Mackenzie
Riding the subway home from Jake’s apartment, my mind wasn’t far from the dumbass hockey player. Maybe Garrick was right. Maybe he was a lost cause. Because if he didn’t want to help himself, how the hell was I going to get his drunk ass off the floor and back on his feet again?
And what was with getting naked in front of me?
Gazing across the aisle my eyes fell to the guy reading the newspaper. For a moment I just stared, my mind still consumed with Jake and what an ass he was, before I realized what I was staring at. The headline read: Galveston Fury in Second Scandal.
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes, trying to read the article. Unfortunately the owner of the newspaper thought I was checking him out. He lowered the paper and grinned, wiggling his fuzzy eyebrows at me. I shook my head and mouthed a firm, “No” to which he simply shrugged and went back to reading.
I got off the subway and bought the paper from the closest newsstand to Eden, Fox & Coulter.
Garrick was with my father in his office.
“Someone didn’t go home last night,” he grinned, his bright eyes twinkling over my Hello Kitty T-shirt. “Your meeting with Jake Pennington go that well?”
“You’re so funny. I’m absolutely keeling over with laughter on the inside.” I gave him a pointed look. “While you were busy counting your chickens before they hatched, I was busy making sure that I win this bet.”
“Oh, yeah, and how do you plan on doing that?”
I slapped the newspaper down in front of my father.
“Galveston Fury in Second Scandal,” he read the headline and accompanying byline. “Four players, including star defense, benched for end of season ensures bottom of the leader board for embattled NHL team.”
He dropped the newspaper to his desk and smiled at me. My father was quick at the math. That was why he was the best in the business.
My cousin, on the other hand, needed a little more encouragement.
Garrick picked up the newspaper, arching an eyebrow in my direction. “Galveston Fury? As in Galveston, Texas?”
I nodded.
“Do they even have ice hockey in Texas?”
“Yes, asshole.”
He held up his arms as if it was an honest question. “Hey, I didn’t even know it snowed in Texas.” He threw the newspaper back down and leaned against the desk, folding his arms. He wore black suspenders over a white shirt, and looked every bit the southern gentleman he was. “I’m intrigued, cousin. How is the Galveston Fury going to save Jake Pennington?”
I grinned. “They’re not. He’s going to save them.”
* * *
Home was a loft I shared with two brats called Meg and Anna. Meg was your quintessential twenty-five-year-old man-eater, while Anna’s tastes were more controversial.
I’d gone to college with Meg in Phoenix and when I’d moved to New York she had invited me to share the Chelsea loft with her and Anna, whom she had met through work. Anna and I hit it off straight away and as a result, we three were as tight as sisters.
Desperate for a shower, I walked up to the front door and was about to unlock it when it opened and Anna appeared in the doorway with a beautiful blonde girl attached to her mouth. Well, I think she was beautiful. It was hard to tell when she was all over Anna’s face, kissing her so hungrily it felt like I’d walked into the middle of a bad porno.
Realizing I was there, Anna pulled away and smiled.
“Sorry, Mack. We were just saying goodbye,” Anna said sheepishly. “Gemma, meet my roommate, Mack. Mack, meet Gemma.”
Her blonde date smiled at me with kiss-swollen lips. “Hey, Mack.”
“Hey.” I nodded.
She looked from me to Anna. “So I’ll see you later?”
By the way Anna hustled her farther through the front door, I didn’t like Gemma’s chances.
“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it,” I said, brushing past them.
Inside I found my other roommate, Meg, at the kitchen counter pouring fresh coffee.
“If you pour me one of those I will love you forever.” I promised her as I slumped against the counter.
“You look like I feel, rough night?” Meg asked, placing a cup of black coffee in front of me.
“You could say that.” I hungrily took a sip of my coffee and let the bliss of that first mouthful settle across my alcohol-marinated brain. The hit was instant and I sighed. “What about you? Why are you so tired?”
Meg rolled her eyes and gestured toward Anna who was closing the front door. “Thanks to Jemma Jamieson over there, I got zero sleep.”
Anna joined us at the kitchen counter, grinning. “Hey, don’t blame me. I didn’t know she was going to be so vocal.”
“Vocal is not the word, Anna. The girl was a screamer.” Meg put her cup on the counter and gripped the edge as she mimicked Anna’s date. “Oh, Anna, oh, Anna, harder, yes, Anna . . . oh, God, Anna . . . I’m going to come . . . I’m going to come . . .” Meg relaxed and shook her head. “I’m in my room screaming ‘just come already so we can all get some fucking sleep’!”
