin to marrying into the Royal Family.
“Thanks for the sloppy seconds, buddy.” I punched Mike in the shoulder.
The girls were giggling as they passed us and I’m pretty sure I heard the words anteater and cucumber whispered. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were talking about – the rookies had given them a full-frontal show just seconds earlier.
The silhouette of a woman appeared on the pathway, seemingly out of nowhere. “Where did she come from?” The solar lights lit her up from beneath, and it was very evident that she was small and curvy in all the right places.
Picking up the pace, Mike whispered. “More important than that, who is she?”
My interest was piqued, not because of the coke bottle figure, but because the woman seemed batshit crazy – gesturing and talking to herself.
The mystery woman turned, and when she did, Mike and I stopped abruptly as though someone had spilled superglue on the path. Kane turned. “Do you know her?”
“Yeah.” It was confusing—like when I was a kid and I’d see my teachers in the grocery store, out of their natural habitat. I whispered, “It’s Amber. Coach’s girlfriend.”
“Covington?” Kane’s forehead knitted.
I nodded.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Mike was a few beers in, and probably thought he was whispering.
Amber stepped toward us and replied, “I’m Mr. Fitzgerald’s designer. I was just dropping off some samples for him to check out.”
Kane extended his hand, while Mike and I stood gaping at our coach’s girlfriend.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Kane Fitzgerald – Kent’s son.”
Amber shook Kane’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, Kane. I’m Amber Burrows.”
I rolled her last name around in my head, realizing that since she had shown up on the scene she had only been known as Coach’s girlfriend. I wasn’t even sure that I knew her first name.
“I’m sure that you know Leo Rocci and Mike Ryan.”
Kane gestured to us. I had seen Amber at all of the team functions but had never spoken to her directly, and I’m pretty sure Mike hadn’t either. We nodded like idiots. Amber’s smile wavered slightly and then she held out her hand to Mike. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”
And just like that, the Coach’s girlfriend was going to be able to put a name to our faces.
“I should…” She pointed past us. “Get going?” It sounded like a question. That’s when I saw that her eyes darted to the bushes beside us. I thought that I noticed a tremble in her hand when I shook it. Why was she acting so weird?
“We should check on the rookies.” Kane followed Amber’s lead, both sides mutually releasing each other from the awkward exchange.
As we walked away, Mike whispered, “Anyone else find that weird?”
“Yep.” I nodded and tripped on something. I managed not to fall, but my beer wasn’t so lucky.
Mike and Kane were doubled over laughing. “I remember my first beer too,” Mike said.
“Your path is going to kill someone.” I turned and pointed to the perfectly flat flagstone, looking to identify what had tripped me. It was hard to see, but there was something at the edge of the path. “It’s a…” I walked slowly towards the lump that was now half off the path, hoping that it wasn’t a dead animal. “… shoe.” I breathed a sigh of relief and picked up the leather loafer. “I thought it was a dead rabbit.”
“Might as well be,” Kane laughed.
I took a closer look at the shoe and my breath caught in my throat. It was well worn, the footbed molded in the exact shape of its owner’s rather large feet.
I shoved the shoe into the front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt.
“Gross, dude. Are you going to keep that thing?” Mike asked. Loud splashes and squeals interrupted our conversation. “We should get down there. Bring your pet shoe, Leo. Maybe you’ll find Cinderella down at the dock.”
I sure hoped not.
I knew exactly whose foot that shoe belonged to, and the last time Cinderella and I spoke, she said she never wanted to see me ever again. And that’s the nice version.
The shoe felt both like a cold weight and a warm familiar keepsake. I wanted to throw it in the bush, and I squeezed the Italian loafer tightly
in my fist, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew how much it meant to her, and how much she once meant to me.
Five
Faith
It was an uncomfortable hobble to the car. We were both a little banged up from our fall over the bush, and my bare foot hurt a little bit more than the rest of me.
I tugged on the door handle, but Amber hadn’t unlocked the car yet. She leaned her elbows on the hood of the car and focused on me. “What the hell was that all about?”
“What?” I tugged on the handle again. “Can you unlock the car?”
She shook her head. “Not until you tell me why you were hiding in the bushes like one of those three young men were a serial killer.”
Voices echoed from the lake and I could hear some people approaching the circular driveway. “Unlock the car and I’ll tell you all about it.”
The lights flashed, and the car’s security system beeped. I pulled open the door and slid into the passenger seat.
Amber opened the door, but before she got in, someone yelled her name.
I shrunk down in the seat, hoping that it was anyone but Leo. I relaxed when the voice was lower than Leo’s — a buttery baritone versus Lion’s tenor.
“Is everything okay?” Mr. Honey Butter's voice asked. I could see the bottom two-thirds of the mystery man’s body, and my heart surprised me with a little skip in its beat. If the top of his body matched what I could see, the guy had to be exquisite. It was like a Grecian statue was standing at the side of the car but wearing clothes. His wide shoulders stretched his blue t-shirt just enough to reveal perfect pecs and equally perfect round biceps.
I tried to contort my body to see the rest of him, but Amber had paused in between the door and the car blocking my view. “Fine.” I heard her reply a little nervously. “Oh, Gunnar. Is that you?”
