by Tijan
From: Cheychey
To: Koala Boy
Subject: Dude
From: Koala Boy
To: Cheychey
Subject: DUDE
From: Cheychey
To: Koala Boy
Subject: DUDE OF THE DUDEST! I love you.
From: Koala Boy
To: Cheychey
Subject: DUUUUUUUUUUUUDE
15
Cut
Two away games later, I was pulling up to the house when I heard the music blaring from inside.
Chad was having a party.
The music wasn’t my first clue.
The thirty vehicles parked in the driveway and down the road had been. We had bought two lots, joined the houses together so I was able to pull into my garage. Chad’s was full, but the grand doors opened onto my side of the house, and I was tempted to sneak in through the back, go up those stairs and slip into my room. I could lock that shit down, and I was now thinking of a whole new design plan to turn my second floor into an apartment, with doors that could come down to close out the stairs. That’d be convenient right about now.
I didn’t, because Chad knew I was coming home, and he knew I’d been avoiding him since Thursday night.
A few women were hanging out on the front porch when I parked, heading over.
“Cut! Hi.”
“Hey, Cut. Sorry about your loss.”
I grunted. “Yeah.”
I was normally polite, but standoffish. These women, though…Chad had partied with before.
I nodded a hello, and kept moving around them.
They wanted me to stop. And I wanted to go to bed with Cheyenne. We all didn’t get what we wanted.
Thankfully, it wasn’t as packed as much as I thought it was going to be when I went inside.
A few guys in the foyer.
More in the living room.
I dipped into the kitchen, grabbing water, a few sports drinks, and food. There was a whole gathering in there, and Chad saw me. He was at the sink, his arm around a woman who wasn’t the Not-Russian he’d been spending time with. He straightened, his arm falling from her, and he called out, “Hey, buddy! Great game last night.”
We won the first game, lost last night.
I lifted my chin at him. “Thanks.” I scanned the rest of the room. I realized I didn’t know any of them, which made it easier for me to turn and move through the room that connected the kitchen to the living room. I could swing around, going up the back stairs, but as I did, I saw where the party was. Outside.
The giant patio doors were slid open. People were laughing. That was where the music was coming from, and lots of bikinis. Lots and lots of them.
“I’m planning on moving the party to Bresko’s later if you wanted to join?” Chad spoke from right behind me.
I turned, catching his grin, but it was a masked grin.
“Nah, I’m good.”
I started for the stairs.
“Hey.” Chad got in front of me. “What’s going on with us? You’ve been off for a week.”
He wanted to know about Cheyenne. I told him about Cheyenne. Then he told me about Cheyenne, but I found out Thursday night that I was thinking he didn’t know a lot about the sister he didn’t want me to see.
I stared at him. “You know what’s going on.”
He quieted, the grin slipped and he eased back a step. He was holding a beer and his hand tightened, gripping it. “You’re still going to see her?”
I gestured in the direction of the kitchen with my head. “What about that bunny? I thought you were seeing Cheyenne’s friend.”
“She’s not a bunny.”
“You know what I mean.”
He quieted, nodding. “Yeah. I do.”
And there was silence.
Which I figured.
Chad liked that I was usually laid-back off the ice. Until now, because I wasn’t anymore when it came to Cheyenne, and there were feelings involved. Those feelings came out of nowhere. And they were intense, and we were all playing catch up, including myself.
“I don’t want you seeing her.”
“That’s your answer to my question about her friend? You quit seeing the friend, hoping that’d make me not see your sister? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”
“She’s not my sister.” His knuckles whitened around the beer before smoothing out again. “But you are? Seeing her?”
“I don’t know. We don’t even know.”
“You’ve been gone. I mean, how would that work?”
I frowned. “Phone. Texting. I’d think the normal way.”
His neck was getting red. “That’s what you’re doing? You’re sexting with my sister?”
“Like you said, she’s not really your sister.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man, she’s Hunter’s sister.”
“She doesn’t seem to have a relationship with anyone in your family besides Hunter.”
“That’s because—”
I was waiting.
I hadn’t cut him off. He stopped himself.
“Because?”
The red was crawling up. Chad was getting pissed. “She’s a fucking mental case. You got no clue what she put my family through in high school—”
“She told me she had a crush on me in school. Did you know?”
He looked away.
So, he knew and he hadn’t told me. I asked, “Did she ask you not to say anything to me?”
His eyes lit up, and he sneered. “Ask me? Fuck no. We never talked. Like never. I barely saw her myself. Mom wanted Hunter and me out of the house, and that was for a reason. Her mom—”
“Was a junkie.”
His head reared back.
“She told me. She told me a lot, actually. She was trying to scare me off. Thought I’d bolt at the first red flag.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “She did?”
“Chad, baby.” The woman from his side in the kitchen came out, wrapping herself around him. She rested her head against his shoulder, smiling up at me. “Hey, Cut. How are you? You played great both nights.”
