Game On

by Kelly Jamieson

  Everyone knew about the bet now. I’d been happy to tell them we were going out again.

  “It was amazing she agreed to go out with me again,” I said, without thinking. I hadn’t told anyone about the food-poisoning incident.

  Chaser looked at me. “Why? What did you do? Oh no—did you bang her? I told you not to do that.”

  “I didn’t.” I sighed. “I was too busy hugging the porcelain goddess.”

  “What?” They all gaped at me.

  I gave a weak smile. “Don’t worry, she was busy throwing up too. We both got food poisoning.”

  “Oh hell no.” Chaser frowned.

  “Yeah.” One corner of my mouth lifted. “It was pretty gross. First I puked in her bush.”

  All eyes widened in horror as they gaped at me.

  “No! No! Not like that!” I waved my hands. “I mean outside her condo building there were shrubs, and I got sick there.”

  After a stunned beat, they all burst out laughing. Chase covered his face with his hands. “Jesus Christ, Brick. Way to make a good impression.”

  “Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.” And it totally sucked, when it was someone I had to see again. Anyone else, that would have been the end of it. No way would I put myself through that.

  “You’re right, it is amazing she’s going out with you again. Wow, you have some shit to make up for too.” Chaser grinned with way too much enjoyment.

  “I know.” I clenched my teeth. “Trying to find a date that doesn’t involve food is hard.”

  “Hmm.” Chase rubbed his chin. “How about a strip club?”

  “Ha ha.”

  “No, seriously.” Then he burst out laughing.

  “It won’t happen again,” Hallsy said. “That had to be a fluke.”

  “True.”

  “Get back on the horse,” Bomber advised.

  “Yeah, we’re having dinner. Then going to a blues concert.”

  “Still no sex though,” Chaser warned me.

  I turned to him. “Remember when I asked for your advice?”

  He frowned.

  “Yeah, me neither.” I lifted a middle finger at him.

  The other guys cracked up.

  “I need sleep.” I shoved my pillow behind my head and grabbed the nice puffy blanket they had for us on the plane.

  “Here, let me tuck you in.” Chaser leaned over.

  “Fuck off.” But we both grinned.

  I reclined my seat and snuggled in for a nap as we winged our way back to Chicago.

  * * *

  —

  This date was going to be great.

  It had to be better than the last one.

  Actually, the last one had been pretty fantastic up until we both started doing the hokey croaky.

  I was dressed in a nice pair of pants, beard stubble perfect, hair artfully tousled. Olivia had agreed I could pick her up, and she was waiting in the lobby of her building when I pulled up. I got out to go meet her on the sidewalk, trying not to relive the last time I’d been here.

  She looked amazing. She wore that bright red coat again, with a big gray scarf around her neck. She had on black tights and killer black heels that showed off her amazing legs. Tonight, she had her hair pulled up into a big loopy bun.

  We met face-to-face on the sidewalk. “Hi, legs.”

  “Hi.”

  Impulsively, I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You look good too.”

  I opened the car door for her, and she slid into the front seat. Somehow, her scarf caught on something—the seatbelt?—and she got hung up halfway in.

  “Ergh.” She tugged at the scarf that was threatening to strangle her. “Shit!”

  I reached in and found where it was caught and released it, and she sank gratefully into the seat.

  “Whew.” She blew out a breath. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

  I chuckled and handed her the scarf before closing the door, then I went around to the driver’s side.

  “That was nice and graceful, huh,” she said as I started the car, trying to rearrange her scarf. “I told you how uncoordinated I am.”

  “Yes, you did. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I like your car.”

  “Thanks.” I was fond of my Mercedes-Benz. “How was your week?”

  We chatted on the way to the Lower West Side, about her organization and my road trip. The restaurant where I’d made the reservation was cool—dimly lit with candles and chandeliers, brick walls and pressed tin panel ceiling. We were shown to a long banquette, and after I’d taken Olivia’s jacket, she slid in. I hung up our jackets and sat on the chair opposite her at the small table.

  Now with her jacket off, I could see she wore a short leopard-print skirt and a black top with a loose, drapey neckline. She smiled, the lamp behind her illuminating her hair golden. “This is nice.”

  “Let’s hope so. I sure as hell don’t want to poison you again.”

  She grimaced and chuckled. “I don’t want that either.”

  A server filled glasses with water and asked if we wanted to order drinks.

  “Hmmm.” Olivia looked over the cocktail menu. “I’ll have a Red Velvet Shortcake.”

  I blinked, then ordered a beer.

  “What the hell is a Red Velvet Shortcake?” I picked up the menu to peer at it. “Sounds more like dessert.”

  “It has red velvet vodka in it. And cream soda and lemon juice. Yum. I like trying new drinks.”

  I leaned back in my chair. A cracking noise at my back startled me. What happened next seemed to go in slow motion…the room shifted, nothing behind me, and I was falling through space. It took about five minutes, I think, and the next thing I knew the hard floor smacked my back, and I was staring up at the pressed tin ceiling.

