Chapter 3—Playmaker

Vi pulled into the parking lot and barely glanced at the tasteful sign proclaiming “Dancing Girls, Inc.” Below in smaller letters on the marquee was “Featuring the Inked Women of Seattle.”

Vi hustled to the back door, hugging her trench coat tightly to her in the pelting rain. Jose, the back-door bodyguard, saw her coming and held the door open.

Jose grinned, and she smiled back. Most of the bouncers at Dancing Girls, Inc., were gay, as were the owners. Benjamin, the main owner, liked it that way. He didn’t have to worry about the staff messing with the dancers. He ran a clean establishment with a zero-tolerance policy for drugs and prostitution. His girls might get naked, but they entertained and danced, showcasing their talents in an artistic and entertaining manner.

A former professional dancer himself, Benjamin billed his club as Vegas-style entertainment rather than mere stripping. His girls were showgirls, not strippers. In addition to his regular female lineup on weekends, he had his weekly and quite popular Monday Males stripper night, along with his Talented Tuesday cross-dresser night. As an exotic dancer, you wanted to work for Benjamin. The place was always packed, the tips good, and his bouncers made sure the men kept their hands to themselves. Private parties were not offered, nor were lap dances. The club was classy, exclusive, and discreet. Some of the wealthiest men and women in Seattle were frequent visitors. Vi had worked here for two years, moving up to one of their starring roles in their popular “Inked Women” show with the stage name of Jazz.

Running a little late, Vi hurried down the hall and into the dressing room shared with several other women. She tossed her coat in her locker, sat down at the bank of mirrors, and proceeded to get ready for the night’s performance.

Next to her, Stephanie, aka Raven, sniffled and stared at her hands, not moving. She looked like hell. The girl cried a lot. Most of the dancers had become immune to it and ignored her. A person could only take so much drama, but Vi found Steph hard to ignore. Something about this tragically sad girl tugged at her heartstrings in a place she normally reserved for homeless cats and endangered species.

“Steph, you okay?”

Stephanie wiped her face and blew her nose. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t fine, but Vi learned a long time ago not to butt into other people’s business. Yet every time she saw the frightened look in Steph’s eyes, she fought the urge to push her way inside. Steph’s boyfriend showed up every night after the performances. No one liked him, and he’d been banned from the club a month ago for being an asshole. More than once, Vi noticed him sitting in their beat-up truck as he counted Steph’s tips for the night while Steph stared out the window, looking like a caged canary.

Steph did a schoolgirl routine popular with the patrons prior to the headliner Inked show. She had an incredible body and big boobs that made the guys overlook her miserable expression and mechanical movements. Her dancing wasn’t up to par with the other girls, but Vi suspected Benjamin had a soft spot for the downtrodden figure and cut her a lot of slack.

“You’re not fine,” Vi said, surprised at herself for pushing the point.

Steph met her gaze and sniffled, wiping her eyes. She studied her for so long, Vi squirmed in her chair.

“Do you like doing this?” Steph finally said.

“This? Dancing for money? Yeah, it’s fun, and the pay is good. Benjamin treats us well.”

“I hate it,” Steph ground out with more vehemence than Vi had ever heard from her. The poor thing looked away and fiddled with the sash on her worn bathrobe.

“Then why do you do it?”

“We need the money.”

Vi bristled. “There are other ways to earn money.”

“I know, but not this kind of money. This is my best option.”

“If you’re uncomfortable stripping, this is not your best option.”

Steph shrugged. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. Gino has a lead on a job, and then I can quit.” She sounded so hopeful, Vi’s heart squeezed. That lazy-assed jerk didn’t appear to have any chance of holding down a job, not with his surly attitude and nonexistent work ethic.

“Steph, he doesn’t hurt you, does he?” Vi spoke before she thought, yet she wanted to know.

Steph ducked her head and refused to look up.

“Because if he does, and you’re afraid of him, there are places you could go.”

Steph shook her head, keeping her face shrouded by a curtain of blond hair. “He’s not like that. He’s really very sweet.”

Vi bit back a sarcastic retort. That’s what all battered women said. She tore the edge off a program and scrawled her number on it. “If you ever need anything, call me. Anytime. Day or night.”

