by Shey Stahl
“Hello, I’m Rita.” The lady behind the counter said, sliding key cards across the granite towards us. “Here are your room keys.”
Callie and I had separate rooms, while Mase and Ami shared, naturally, and when Remy got here later tonight, he was staying with me.
Callie reached for her room card and strutted off with her purse against her chest and suitcase rolling behind her. I watched her ass as she walked away. Mase patted my back and then strolled past me leaving me standing there alone. “You’re pathetic.” He said over his shoulder.
I was.
When I got to my room, I looked around. My room overlooked the pool that Callie had been staring at. I caught a glimpse of her room number and knew she was only four doors down from me and had this same view.
What was she thinking right now? Was she also seeing what I was seeing? Did she know that I’d give anything to be in her room, in her bed, under her sheets, her under me? I was going out of my mind trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong after we had sex. I’d covered every angle. Was I too rough, was it too soon, was it not enough? I just couldn’t wrap my head—and I do mean the head on my shoulders—around what happened and what the hell to do to fix it. This woman was going to drive me to fucking drink.
Drink. Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.
Running my hands through my hair, I walked back down to the lobby intent on finding a bar.
I think clothing designers of women’s apparel get together and decide how can we make a dress so sexy that men will want to rip it off?
When Callie appeared that night for dinner at La Botella she was wearing one of those dresses that I was sure was designed to be ripped off. I’d never seen her wear something like that before and I’ve seen her naked and wearing lace with nothing left to the imagination. I stared, I could have been drooling for all I know as I watched her walk through the lobby. The dress was black, cut just above her knees and loose fitting at the top where a slit between her tits opened up like the Grand Canyon revealing the slightest bit of cleavage and hints of where my mind was already taking me as I gawked at her wearing that dress. The arms were cut so I could see the sides of her tits, and the back, God, the back was cut so low I could almost see the crack of her ass.
Once I recovered from the shock, I was turned on. She looked amazing in the dress. No doubt by design to fuckin’ keep my dick in a fucking state of pain. I bet she packed everything for this trip with the idea that she was going to flaunt around and torture me to fucking death.
As she walked past me, I snaked my arm around her waist and pulled her back against my chest. I heard her sudden intake of breath feeling my dick against her lower back. Bringing my mouth to her ear, I let my breath blow over her neck as I spoke. “Are you trying to fuckin’ kill me with that dress?”
“The way I dress has everything to do with making me feel good and nothing to do with you.”
I had to chuckle at her sass. “Don’t lie, baby. You wore this dress for me. You did. You want me to take you back to my room and give you my stick. Fuck that wet pussy of yours.” At the word fuck, I felt her stomach quiver in response under my splayed hand. “Well, baby, you may be in luck because this dress makes me want to take you right here. Against that table in front of us, bend you over and let everyone in this restaurant know that you’re mine.”
She scoffed but it was shaky, I was getting to her. “Do you actually say those things to people?”
She broke free of my arms but I snapped her back before she could get away from me.
My hands rested on her forearm. She turned and that’s when I caught a hint of her smell. Callie always smelled amazing, probably because she worked for a company who manufactured sex in bottles as far as I was concerned. I wanted to fall at her feet, run my hands up her thighs and bury my head in her pussy. “Evidently.”
Her dark eyes caught mine knowing what I was thinking, the clearness of them softened by memories of us she couldn’t ignore. “Jerk.” She uttered pushing past me, memories pushed aside.
“You love me.” I yelled at her, following her towards the table where Mase and Ami were waiting for us. “Oh yeah, you do.”
“Is Remy here yet?” Mase asked me.
I shook my head, my eyes on Callie, leaning into her ear before taking a seat next to her. “You look really pretty.”
“I know.” She smiled, refusing to look at me and instead looking at Mase. “Anything good to drink here?”
He gave her a look I couldn’t place, maybe shock, or confusion and then pushed the drink menu at her. Ami, who sat on the other side of her leaned in and whispered something to her, but stopped when Callie shook her head at the question.
The waiter made his way to the table. “Can I get you anything?” He looked at Callie first, and then me knowing Mase and Ami already had drinks in hand.
“I’ll have… water. Bottled.” Callie spoke absently, her attention on the table pushing the menu away.
I’ve never seen Callie not drink. Ever.
“You’re not drinking?”
She gave me a brief, distracted glance. The table went silent, Callie’s eyes raised from the table, to mine, again. Handing me the drink menu, she turned her stare back to the table. “I don’t feel like it.”
I shrugged, blowing it off, she was acting strange, I wasn’t surprised by anything anymore. “I’ll have a Corona.” Giving the drink menu to the waiter, he left and I looked at Mase. “Remy should be here any minute.”
Mase nodded.
When Remy did show up, we all laughed. He wasn’t feeling good this morning, which was why he took a later flight but he wasn’t one to pass up a trip to Mexico so he came anyways. Stuffed up, red eyes and coughing, he walked into the restaurant with a bottle of Nyquil in one hand and bottle of Crown Royal in the other. Seemed like a perfect combination if you were trying to put yourself out of misery.