  “Oh my God!” I heard Olivia’s voice along with a whole bunch of others also exclaiming. Olivia’s face appeared over me, then our server’s. “Are you okay?”

  I didn’t even know what to say. I didn’t understand what had happened.

  “I am so sorry!” The server’s eyes were wide.

  Then a man wearing a shirt and tie joined them. “Are you okay, sir?”

  I assessed my situation. My back hurt a bit. I was used to falling on hard surfaces, but usually I was wearing a lot of protective gear. I turned my head from side to side. I could move my arms and legs. Honestly, I was more shocked than hurt. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  The guy reached out and helped me get to my feet while the server whisked the broken chair away. “I am so sorry,” he said. “Really, are you okay? Do we need to take you for medical attention?”

  “No.” I glanced around at the people staring at us. Fuck. “Really, I’m fine.”

  I straightened my clothes, still kind of dazed.

  The server brought a new chair. “I don’t know how that happened,” she said. “The chair must have been broken before you sat in it. I’m so sorry.”

  She and the dude, who I guessed was a manager, kept apologizing over and over. The manager said, “Your meal will be on us tonight, of course.”

  “Thanks.” I guessed that was fair. They probably didn’t want me to sue them. I sat again, and people went back to their own tables and dinners.

  I met Olivia’s eyes across the table. Her eyebrows were sloped downward and her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she gazed back at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” I pushed my shoulders back to stretch my spine. “Really, I’m fine. What the hell?”

  Now her lips twitched. She pressed her fingers there, eyes dancing.

  “You want to laugh, don’t you?”

 
She nodded.

  I grinned. “Go ahead.”

  She choked out a small laugh. “It is kind of funny.”

  “Sure it is. Just like me ralphing on your sidewalk was funny.” I rubbed my fingertips over my forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever made such a bad impression on a woman.” Things like this didn’t happen to me.

  Her eyes softened. “You’re not making a bad impression.”

  “Whew.”

  The server arrived with our drinks. “Here you go. Again, our apologies. Are you ready to order dinner?”

  “We need a few more minutes.”

  “Of course.”

  I picked up my menu. “Okay, for some reason I’m not feeling optimistic about the food poisoning.”

  Olivia laughed. “It’s like lightning. It won’t strike twice.” She paused. “I hope.” She perused the menu. “Chicken-fried rabbit. That’s a big nope.”

  “Agreed. Let’s also skip the oysters.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  I ended up ordering a burger, and Olivia chose an asparagus and crab salad. When the server asked me how I wanted my burger done, I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Olivia said, “Well done.”

  I laughed. “Right.”

  She gave me a cheeky grin after the server left. “I thought it was safer.”

  “Good point.” I picked up my beer and took a healthy swig. When I’d swallowed, I said, “I talked to my agent about working with you.”

  Her eyes popped wide. “Oh! Did you?”

  “Yeah. He wants me to get more info. Mostly about the time commitment. He’s a little worried about me over-committing for the rest of the season as we go into the playoffs.”

  “Oh. Of course. I’m sure you have a lot on your plate.” She sounded doubtful.

  I explained practices, meetings, endorsements, appearances, and other charity work I did. She nodded as I talked, sipping her drink. “And of course we travel a lot.”

  “Of course.” Her eyes shadowed, and she dropped her gaze to her cocktail.

  “So tell me more about what I could help with. I want to do it.”

  Her long eyelashes lifted. “Well, we’d like someone to be the face of the organization, for promotional purposes. It would be awesome if you could participate in some events, but even if you came to one school and we did a bunch of pictures, that would be great. Or if you could participate in one of our runs. There’s the St. Patrick’s Day run coming up, and we do fun runs twice a year, for all our participants. But that’s not until later in the spring.”

  “When we get into the playoffs I probably won’t be able to. Assuming we make the playoffs.” Although at this point, we were definitely on track to do that.

  “I understand.”

  “But the St. Patrick’s Day one…I might be able to do that.”

  “It’s a one-mile run. We do it in Washington Park.”

  “One mile? That’s it?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled.

  “Phht. I can do that, unless we’re out of town.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ll check the schedule. And once the season is done, my time is wide open. The finals end in early June, if we make it that far.”

  Her eyes widened hopefully. “Our biggest run is in June.”

  “I should be able to do that.”

  She gave me the dates of the runs and I noted them. “What about the visits to schools? What are we talking in terms of time?”

  “Well, it could be anything. We have programs going on at a lot of schools. I think it would be cool for you to come to one of the middle schools. Our programs there help kids learn to be active, but also to learn leadership and team building. They train three days a week after school. It would be awesome if you came even for an hour one day.”

  “That doesn’t really sound like a lot. I’m sure Ken will be on board with it.”

  She nodded eagerly. “And you’d be all right with us publicizing it? We could invite some of the media.”