Steph’s stricken gaze flickered from Vi to the piece of paper. She snatched it out of Vi’s hand and shoved it in her purse. “Thanks.” She glanced around guiltily as if expecting her horrid boyfriend to be lurking in the shadows. He most likely would be if he could get away with it.

“You’re welcome. Now, we’d better get ready. The show must go on.” She gave Steph a little nudge and smiled. Steph managed a sad smile back.

 

* * * *

 

Saturday night and no game. Matt’s mom, Irene, was home now, and he didn’t have an excuse to stay in, but he turned down his teammates and watched Spider-Man for the zillionth time with the boys. Andy preferred dinosaurs, but Joey was Spider-Man all the way.

Joey fell asleep halfway through, while Andy yawned his way to the end. Matt carried Joey upstairs with Andy on his heels. Once his boys were firmly tucked in bed, Matt wandered around his big house, not tired enough to sleep and frustrated for reasons he couldn’t explain.

His mom came into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. She gave him one of those looks only his mom could give. She saw too much, and sometimes her scarily accurate mother’s intuition was annoying as hell.

“Why didn’t you go out tonight?” she said.

“Not in the mood.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter, popping the top and taking a long pull.

“But you’re restless.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

His mom sat on a barstool and regarded him with amazingly brilliant green eyes. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“Of course not,” he said, laughing. “But you’ll twist my arm anyway.”

“I will. Matt, it’s been nearly three years. It’s time to move on.”

“I have moved on. You don’t think I still carry a torch for Brie, do you?”

“No, I don’t believe you ever carried a torch for her. She was convenient, pretty to look at, and comfortable. You’re a man who likes the familiar, not the unfamiliar.”

“If it’s not broke, why fix it?”

“But it was broken.” Leave it to his mother to bully her way past his bullshit and get right to the point.

Matt sat down next to her and stared at the label on his beer. “I know.”

“You need to get back in the dating pool.”

“Every time I think of starting over and going through that hell again, I can’t muster the energy to do so. Hockey and the boys take all I have.” Matt sighed.

He wanted sex. He didn’t miss the fights, the worry of where his wife was and what she was doing when he was on a road trip, or the knot in the pit of his stomach every time she flirted with one of the rookies. He missed having sex, the physical closeness, the orgasms, the boneless relaxation afterward.

“Love isn’t hell if you pick the right person.”

“And obviously, I’m not a valid judge of who is the right person for me.”

“You were too young.”

“Not that young. I was twenty-four when we married.”

“Twenty-four is young. You’d led a sheltered life revolving around hockey. She came at you like a freight train with big boobs and long legs, and you never knew what hit you.”

“Mom.” He chastised her and rolled his eyes.

She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him with a steely gaze she reserved for her children when they did something bad. “I’m not going to be here forever, Matt. I love taking care of the boys, don’t get me wrong, but I want to travel with my girlfriends, see the world. I’ve finally healed enough to move on myself. Your dad was an incredible man, and I have no interest in finding another, but I’m ready to live my life again. I want to take painting classes, maybe join a sailing club. I want to go home to Montreal.”

Matt sat back, feeling as if he’d been slapped, and regarded his mother. This was a new development. She’d never voiced her concerns before, and shame wrapped its bony fingers around his throat, making it tough to speak. He’d been so immersed in his own troubles, he’d pretty much dismissed hers. He’d patted himself on the back for doing her a favor by giving her something meaningful to do after his dad died. The situation had been convenient for him. Only now did he realize how selfish he’d been.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

She squeezed his arm and smiled. “No need to be sorry. We needed each other at a tough time in our lives. Now we should quit being each other’s crutch and walk on our own. You need a love interest other than hockey. The boys need a mother figure who isn’t as ancient as me.”

“You aren’t ancient,” he protested.

“Ah, you’re so sweet. Go practice that charm on a woman your own age.”

“Charm?” He snorted.

“You can be charming, honey, but you have to put effort into it.”

“The thought of dating wears me out.”

“Matt, I’m not asking you to find your true love. I’m asking you to let loose. Have some fun. Have a fling, for God’s sake.”

“Mom!”

“Yes, have a fling. How about that nice girl who used to hang out here with Amelia?”

“Nice girl? You don’t mean Vi?” He stared incredulously at his mother, wondering if she’d hit her head or knocked down one too many of those lemon drops she liked so much.