He sat down next to Callie, wrapped his arm around her and then smiled at us. “Hola.”
All of us stared at him, Callie raised her hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up, Remy.”
“Para tu, bebé.”
“Since when do you speak Spanish, Carsey?” Mase asked, laughing at him.
“This cocktail mixture of Nyquil and Crown Royal have drawn out this innate talent I didn’t even know I had, mi amigo.” Remy sneezed rather obnoxiously, all the while smiling like he thought he’d found buried treasure.
I didn’t like that Remy was flirting with her. He knew how I felt but no way was I letting on that it bothered me. Instead I sat back in my seat and drank my beer. When they delivered chips, salsa and the best guacamole in the world, I ate like I’d been rescued on a deserted island and had lived off of coconuts and bananas for months. I was fucking angry at Callie, Remy, and mostly myself and was taking it out on the unsuspecting chips and dips sitting in front of me.
I was worried about Callie. More so than before. She looked pissed all through dinner, and when I danced with that red headed chick on the bar, she looked sick. Physically sick. Which threw me because she’d been ignoring me.
There was something about the way she watched me dance with the girl on the bar. A look, though brief, that told me her not talking to me wasn’t because she didn’t want to. There was something she was hiding from me. Something she was afraid to say.
I then danced with Callie, kissed her neck, told her how fucking sexy she was and how badly I wanted to rip off that dress, only to have her run away to the bathroom.
“Go check on Callie,” Mase said to me, words slurring, wrapped around Ami in the booth. I was sure they were moments away from boning, and though the thought of catching a glimpse of Ami naked was appealing, I was more compelled to find Callie. I had enough liquid courage in me this time I was going to ask her what the fuck her problem was and demand an answer.
When I found her, she was in the women’s bathroom drinking from an orange juice container, a bottle of gin in the other hand. She was half dressed in
the stall, staring at herself in the mirror ten feet away, crying hysterically.
I was caught off guard by how intensely I wanted to hold her right then. Her flushed cheeks and wide brown eyes said a lot more than she wanted them to.
When she walked away, she turned and looked back, an expression of pain took over me.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, wiping her tears away. I had to stop and look at where I was. I walked in like I owned the place, a man on a mission. I was on a mission. I needed to know why she was treating me like a dick all night when clearly I wasn’t being one.
“What happened to you?” I leaned into the door, relaxed with my arms crossed over my chest. “Someone slap you in the forehead with their dick again?”
I was only teasing, trying to get a rise out of her. Enough of this not talking shit.
Callie’s reaction was guarded, and I thought maybe I had offended her. Until she laughed. Then I realized that shit was pretty much impossible to do.
As she turned to walk away, I followed, watching her adjust her black dress I wished she’d just take it off already.
Looking at her now, I wanted to grab her hand—and maybe her ass—and make her look at me. When I was drunk my dick reacted. And right now it wanted to react in ways I knew she’d like if she would just let me get close to her.
Who am I kidding? Hand? I wanted to grab her ass. Even that was a lie. I wanted to rip that fucking pasty of a dress off and reacquaint myself with those tits I dreamed about every night.
She turned around to look at me again, waving her heels in her hand around and walking barefoot back to our table. When we got there, Ami and Evan were gone like I expected.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” I asked, watching her chew on her lip, red-faced and indecisive and refusing to look at me.
“Listen to me, Leo,” she said, waving her heels again, the bottle of gin tucked under her arm and the carton of OJ in her other hand. I was listening all right. Was I looking at her? Nope. Her tits had my attention again. “I’m drinking gin from an orange juice container. Does that tell you how I feel?”
She wasn’t drinking gin. I’d only seen her drinking that orange juice so that told me something. She was lying to me.
“Well, yeah,” I said, smiling, working her over in any way I could. Callie took some finesse, if you will. She wasn’t your typical puck bunny you could throw up against the boards. She’d bend over those fucking boards, yeah, and she’d even stick her leg on your shoulder. But, just when you least expected it, she wanted to be treated like a lady. Could I blame her?
No. Not at all. I could treat her like a lady if she’d let me.
I wanted to treat her like a lady—a dirty lady willing to bend over for me—but still, a lady.
I wanted to say so much to her right then. She was looking at me, after all, expecting an answer while holding the OJ and gin. She set the bottle and carton on the table and reached inside her purse and pulled out what I never expected to see.
Ever.
Never wanted to see.
She showed it to me and then tossed it on the table. Bringing her hand to her face she tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Say something, Leo.”
“Can I have a drink?” was what left my mouth.
When her eyes met mine, she couldn’t hold my stare. Remy spit out his drink when he looked at what she threw down and was immediately laughing.
Remy was in no position to give advice or even speak at this point based on how he was medicating himself with over the counter meds and alcohol. “This folks is what we call a check to the head.”
“I’m pregnant.” Callie said, rolling her eyes at Remy.
Remy stood, hesitantly. He didn’t want to leave a man down, but he also wanted nothing to do with this. “Ummm, okay, I know when the clock has run out and it’s time to leave the ice, I’m out.”
And he did. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be part of this conversation. In fact, I didn’t want any part of this conversation.
