by Rebel Hart
He gave me a pathetic look. “You’re sure you don’t want to do a good deed and introduce me? I’m a big hockey fan. All I want is for him to sign my Blackhawks jersey.”
I stepped out of the car. “Sorry. Not going to happen.” I closed my door and met Eugene and Jade on the sidewalk. The three of us turned to the club.
Club was actually a strong word. Dickie’s was the only place in Long Grove with good music, a dance floor, and hours that didn’t end at eleven o’clock. It stayed open until one in the morning on average, but if the dance floor was packed and people were having a good time they’d stay open. I had a feeling tonight was going to be one of those nights as my best friends and I looped arms and set off up the front stairs, crossed the outdoor patio, and strode inside.
The security guard, Dale Bronway, was a guy we’d all gone to high school with. He was actually a year younger than us but built like a tree, and he waved us through and wished us a good time before slapping his serious bouncer face back on.
I doubted he’d ever had to get physical with anyone in this place. Dickie’s was a good time. Long Grove was a relaxed place. There was never trouble here and if there was it was sorted out before someone like Dale ever had to get involved.
As soon as we’d made it ten feet inside, people were calling our names and hollering for us to meet them at the bar.
Everybody knew everybody in a place like Long Grove. It was the usual crowd out at Dickie’s tonight looking for a good time. The winter months were approaching and the night life always took a hit when the snow and cold encroached upon the town. People wanted to get their fill before it became less appealing to head out for a night of dancing.
I had two shots in my belly within five minutes. I felt the pleasant tingle of alcohol and ordered two more rounds from the bartender in hopes the liquor would ease the stiffness and the pain in my knee.
It worked.
The pain began to ebb away by the time Jade took my hand and pulled me out onto the dance floor with her and Eugene, who was doing a marvelous job of showing up all the other men in the bar. That was nothing new. He pulled me into him, spun me around, and laughed unabashedly with me as he dipped me low and then straightened me up again. He proceeded to do the same with Jade, who moved like a graceful gazelle on the floor with him.
Others joined us and soon the whole bar was moving as one to the music. More drinks were being poured by the minute, some straight into open mouths of people leaning backwards over the bar. The music got louder, the bodies sweatier, and the night older.
It was the perfect distraction from the man who I imagined was still sitting in my parents’ living room, or going to bed in the room next to mine.
6
William
Keith rubbed at his eyes and slid further down on the sofa. He was at least a six pack of beer into the night on top of the three or four glasses of wine he’d had earlier in the evening. His cheeks were red, and so was his nose, and he was starting to get a little sluggish.
“We can call it a night, man,” I said. “You’re looking pretty beat. And I’m not going to lie. That bed up there is sounding pretty appealing right now.”
I’d only had a few hours of sleep last night before getting up early to move out of my rental condo in downtown Vancouver, where I’d spent nearly a whole year on the bench hardly getting any ice time. Then I’d hopped on a plane, flown out to Chicago, and come straight to the Renwicks’.
Yes. Bed sounded very appealing.
Keith nodded. “Yeah. I think you’re right. I’m going to have to crash on the sofa tonight.”
“You sure as shit are.”
Keith chuckled. Then he started patting down his pockets in search of his phone, which had started vibrating.
But it wasn’t in his pocket.
It was sitting next to him on the sofa.
“Dude.” I nodded at it as the screen lit up with a picture of Kimberly.
Keith picked it up with an embarrassed chuckle, answered the call, and held the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he slid farther down the sofa. “Hey, Kimwick,” he snickered and waggled his eyebrows at me. “What’s up?”
She said something I couldn’t hear.
Keith frowned. “Jade? What is it? Is Kim all right?” He sat up straight. So did I. Then he massaged his temple. “I can’t hear you. Can you step outside? The music is too loud.” He caught my concerned expression and put the phone on speaker before setting it down on the coffee table.
The music from Dickie’s filled the speaker. I could hear Jade mumbling at people to get out of her way. Then it got quiet and I assumed she’d made it outside and she started talking.
“Sorry to call you like this, Keith. She’s all right. But I think Kim hurt her knee at her practice tonight. I didn’t notice it at first, but she’s definitely favoring it and I think it’s swelling. Shit. I had too many drinks.”
“Where is she right now?” Keith asked.
“On the dance floor with Eugene. He’s trying to talk some sense into her but she isn’t having it. One too many tequilas if you know what I mean.”
“Put me on the phone with her.”
Jade sighed. “I think someone needs to come pick her up, Keith. She won’t listen to anyone but you when she gets like this.”
“All right. I’m on my way. Try to get her to drink some water.”
Jade snorted. “Yeah. That’ll be a piece of cake. This is your sister we’re talking about. She’s not going to hydrate when she’s having this much fun. And she doesn’t know she’s hurting herself.”
“Just keep an eye on her. I’ll be there in fifteen.” Keith hung up the phone, stood up, swayed on the spot, and promptly fell back into his seat. He groaned. “Shit. Too many beers.”
“Give me your keys,” I said.
He blinked slowly at me.
“I’ll go get her,” I said.