Anna laughed. “What can I say?”
“How about sorry?” Meg suggested, sipping her coffee.
Anna held out her arms. “Can I help it if I am such a good lay?”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Speaking of a good lay . . .” She looked at me. “Why are you just getting home now? Did your date with the hockey player go that well?”
“Oooh, yeah, the hockey player,” Anna said, settling into her chair as if she was getting ready for a really good story.
I shook my head. “It wasn’t a date.”
Meg and Anna traded glances.
“Really? Are we teenagers?” I said, pulling them up.
“Okay, then. So this isn’t some walk of shame?” Meg made circles with her index finger as she pointed at me. “You walking in here at midday, wearing the same outfit you wore out last night to meet the hot hockey player?”
“I slept on his couch,” I said, keen to shut down whatever was about to happen.
Anna leaned in, her big almond-shaped eyes flashing across at me. “Does he have a big dick?”
That was typical Anna. Straight to the important questions.
“How would I know?” I shook my head. “Why would I want to know? He’s my client, remember?”
“What’s his name again?” Anna asked picking up her iPad from the kitchen counter.
“Jake Pennington.”
“Is he hot?” Meg asked. “Hockey players are hot. All of them. I think it’s the uniform, it’s so manly and sexy. They look so big and rough.”
“I don’t know. I was too blinded by his winning personality to notice,” I lied. Of course I noticed. Jake was in-your-face gorgeous. I just wasn’t prepared to admit it. “He’s an ass.”
“And he’s got a hot ass,” Anna said flipping her iPad around to show us a picture of Jake she’d found on the Internet.
“Wow . . . that’s your hockey player?” Meg cooed, grabbing the iPad from Anna. “Seriously, you spent the night on his couch and nothing happened? Really?”
“Really.”
“Damn. I would’ve totally climbed that man like a tree,” Anna said, snatching her iPad back.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Babe, you’re gay.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not gay.” She grinned. “I’m greedy.”
Meg and I looked at her questioningly.
“What? I like cock. I just happen to like pussy better.” She turned her attention back to her iPad.
“When was the last time you had sex with a guy?” Meg asked her.
Anna shrugged. “Two weeks ago.”
We both looked at her like she was an alien.
“What about you, Meg? When was the last time?” I asked.
She grinned. “Yesterday. With Troy.”
“Who is Troy?” Anna asked.
“That hot waiter from Mancini’s.”
“Oooh, yeah, he’s hot,” Anna agreed, still skimming through the iPad.
“What happened to Sven?” I asked.
“I decided to stop seeing him because his cock was too big.”
“Is there such a thing?” Anna asked.
Meg used her hands to indicate his length.
“No way!” Anna balked.
“I know, right? Seriously, it was like an anaconda trying to get into an anthole.”
“Too much cock for me,” Anna said before turning back to the iPad and flicking through pictures of Jake.
“I did try to stick it out though,” Meg continued. “But the last time we had sex he told me I was as tight as a little girl, and that was it for me. Like seriously, he thought that was something sexy to say? I couldn’t even finish after that. Ugh! Sometimes people should just shut the fuck up during sex.”
Anna and I nodded in agreement.
“Although, I don’t mind some nasty smut-talk when it’s actually sexy,” Meg added.
Again, Anna and I nodded in agreement.
“You should do your hockey player,” Meg said, leaning forward on the counter and smiling conspiratorially at me.
“Um, no, thanks.”
“Why not?” She asked.
“I do okay hooking up on my own, I don’t need to be the next PR crisis management with one of my clients,” I said.
Who was I kidding? It’d been weeks since I’d been laid.
Alright. Months.
Okay, it was last year sometime.
No wait. There was the college kid on the flight from Arizona to New York. What was his name? We’d flirted, thrown back a few tequila shots with beer chasers and then made out in the dim light of the plane. When we’d landed we’d found a motel nearby and spent the rest of the night fucking each other crazy.
Fuck, what was his name?
How could I forget the college kid? He was solid. Hours of boxing practice paid off and I got the benefit of his athleticism. Twice. His cock had been huge and . . . okay, that’s why I forgot about him. College kid had a finger that liked the back door and I didn’t care how hot you were, you weren’t putting anything up there. Not that I had a problem with other people doing it—I mean, whatever floats your boat, right?—it’s just me personally who wants to throat punch anyone who tries that move on me.