I stared at her, frozen with shock at what she said. I’m sure my face was blank too.
What was she implying here? That it was mine?
How could I know it was mine?
I didn’t. I had no idea what Callie had been doing this last month. She had been ignoring me, remember?
I said absolutely nothing to her in response. Nothing. I don’t even think I was breathing.
By my lack of words, Callie left when the waiter delivered my third margarita of the night.
Mase returned to the table, smiling, and then looked at me like he wanted to shake me. “What’s with you?”
“Callie’s pregnant.”
Mase smiled. Just fucking smiled like this was good news. How the fuck could it be? I am twenty-three. No way did I want to be a dad right now. I had a shitty dad. What made her think I would be a good one?
“Fuck this margarita bullshit,” I pushed the glass along the table to the center where the chips were. Making the few steps to the bar, I looked at the bartender and leaned over the counter reaching for whatever was back there. “Give me every drink you have.”
“Okay.” Mase put his hand on my shoulder and made me come back to the table. “Just calm down.”
“I’m not fucking around.” I shook Mase’s hand off me and stared the bartender down. “Give me that shit, now.”
Raising his hands, he sat down, resting his elbows on the table. “Drink away.”
I’m not sure if he wanted to see what was going to happen with me, I could be a very entertaining drunk, or maybe he was just concerned about me.
“Maybe you should slow down and talk to her.”
“She ignored me for a goddamn month.” I pointed my finger at him. Or at least I thought I was, but when Remy, who’d returned, moved my finger two feet to the left, I realized I’d just pointed at a chick’s ass. “I think she’s done talking!”
“Or maybe she isn’t going to talk to me. You know what, I don’t care. I’m about to be on the cover of Fuck You Assholes.”
“Are you okay?” Remy asked next to me.
I turned, exaggerated and quite slow, the room spinning with it. “No! Do I look like I’m okay?” I waved my drink around in the process splashing Evan. “Nothing about this is fucking okay.” I slammed the drink down. “Not fucking okay.”
“Fuck.” Remy sat back, not sure what else to do.
Evan stood. “I’m going to bed. Make sure he gets to his room.” He stopped at the bar. “Stop serving him.” And then gestured to me.
“Ignore him!” I yelled, waving the drink one more time. This time it slipped from my hands and landed down the front of Remy. I looked at him, then the empty cup, and turned to the bartender. “I need another one!”
The rest was a blur. An absolute blur.
Turned out, Remy had a good idea about chasing shots with Nyquil.
Eventually I did make it back to my room, Remy sound asleep with his bottle and me on the bathroom floor praying for death or sleep, whichever made the spinning stop.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket so I pulled it out and leaned against the bathtub with my elbows resting on my knees. I’m not sure when Callie sent the text, but I had to squint to read it.
Callie: I am pregnant, Leo.
I held the phone just inches from my face as I typed. Me: You have the wrong number.
She replied immediately, no doubt sitting beside her phone.
Callie: No. I have the right one, asshole. Own up.
Me: I can’t. I was wearing a rain coat. It’s not mine.
Callie: Nice. Way to be a dick. You can still get pregnant even though you’re wearing a condom.
The intoxicated me didn’t care though. She’d fuckin’ ignored me for a month and now this. Fuck that shit.
Me: Check with Remy. You seemed flirty with him.
Callie: Don’t be a dick. I wasn’t with Remy. I was with you and my vagina is a tornado and sucked up that
cheap motherfucker you called a rain coat. Own up!
I didn’t reply after that. I knew I was about to say something stupid and she would hate me even more than she already did. And also, I had to throw up. There was a water bottle in there, I took a drink to ease the anxiety and then leaned over the toilet to vomit.
“Let me die.” I muttered, wiping my mouth off with the towel beside me after I emptied my stomach for the second time since I came in here.
My phone chirped again.
Callie: Leo?
Leo: Wrong number.
Callie: You’re such an irresponsible piece of shit!!
Okay. Well, I’d apparently already crossed the line. Setting my phone down, I walked to the bed and collapsed. Looked like drinking everything on the menu wasn’t the best idea.
It’s hard to imagine what your life will be like. Never did I think this was going to happen. It’s like a game.
Three periods deciding your fate.
Every time a new play presented itself, you thought, can I make this shot?
I wasn’t so sure now.
The difference between what was happening now was that this was one period deciding the rest of my life. Could I make this shot that impacted not only the two of us but even brought another player into the mix?
I never saw this coming. It was like a check to the head.
Callie Pratt
Pull the goalie - Remove the goalie from the ice in order to temporarily replace him with an extra skater (attacker).
My heart was beating so loudly when I woke up in a jerking movement, I wondered if it was the loudness that woke me up.
Immediately I was reminded of why my heart was beating that way.
It’s not mine.
My skin pricked with anxiety. How could he say that? He knew I was only with him.
Feeling like I needed to move, I got up from the bed and walked over to the window. Early morning sun cast down on the blue waters, white sand called my name.
Barefoot and wearing the same dress I wore last night, I padded my way down to the beach to feel the sand between my toes. Maybe then I could think.