“Nah, man. I should go. Jade is right. You know how Kim can be. She’s stubborn as hell. She isn’t going to listen to you—”
“You’re not driving.”
Keith frowned. “You’re overreacting.”
I stood up and held out my hand expectantly. “Keys. Now.”
Putting on a good show of being offended, Keith threw his keys at me. I caught them and dropped them in my pocket. “You sleep it off. I’ll get Kim and bring her home. Don’t worry. I can handle her.”
Keith chuckled. “Uh-huh. Sure you can.”
I went to the front door and grabbed my jacket. I patted it down to make sure I had my own set of keys with me. I didn’t plan on taking Keith’s old Ford pickup to Dickie’s. My rental Porsche was in the drive and I was going to take advantage of every chance I had to burn a little rubber.
I left Keith on the sofa. His eyes were closed and his chin had hit his chest by the time I slipped out the front door and locked up behind me. I strode to the midnight blue Porsche, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled out quietly. I didn’t want to disturb any neighbors.
As soon as I hit the main streets of Long Grove, I opened up the throttle and tore down the street to Dickie’s. The neon orange light filled up my windshield as I approached and I parked right under the sign.
I drew the attention of smokers out on the patio as I moved up the steps and through the front door. They bowed their heads together and whispered, no doubt trying to pinpoint where they recognized me from. The big cities were harder to slip past people unnoticed. In smaller places like Long Grove, it was easier. It felt a little removed from everything; I felt removed from everything. It was a welcome reprieve from being stopped every second street block to take pictures with strangers or sign T-shirts, sneakers, pictures of myself, or on the rare occasion, cleavage.
The latter wasn’t too shabby.
Dickie’s was exactly as I remembered inside. The booths along the walls still boasted their brown leather seats. Standing tables with electric tea lights in Mason jars still surrounded the dance floor, which was jus
t a clear hardwood floor with a set of old stage lights mounted in the rafters up above. It reminded me of something out of the original Footloose film. It smelled like nostalgia: tequila, french fries, and general human musk.
“Smells like teen spirit,” I muttered as I cast my gaze around the bar.
It didn’t take me long to spot her.
Kim was in the middle of the dance floor. Right where she belonged. She had her hands over her head as she danced. Her hips rocked from side to side as she gripped a beer bottle in one hand with a lime wedged in the neck. Foam spewed out the top of the bottle and she ran her tongue up her forearm to her wrist, licking up the spillage.
My groin strained at the sight and I resisted the urge to tug at the front of my jeans.
She turned her back to me as she danced and I pushed through the crowd to tap her on the shoulder.
She spun, smiling, and pitched forward. Her beer fell out of her hand and sloshed out of the bottle down the front of my shirt. The bottle hit the ground and rolled away from our feet while I caught her by her shoulders and steadied her.
Kim blinked drunkenly up at me. Her smile faded and her brow creased. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to take you home.”
She prodded me in the chest. “Pfft. I’m not going home.”
Wow. She was drunk. Very drunk.
So drunk she seemed oblivious to the purple swelling happening around her left knee.
“Shit,” I breathed.
Her friends materialized out of the crowd. The blond guy—the figure skater—appeared first. His right ear was full of sparkly little earrings and his left had two silver hoops through the earlobe. He gave me what I took as an apologetic smile before gripping Kim by the upper arm and speaking to her.
“Kim. The big strong hockey player is going to take you home now, okay?”
Kim scowled at her friend and tried to pull her arm out of his grip. “Let go of me, Eugene. I’m not going anywhere. We came out to dance. So that’s what I’m going to do.” She promptly threw her arms back up in the air and let out a victorious party cry that turned heads on the dance floor. Some people cheered with her. Someone called for another round of shots. Kim lit up. “Hell yes! I need more tequila.”
Jade, all five feet nine inches of her, appeared on Kim’s other side, shaking her head. “No, Kim. No more shots. Look at your knee, girl! Doesn’t it hurt?”
Kim looked down at her knee like it was the first time she was seeing it. Then she shrugged. “Yes. But it always hurts. Fucking knee. Fucking surgeries. You know what the worst part is?”
Nobody answered her. Nobody wanted to know.
She told us anyway. “The worst part is that even when you manage to steal a couple hours to forget how much of a mess you are, people have this uncanny knack of reminding you.”
Eugene looked imploringly at me for help.
I was out of my depth. It had been a long time since I’d needed to talk reason into someone. Usually it was the other way around. And on the rare occasion where someone needed talking down, it was someone who was my size and on my team who I could usually rough house out of the bar or club and into the back of a cab.
I couldn’t do that with Kim.
So I tried a different strategy. “Kimwick. Go get your shot. Then we’re going home.”
She took a step toward me and glared defiantly up at me, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Don’t call me Kimwick.”
My attention was drawn to her knee once more. It was going to give her hell in the morning. One more shot would probably keep her at this threshold where she couldn’t feel any pain. She’d get a good night sleep at the very least.
“Come on. Your knee is busted. It’s not smart to stay on it. Especially if you can’t feel it. We’ll elevate your leg and get you some ice. What do you say?”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “You’re not my father.”