“Yes, that was her name, Vi. I liked her, and the two of you had enough chemistry to ignite a forest in the middle of a Seattle rainstorm.”

“It’s not chemistry. It’s called intense dislike, easily mistaken by some as chemistry.”

“Matt, I wasn’t born yesterday, or even in this century. I know sexual tension and undeniable chemistry when I see it. You two have it in spades. Why not act on it? It’s not like you’re going to marry the girl. At least, not yet.”

Matt hated discussing his sex life with his mother. The entire convo was weird and disconcerting; even worse, she was suggesting a fling with Vi. Had she lost her mind? Had she and her female buddies taken up drugs while she visited Montreal last week? Or maybe they sniffed too much glue during their arts and crafts.

“Vi is out of the question, but I’ll consider what you’ve said. It is time. For both of us.” He’d give her that much. If he didn’t, the nagging would exponentially increase by the minute.

“Good,” she said with a satisfied smile.

His mom thought she’d won the battle. Matt considered it a draw, which was good for him. When his mother was on a roll, she had tendency to beat a dead horse and not give up until the poor thing was reduced to a bloody pulp. Matt considered himself lucky he’d escaped relatively unscathed—this time.

Heaven help him.

He didn’t want a fling. He had a habit of turning his flings into serious relationships. Fuck, he’d been blind enough to marry one of them. This time, he’d take it slow and pick the right woman. He wanted a nice, sweet lady who knitted scarves for the homeless, went to church on Sunday, and wore tasteful clothes that covered all the important parts. He wanted someone who would love his children as if they were her own. He didn’t want her to replace their absentee mother, but to fill in the empty spots and find her own place in their hearts and his. He wanted what he’d never had: a woman he could tell his problems and get responses full of caring wisdom, a woman who’d be his partner, his better half, his everything. He wanted what his parents had.

Maybe he wanted the impossible, but he couldn’t settle for less, no matter how much he lusted after a certain inked woman.

But would he be settling if they both knew up front it was only temporary?

 

* * * *

 

On Tuesday, Matt left on a three-game, five-day road trip, which gave him plenty of time to ponder his sex life, or lack thereof. For so long, he’d concentrated on the team and his boys to the exclusion of all else. It felt weird and a little selfish to be thinking of himself, but his mother was right if for no other reason than the boys needed a mother figure in the house.

Matt tried to interest himself in some of the businesswomen hanging around the hotel, but his dick had other ideas. His boy wanted Vi, and right now no one else satisfied it.

The Sockeyes won the first two with strong performances from Coop and Cedric. Matt took his position as alternate captain seriously and joined the guys for dinner and partying after game two. He wasn’t much into partying, never had been, but he and Coop both agreed their presence kept the young guys under control and out of jail.

Matt sat at a long table in a secluded alcove of the large hotel bar, flanked by Ice and Coop. Across from them sat Cedric, aka Smooth. Judging by the wicked gleam in Smooth’s eyes, he was sexting with his girl, Bella. He didn’t look up once from the phone.

Coop rolled his eyes, and Ice coughed. Matt said nothing. Brick pulled up a seat next to them, slumming with boring guys, having been recently taken off the market by Amelia. If only Matt could find a woman like that. She loved kids, and was sexy as hell and loyal to the end. She also loved Brick with blind devotion.

Matt glanced down the table, checking off who was present and who was missing. All his teammates were there except one—Hot Rod. The poor guy had been fighting off and on with his wife during the entire road trip. The woman was a bitch, and no one on the team liked her—for good reason. She’d drop her pants and screw anything. Only Rod was in denial.

As Matt squinted in the dimly lit room, he could make out Rod’s tall body. A second later, the poor bastard walked into the bar, shoving his phone in his pocket and sporting a huge frown.

Things weren’t going well. Matt had taken the young player under his wing, knowing exactly how it felt to marry a puck bunny who wasn’t the least bit faithful. The pain was still fresh, even if it had been close to three years since he’d been wrapped up in Brie’s brand of drama.

Matt grabbed a chair and pulled it between him and Coop, forcing the other guys to scoot down and make room. Rod dropped into the chair, commandeered an empty glass, and poured a beer from one of many pitchers scattered about the table. He tossed the beer back and poured another.