I nodded, but didn’t reply. I said to Chad, “I’ll be upstairs.”
“You coming out tonight?” It was the woman.
I looked her over, flicked my gaze to Chad and left.
I heard her pfft behind me, and I didn’t care.
Christ.
I didn’t know what was going on with Chad. He’d been my best friend for so long, we were brothers, but this side of him? It only came out when he talked about Cheyenne, and she’d been referred to as ‘that girl’ in the past.
My phone buzzed when I was putting my water and food on the desk.
Hendrix: Your boy texted, saying he’s got a party going to Bresko’s tonight. You going?
Me: No.
Hendrix: Want to come over here? Could watch the game.
Me: Let me check with someone quick.
And I texted to Cheyenne.
Me: You around tonight?
She didn’t waste time getting back to me. My phone buzzed right away.
Cheyenne: Was planning on heading to Tits tonight. My friend runs it. You’re back?
I grinned.
Me: Fucking love that you hang out at a strip club.
Cheyenne: Want to come? Hang out? I’ll give you a private lap dance, just make sure you bring those dollar bills.
And my dick was hard.
I stifled a groan but typed back.
Me: We still need a first date. Let’s save that for the second date.
Cheyenne: Deal.
Me: I’m going to go to a friend’s, but I could swing by your place after? How long do you stay at the titty bar?
Cheyenne: I’ll be there till about 9. You sure you don’t want to come? How many girls have you dated that try to entice you to a strip club?
Me: None. I don’t date.
I waited.
She didn’t respond right away.
I waited a little bit
more.
Then…
Cheyenne: Maybe the lap dance can be tonight at my place?
I was full-on smiling now, and I didn’t care.
Me: I am holding you to that.
Me: Text more later?
Cheyenne: Sounds good. I’m heading to the gym now.
Me: Be safe.
We ended it there, and the same feeling I had over the last few days, between our texting and our phone calls, was the same. This was new to me, but it felt good. It felt right. And I’d never felt that before either.
The music went up a whole decibel level, and I was done.
I texted Hendrix.
Me: You at your place now?
Hendrix: Yep. Game’s on.
I chuckled. If anything else, we were a predictable lot.
Me: Heading over now.
Hendrix: Pick up a pack, would you? I’m out.
I glanced at the food I grabbed, and none of it looked appeasing.
Me: Food?
Hendrix: I stocked up on the way home. Just bring the beer.
Me: On it.
16
Cheyenne
A girl’s ass was bouncing in my face.
And it was close enough that I could tell she put a strong dose of vanilla cupcake perfume right there. If I looked close enough, I could probably identify which self-tanner she used, and she preferred purple glitter rather than the regular all-color glitter.
Yep. Too close.
I focused on Sasha who was sitting next to me, lounging back in one of her booths, with an arm resting over the top of it, her hand dangling, and her other hand stroking her glass on the table.
“Why is Juna giving me a lap dance?” As I asked, the dancer in question turned and hooked one ankle around my neck, and her whole body fell backwards. “Oh! Whoa!”
“Don’t touch her,” came from Sasha, but she wasn’t too upset. She wasn’t even looking.
I looked down and past a thong that I did not want to see…there, in all her glory, I saw Juna looking up at me. She was laughing.
I asked, “You okay down there?”
She unhooked her ankle, sliding to the floor, and came back up to slide in on the other side of our booth. It was a round booth. It was Sasha’s special booth. She used it when the club wasn’t too full, and one of us was here.
“Yeah.” Juna winced, rotating her arm in a circle. “I was trying a new move, but it didn’t work. Everything else up to then was good, wasn’t it?”
“You don’t need the new move.” Sasha was still not watching us, she was looking out somewhere else. I didn’t think she was even seeing the main stage, or all the other booths that were spread out before us and below us. We were at the highest spot in the club. The rest was shitty seating, or really great private seating, depending on how you viewed it.
“You don’t think?”
“No.” Another monotone answer from Sasha.
Juna rubbed at her arm, frowning at her boss before looking at me. “What do you think?”
“I’m not a dance-expert, but the shows I’ve seen you do, I don’t think it’s needed either.”
She sighed, standing. “Okay. Maybe I’ll think about doing something else.”
“You don’t need anything new. Stick to what you do. It’s already perfect.”
“New tricks mean new tips.”
“The regulars like what you’re doing already.”
Juna was walking away and heard this last comment, sending a last grin over her shoulder before a guy snagged her up. Warm smiles, and soon she was air-grinding on a dude in a corner.
Sasha noticed, watching. “She better not try the new move.”
“But if she does, maybe she’ll get better tips.”
“She’ll hurt herself and then there’ll be no tips.”
Sasha could be a hardass, but not usually like this.
I frowned. “What’s going on with you?”
Not even a blink, she sent back, “What’s going on with you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”
“You and the NHL guy.” She scowled. “You’re seeing him?”