Jade winced. “Sorry, William.”
She had nothing to be sorry for. Kim was pissed. Not at me, but at her knee. It was entirely out of her control. I’d seen this kind of thing plenty of times before. It hurt to see. There was pain behind this bravado and we all knew it.
She could be mad at me all she wanted. This was for her own good.
I leaned forward and got in close to her face. As I did, I was aware of the attention I was drawing to us. People in the bar were beginning to recognize me. My name was being passed across lips. People were pointing. Soon there would be questions and calls for pictures. I wanted to be out of here before that happened, but I might be able to use it to my advantage, too.
Almost nose to nose with Kim, I smiled. “If you don’t leave with me right now I’m going to tell all these people I’m madly in love with you and they’re going to want to ask you a thousand questions and take your picture.”
“You wouldn’t,” she breathed. Her eyes widened a little as she looked around, realizing what I already knew: the crowd knew there was an NHL athlete in their midst.
The smile never left my face. “Try me.”
Eugene looked confident that my strategy was going to pay off. He looked back and forth between me and Kim, whose shoulders had slumped forward as the fire went out of her. She stared at the floor and finally surrendered. “Fine.”
As if on cue, the server arrived with a tray loaded with tequila shots. Kim took hers from the tray and so did Eugene and Jade. The three of them toasted, and Jade and I locked eyes. As she set the empty shot back on the tray, she mouthed a silent thank you to me. I nodded in return and then held out a hand to offer Kim some support. “Let’s get out of here.”
She ignored my hand and slipped past me. She wobbled on her heels. It astounded me that she could walk in them with such a bad knee.
“See you guys around,” I said to Jade and Eugene before I followed Keith’s little sister to the front doors.
“I hope so!” Eugene hollered after us.
7
Kimberly
In the parking lot I wasn’t surprised when William walked us toward a midnight blue Porsche parked under Dickie’s neon sign. The paint glittered under the orange glow as he opened the passenger door for me. I slid into the leather seat and sighed.
“Of course he drives a Porsche.”
William leaned over and peered in at me. “Sorry?”
I reached for the door to pull it closed. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
He shrugged and let the door close. Then he walked around the hood and got behind the wheel. The engine purred. My seat vibrated. The tequila sang in my bloodstream and the stereo roared in my ears. William had always listened to his music loud.
He pulled out of the lot. Cars and street lights blew by in blurs of white and green and red brake lights.
I closed my eyes and rubbed warily along the back and sides of my neck.
William turned down the stereo. “You feeling okay?”
I groaned and rolled his window down. Cool evening air blew through my hair and kissed my cheeks. I smiled into the wind and breathed in the smell of soil and grass and asphalt. September in Long Grove was my favorite season. The leaves had already begun changing colors. Soon everything would be painted in rich reds and coppers, and then the colors would give way into a bleached-out winter. Until then I held on to the wonders of autumn.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just a couple shots too many.”
William nodded knowingly. He didn’t say anything for a couple minutes and I enjoyed the quiet. It had been a long time since I’d sat in the passenger seat of his car. His senior year of high school, possibly. No. That couldn’t be the case.
He’d driven me home from a house party the summer when he last visited. I was barely legal drinking age. Some of my other friends were still under the legal limit so we’d had a house party and things got a little rowdy. Not rough, just loud. Keith was supposed to pick me up but William had a rental car that was way nicer than Keith’s truck, so William drove. I’d been nauseous and it
was a two-door car, so William insisted I sit in the front in case he had to pull over and I had to throw up.
Which I did. Three times.
Apparently I had a bad habit of having a couple drinks too many whenever William was in town. What was it about him that set my teeth on edge? Why did he make me feel like I needed to run for the hills?
“You want to grab some grub on the way home?” William asked.
I rolled my head to the side to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the road. He had one hand resting on the steering wheel. I couldn’t help but notice the veins on the inside of his forearm and the back of his hand, his flexed tendons as he gripped the steering wheel. The watch sitting slightly loose around his wrist.
I swallowed. Damn this tequila. “No. I’m not hungry.”
“Bullshit. You’re hammered. Of course you’re hungry.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
My stomach growled. I glared at it. “Traitorous bitch.”
William threw his head back and laughed. The sound of it was dangerously sexy. So sexy that my ass cheeks clenched of their own volition to ward off the gathering lust between my thighs.
What’s happening to me?
He glanced at me, a smile still playing on his lips. “Do you still love chocolate milkshakes when you’re drunk?”
I gnawed the inside of my cheek. “Maybe.”
“Milkshakes it is.”
Neither of us said another word over the course of the five minutes it took for him to get us to the only fast food restaurant in Long Grove with a twenty-four hour drive thru. He ordered for us and I was surprised he remembered how I liked mine: medium chocolate shake with no whipped cream and extra chocolate drizzle on top.
Once he paid and the two milkshakes sat in the cup holders, he pulled into a spot facing the main street through town, put the car in park, and took his seatbelt off. I watched him take his milkshake out of the cup holder and purse his lips around the straw. He sucked and his cheeks puckered, making his cheekbones look even higher.