“You can’t let her affect your game,” Coop said, always touting team first.

Rod looked at Coop with bloodshot eyes and sighed. “I’m trying not to.”

Coop glanced over Rod’s head to Matt and raised a brow.

Matt took his cue. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“She’s not answering—again. I told her I’d call her after the game. She should’ve been expecting it.”

“Try texting her,” Brick said helpfully, but the pity in his eyes was obvious.

“I did. Multiple times.” Rod hunched over his beer and gripped it in both hands.

“That’s rough, man,” Smooth said.

Rod ran his gaze around the group. “You all think she’s cheating on me, don’t you?”

No one said a word. Their uncomfortable silence was enough of an answer. Rod’s jaw tightened, and his glare was ferocious. “Candy would never do that to me.”

More silence and pitying glances.

“She wouldn’t,” Rod protested.

“Hey, buddy, if she is, you’ll know. Deep down, you’ll know.” Matt gave him a soft slap on the back and smiled at him. The pain in his teammate’s eyes caused a burning anger deep in his gut. The woman was an untrustworthy gold digger, and Rod deserved better.

They switched to other subjects and took the heat off their unfortunate teammate. A few hours and a couple beers later, Matt excused himself from the table and headed to his room.

“Hey, Matt, wait up.”

Matt paused before the bank of elevators and turned to see Rod hurrying after him. He waited patiently.

“Can we talk? Privately.”

“Sure. How about over here?” Matt gestured to a small seating area in a dark corner of the lobby.

They walked to the plush chairs and sank into them.

“What’s up?”

“You’ve been through this.”

“So you’ve heard?”

“Yeah, I mean, guys talk. You married a puck bunny after she claimed she was pregnant. She dumped you for another guy a few years ago. Did you see warning signs?”

“They were there. I just didn’t want to see them. She practically booted my ass out of the house whenever there was a road trip. She enjoyed me being gone way too much. I did everything I could to please her, and all she did was bitch about how I wasn’t doing enough.”

Rod listened intently, his eyes a storm of emotions. “When I’m on a road trip, she never answers the phone. Claims she goes to bed early.”

“And you’re not buying it?”

“Would you?”

Okay, that was a loaded question Matt didn’t want to answer. “Doesn’t matter what I believe. I’m a little jaded on this subject. Do you believe her?”

“No.” Rod wrung his hands and sighed. “I’m pretty sure she’s cheating on me. Remember that rookie who got sent down to Portland a month ago?”

“Uh, yeah.” Matt knew the one. And there wasn’t a guy on the team who didn’t have his suspicions.

“He texted her a picture of his junk. She said it was nothing. Just a joke between them.”

Matt furrowed his brow and stared intently at Rod. Time for a little tough love. “And you believed her?”

“No. There was other stuff, too, with other guys. Stuff I don’t want to talk about. She promised nothing happened. That they were just flirting, that she loved me and only me. I let it go. Am I an idiot?”

The jury was out on that. Most likely Rod was an idiot who’d fallen for the wrong woman, but who was Matt to judge? Been there, done that. Didn’t get a cigar or even an attaboy. Instead, he got a broken heart and a healthy aversion to going down that particular road again.

“Rod, I think you know in your heart what’s going on. Denying it doesn’t make the truth disappear. It’ll fester and fester until the wound is so infected, you think you’ll never recover.”

Rod nodded solemnly. “Is that how you felt?”

“Yeah, that’s still how I feel. She did a number on me and the boys. Your wife is doing a number on you, and the entire team knows it.” They were harsh words, but someone had to say them to this poor sap. “She’s been sniffing around for a while, trying to find a guy who’ll give her the life she wants. You became that guy, but any of us would’ve worked for her.”

Rod swallowed and put his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, man. I can’t stand seeing you go through this, knowing damn well what’s going on. Cut her loose before she does any more damage to you or your bank account.”

“I’ll think about what you’ve said.” Rod rose to his feet. Anger was etched in his face. Matt didn’t know if he was pissed at her, Matt, or himself.

“Rod, if you need to talk more, I’m here.”

Rod managed a wry smile. “Thanks.”

Matt watched him go, his own gut tied in knots. Rod’s anguish resurfaced past pain. He knew what betrayal and denial felt like.

He’d lived with it for years.