She knew I was. I’d called and told her what happened. “We’ve been texting. He’s had away games.”
“You think that’s smart? He was your ideal in school and college. That gives him an edge over you. He could hurt you, ya know.”
She was griping. Griping and Sasha went together like peas in a pod, but this was more. I gestured to my own face. “Right here.”
“What?” A sharp snap from her.
I touched the corner of my mouth. “Right here is where you have this line that goes down.”
She touched her own face, but her movements were jerky, impatient.
I shook my head. “That line just got worse.”
I was trying to tell her this, and I was trying to lead her down the path, but there was a buzzing. It was in the background, and my meds had kicked back in, but it always took a little before they really helped center things away. Because of that, I was sitting here, and I was acting like normal, pretending to myself and to Sasha that I was normal, but I wasn’t. The buzzing was building. It was in my blood, and it was rising, rising. If I let it overtake me, I’d be gone.
I couldn’t do that again.
I liked Tits. I liked the darkness of the place. I liked that there was some grime in it, too. I liked the girls. Of course, I liked the boss. The security guards were like uncles and big brothers. There was an undertone that was settling to me, even all the glitter, too.
I was able to relax in Tits, but Sash was interrupting that flow.
I scowled at her now. “What is your problem? And don’t turn it back on me. You’re in a mood. What gives?”
Her scowl just deepened, but she studied me a moment and let it go. “You’re jonesing.”
“I’m not jonesing.”
“You are. I thought you got back on your meds.”
“I did, and it doesn’t really matter where I’m at. You know how it is.”
She quieted, because she did.
“What crab crawled up your claw?”
She snickered, shaking her head. “You.”
“Me?”
“Well, your. Your brother.”
Chad. My scowl just deepened. Fucking Chad.
“Again, he’s not my brother, but what happened?”
“He’ll always be your brother, because that’s your relation with him, through your parents, through Hunter.”
I grinned. Koala Dude. He could always make me smile.
But we needed to focus here. I couldn’t get distracted. “What about Chad, though? What’d he do?”
“He dumped me.”
Oh-kay. This now entered the terrain where I really had to focus. That meant sitting up, leaning forward, and turning toward her. All the background shit needed to be just that, background. “Say again?”
She had a faint grin, knowing what I just did, and I scooted closer as she said, “He dumped me. Said since you’re seeing his boy, then he can’t see me. It was an either/or situation. And I’m not pissed at you, because you’re not the one choosing. He is.” As an afterthought, she said, “He did.”
Back to scowling. “Fucking Chad.”
She sighed, all the sniping gone from her. “Fucking Chad.”
“Let’s go toilet paper his house.”
“What?”
I grinned. “You heard me. I know where he lives.”
“That’s your boy’s house, too.”
I lifted up a shoulder. “They joined their houses so we can toilet paper only Chad’s side. And besides, Cut has money. He can pay for cleanup, no problem.”
“This won’t piss off your boy?”
“I’m not sure we’re at the stage where he’s ‘my boy’ yet.”
“What stage are you at?”
“We’re in pre-talks of the actual talk.”
“That makes no sense.”
I flashed her another grin.
“He can say all he wants, but until he sees my crazy shit and is okay with it, he and I are only talking and,” thinking about tonight, “doing other things. We’re enjoying each other right now. That’s our stage.”
“The enjoyment stage?”
“The enjoyment stage.”
“Holy cripes!”
That came from a booth in the back and we turned.
Juna was upside down on a guy’s lap.
Sasha sighed. “She tried the move.”
I nodded, seeing Juna flip over on the guy’s lap, but she jumped to her feet. The guy was cradling his dick, glaring at her. “You fucking bit—”
Three bouncers rushed in, and Sasha was getting out of the booth. “I told her not to do the move. She did. I don’t want to sit and hear her babble how she shouldn’t have done the move. Let’s go now.”
My blood buzzing just picked up a whole notch because I knew what this meant.
It was toilet paper time.
17
Cheyenne
There were so many different uses for toilet paper.
The obvious wiping your ass use. Toga use. Bridal party use. General party decoration use. Apocalypse panic-buying use. Then, you know, the whole rolling it and stuffing it somewhere and everyone’s imaginations can fill in the blank for those places. Bulging penises. Bras. Maybe just the use of wiping sweat from under the boobs. But today, no, tonight. Tonight the toilet paper was being used to make a statement: to be a pain in someone’s ass.
Chad’s ass, to be specific. Fucking Chad.
The entire back of Matilda was filled with toilet paper. Some might think we went overboard, but no way. The TP would always be used if we didn’t use it tonight. Pulling up, Sasha cut the lights and we frowned at the massive amounts of vehicles parked in both driveways and on the street.
“Did your boy say they were having a party?”
“The house is dark.”
“They have a backyard?”
I glanced sideways at Sasha. “You’ve not been here?”
She shook her head, her face grim and focused on the house. “He came over to my place each time.”