I’d skipped out on him before sunlight hit the street, feeling satisfied but anxious to put the encounter behind me. I guess you could say it was all part of the reckless behavior that had peaked following the incident.
My therapist would say it was me trying to reclaim my life back. To recapture the girl I had once been—frightened of nothing and living life on a whim. Recapture the girl I’d been before a delusional co-ed called Derek Jones developed a crazy obsession with me and decided I was his one.
Before him, I had been a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. Happy. Outgoing. Friendly. Confident. Then Derek had entered my life like a wrecking ball, and almost broke me with his lunatic behavior and stalkerish craziness. It all culminated in one horrific night that left me reeling and put me on a plane with a one-way ticket to New York City.
I shook off the memory. As a rule, I didn’t think about Derek anymore. It was the only way I could cope and move forward with my life.
I slid off the stool. I needed to shower and wash away my hangover. But as I passed through the living room I decided to text Jake and try one more time to see if we could meet to discuss his contract. Maybe over dinner.
I sank into the couch and texted him.
Me:Are you still in town?
Surprisingly, he texted me straight back.
Jake: Who is this?
I grinned.
Me:Am I going to have to establish who I am every time we talk? This is your Hello Kitty T-shirt-wearing hooker.
I could almost hear his groan from here.
Jake:How did you get my number?
My shower would have to wait.
Me:Seriously?
Jake:Forget I asked. What do you want?
Me:Are you busy?
Jake:I’m jizzing on the couch.
I looked at my phone. What the fuck?
Me:Ewwww. TMI, dude.
Jake: WTF…?
Jake: Jizzing. Im jizzing on the couch.
Me:Oh, that clears it up.
Jake:Chilling! CHILLING on the couch! Stupid autocorrect.
Me:Sure. Blame autocorrect.
Jake:Autocorrect is evil.
I laughed out loud, vaguely aware of my roomies watching me.
Me: Dude, how often do you write jizzing?
Jake:Obviously too much.
I shook my head and chuckled.
Me:I don’t want to know. Are you busy? Can we talk? Dinner perhaps?
Jake:I’m masturbating chicken breasts.
What. The?
Me:Uh, ok. I will leave you alone with your chicken breasts then.
Jake: oh, fuck me!
Jake: Marinating. I’m MARINATING chicken breasts.
Me:Sure. Masturbating and jizzing…totally makes sense now.
Jake: My phone is possessed.
Me:Your phone is hilarious.
I looked up and both Meg and Anna were looking at me like I was the most intriguing thing in the world.
“What?”
“You should see the smile on your face,” Meg said.
“I’ve never seen you grin so big,” Anna added.
I rolled my eyes. “Autocorrect has turned his phone into a smut-talking masturbator. It was funny, is all.”
My roommates shared a knowing look.
Whatever.
My phone buzzed again.
Jake: If I promise not to masturbate chicken breasts and jizz on the couch, wanna join me?
I read his message and then read it again. I had expected resistance. I had expected a challenge. I had expected him to be a giant pain in the ass. What I hadn’t expected was a dinner invitation.
Before he found his cranky pants again and reneged on his invitation, I quickly typed my response.
Me:I can honestly say I never thought anyone would ask me to dinner quite like that.
Jake:What can I say? I’m one of a cunt.
Me:Just for the record, you said it . . . not me.
Jake: FML
I fought with the laughter bubbling inside of me. At least my crazy hockey player still had a hint of humor left in him.
Me: I’m surprised by your change of heart.
Jake: Your father is quite persuasive.
I should’ve known. He had spoken to Hank.
Me: What did my old man have to say?
Jake: That I should leave my dick open for you.
I couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of me.
Me:I’m pretty sure my father doesn’t want me anywhere near your dick.
Jake: DOOR. My DOOR.
Jake:I hate my phone
Me:I love your phone. If your phone was a guy, I’d date it.
Jake: You’re sexy.
Me:Thank you.
Jake: You’re sick. SICK.
Jake: Fuck. Of course that happened.
Me:On my way. See you in 20.
Jake:Dick is open.
Jake: Fuck my lifesaver.
Jake: Autocorrect hates me.
Unable to stop laughing, I ignored the interested stares of my roommates and went to my room to quickly shower. Afterwards I brushed my hair back into a high ponytail, slipped into my favorite pair of worn jeans, a tank and a figure-hugging, zip-up jacket and pulled on my knee-highs. Twenty minutes later I rushed out the door, squishing down the part of me that was suddenly excited about seeing Jake again.
* * *