  “Of course.” Ken hadn’t raised any issues with the image of the organization. This would be win-win—positive publicity for me, and it might help Move On Chicago. Plus I’d get to see Olivia again. And, honestly, I liked kids, so it might even be fun.

  “Awesome!” She leaned forward excitedly. “That would be fantastic!”

  In her enthusiasm, she gestured with both hands, knocking her water glass. It wobbled, and I started to lunge to grab it, but too late—it tipped over, toward me, the entire glass of ice cold water pouring across the tabletop and into my lap.

  Chapter 8

  Cam

  “Oh no!” Olivia leaped up, jostling the table, making our other drinks sway.

  “Jesus Christ. Just sit.” I shoved my chair back and looked down at my lap. The ice water was a rude shock to Richard and the twins as they shriveled. My breath left my lungs sharply.

  A few small pieces of ice rested on the wooden chair seat, and I flicked them onto the floor. Meanwhile, the water soaked through my pants and boxer briefs.

  I sucked in air and looked up at Olivia, who was horror struck—mouth open, eyes wide, face pale. “It’s okay.” I’d kinda snapped when she’d nearly upended the entire table.

  She reached out and righted the empty glass, her bottom lip quivering. “I’m so sorry.”

  It wasn’t often I was at a loss for words.

  She handed me her napkin, and I laid it over my lap, using my own to dry off the chair.

  If we hadn’t already ordered, I would have called it quits. I didn’t know what the rest of the evening held in store for me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again in a small voice. “I feel terrible.”

  “It’s just water.” This was true. So it was a weenie-shrinker…it would dry, and the guys would come back to life. “It’s okay. Really.”

  “You’re being so nice about it.” Her voice trembled. “Maybe we should go.”

  “Hell no.” Even though I’d already considered that option, I wasn’t going to throw in the towel—heh. “I’m starving, and I’ve got a burger coming.”

  She pressed her hand to her mouth, and I was afraid she was going to cry.

  “I’m going to the men’s room.” I stood holding the napkin strategically. “Maybe they have a hand dryer.”

  “Good idea.” She sucked on her bottom lip.

  I strode down the hall, a sign pointing the way. This wasn’t my night for luck though, since the bathroom had baskets of hand towels. Ah well. I used one to try to blot dry my pants. As I was doing so, a guy walked in. He stopped, seeing me rubbing my groin.

  Ah, for fuck’s sake.

  I gave him a smile. “Small accident with a glass of water.”

  “Uh-huh.” He edged past me toward the urinals.

  Well, I’d done what I could. I headed back to our table.

  Olivia’s gaze dropped to my crotch as I approached. Normally, I would have appreciated this, which for some reason struck me as hilarious. I started laughing and sat again, making sure the chair was dry first. The floor appeared to have been mopped up also.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “This whole thing.”

  She met my eyes, her lips lifted at the corners. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor about it. You have a big wet spot.”

  “I know. Hopefully it will dry before we go in for the concert.”

  “I can’t believe I did that.” Her face tightened up. “I wouldn’t blame you if you want to leave. And never see me again.”

  I reached across the table, carefully avoiding the other glasses, and clasped her hand. “It’s been a weird evening, that’s for sure. But I’m fine.”

&nbs
p; She leaned her elbow on the table and lowered her head into her hand. “I think it’s karma.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind.” She lifted her head. “Well. Let’s talk about something harmless. Like politics. Or abortion.”

  I snort-laughed. “Right.”

  Our food arrived, and we dug in. I sat with my legs spread wide to allow maximum air exposure so as to dry the jewels. We talked more, the tension gradually easing, and we both relaxed again, enjoying each other’s company and the food.

  Then we moved into the hall for the music.

  “Are your pants dry?” Olivia asked me as we walked out of the restaurant.

  “Why don’t you check?” I smirked. “Maybe you should feel them.”

  She laughed and leaned her shoulder into me. “Perv. Even if they’re not dry, probably no one will notice.”

  “Are you kidding me? Women are always looking at my crotch.”

  She groaned. “Oh my God.”

  “Hey, I’m just honest. You might think I’m inappropriate. I prefer to think of it as extreme honesty.”

  She laughed again. I fucking loved making her laugh.

  I’d never been to this place before, but Olivia had. “It’s cool,” I commented, taking in the big arched windows, the peeling paint on the walls, and the illuminated stage. We found our seats just in time for the concert to start.

  Leo Jaffey and Jimmy Jones sat at the front of the stage accompanied by a couple of other guitar players and a guy on drums. Jimmy played the harmonica while Leo strummed his electric guitar and sung into the mic.

  I loved watching Olivia enjoy the music, moving her shoulders and head to the bluesy rhythm. The next song was slower, and she watched raptly. I kept glancing at her perfect profile, and at one point she turned to me and our eyes met. And held. I reached for her hand and laced my fingers through hers.

  During the intermission, she leaned closer and said, “How do you feel?”

  “Good. Why?”

  “Just checking. No upset stomach?”

  I laughed. “Nope. You?”