CHAPTER SEVEN

UPSTAIRS, THE ROOM WAS EMPTY. Samara and Xtina weren’t here, but that was a relief. Tabitha threw herself on her bed and closed her eyes. If only she could forget this awful day and Daniil Andreev.

No such luck.

It was bad enough that her skating had been subpar, but now she was jealous! She, who always played it safe, and knew that if she ever let a guy get under her skin he would be nothing like Daniil.

He wasn’t her type at all. Okay, he was good looking, she’d give him that. Make that great-looking with male model-perfect features, a killer smile and those gorgeous dark rock star eyes. A voice flavored with an accent as sexy as sin. He had a body to die for. He was muscular, but not bulging. Lean and hard, in the way male skaters were. Lean in the way Tabitha liked. If she paid attention to such things.

Arrgh. Of course she paid attention to them. Even if she was Little Miss Wholesome who could count on one hand the number of guys she’d kissed. But Daniil wasn’t wholesome. He was edgy. He was intriguing. And now he was off with two girls who were hot, willing and no doubt, a much better time than Tabitha.

She kicked off her shoes and settled in for a night of TV, flipping through channels. There was The Sound of Music, with Julie Andrews as a singing nun, falling for a man she had no business falling for. There was Grease, which she’d watched dozens of times with her mom and Samara. If her sister’s varied career had earned her the role of Beauty School Dropout, Tabitha was prim and proper Sandy. There was figure skating, too. She could watch her crappy program and Machiko’s perfect one. What had Daniil’s little blond friend said? “It’s good that you tried.” Tabitha sneered, and kept scrolling through channels finding nothing, until—

Oh my God, they have porn.

She’d never seen one. Wholesome types who didn’t drink, swear or rat their hair didn’t watch movies like this. But she was stuck here, so why the hell not?

Backstage at some rock club, a bleached blond with too-plump lips, a fake tan and huge boobs sat atop a black amplifier. Her cut-off blue jeans were so short the pockets stuck out, and her tiny white t-shirt looked ready to rip under the strain. A dark-haired dude in black leather pants and guyliner— seriously?—loomed over her in a way that was kind of menacing and kind of hot at the same time.

Tabitha scooted closer to the TV.

He ran his hands over Blondie’s thighs, then her crotch, and lifted her t-shirt to let her melon-sized breasts bounce free. He latched his mouth over her nipple; she writhed against the speaker. Tabitha writhed too and deep in her core, a pleasant weight settled.

Blondie moaned. “Oh Rod, I want you to fuck me so fucking hard.”

Rod—what else would his name be?—stopped sucking long enough to grunt out his lines. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard Baby, your pussy’ll fucking scream for fucking mercy. You’ll beg for my cock, you wet, horny bitch.”

Who talked like that? Were the Birthday Girl and Daniil saying stuff like that to each other? Did people really do it on amps, backstage? She could always ask Fiona though her mother’s wild groupie days weren’t something she wanted to dwell on while watching this.

But it bothered her that she didn’t know. She had even less experience with rock clubs than she had with kisses. Three. One for each year she’d been in her twenties. And never backstage.

Pathetic.

Rod and Blondie were naked now, and Blondie took his enormous, well, rod, into her mouth. He thrust deep, grasping her hair in his hands. Tabitha couldn’t take her eyes off the screen.

Then the room door opened. Samara and Xtina sauntered in and Tabitha lunged for the remote. Instead, she accidentally knocked the damn thing on the floor.

“Holy shit! The World’s Oldest Virgin celebrates her bronze medal by watching porn!” Samara dropped her shopping bags and whipped out her phone to snap a photo.

Flopped on her stomach, Tabitha groped for the missing remote. “Samara, if you post that, I swear to God, I will murder you!”

“Instagram?” Xtina asked.

“Not even Snapchat. Relax, Sis.” Samara tossed her phone to Tabitha, then retrieved the remote and took a seat at the foot of the bed. Tabitha scrolled through the photos. Thank God, the incriminating one was gone.

Xtina joined them. She fished a large, colorful canister from one of her shopping bags, and scooped out a handful of caramel cheese popcorn as she stared at the screen. “Emo Boy kind of looks like that hot Russian guy we saw in the lobby.”

Tabitha jerked her gaze away from the movie. “You saw Daniil?”

Samara narrowed her eyes. “You know him?”

Her face flushed hot. “He’s a skater. I talked to him at the reception.”

“And?” Samara pinched caramel corn from the tin.

“And nothing. He left and went to a bar with two women. Who look kind of like her.” Tabitha nodded at Blondie.

“So you came up here to watch porn all by yourself.”

“I know. I’m pathetic.”

“No you aren’t! He is! I mean, he was talking to you, and then took off with a pair of skanks?”

“It wasn’t like that. They were just employees from one of the vendor booths. And he invited me to come to the bar with them.”

“But you said no?” Samara’s voice rose. “Why?”

Tabitha sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.” They turned back to the TV. Rod and Blondie were going at it hard.

“It’s not too late,” Samara said. “Do you know the name of the bar?”

Tabitha nodded. “But one of the women said it wasn’t my kind of place. I’m sure she’s right. I’m the Ice Queen. The World’s Oldest Virgin.”

“Hey.” Samara put a comforting hand on Tabitha’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re after something so much bigger than just hooking up with random dudes.”

“And after you win your gold medal, the dudes will be there,” added Xtina.

“I suppose.” It was small consolation for how lonely she felt tonight.

Then Samara rose from the bed, and studied Tabitha, her brow knitted. “What if you went to this bar, not as you, but as someone else?”

“Like in disguise? Are you insane? What if someone recognized me? They’d put it online, it would go viral, and I’d never live it down.”

“No one will recognize you. Xtina was the best student in our class at Wilshire Beauty Academy. And even though I dropped out, I still do a kick-ass cat eye.”

Her sister’s dark dramatic eyes were proof of that. Xtina dug a new anime wig from one of her shopping bags. She settled the synthetic electric blue hair piece on Tabitha’s head and arranged the heavy fringe of bangs over her eyes. “White shimmer lipstick?” Xtina asked.

“Definitely,” Samara agreed.

Tabitha rose and went to the mirror, pushing the stray locks that had escaped from her bun out of sight. Samara’s black leather jacket hung on the back of a chair. Tabitha slipped it over her silk blouse. With her hair hidden, and someone else’s clothes, she looked nothing like herself.

The idea of venturing where she felt so out of place was terrifying. She turned back to her sister and her friend. “But I can’t just walk into a bar by myself and lure him away from the Sex Twins.”

“We’ll come with you,” Samara said. “He has no idea who we are. We’re just women out at a bar. He’s a guy out at a bar. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

“Who knows what might happen,” said Xtina.

Xtina was right. Who knew what might happen? Which, of course, was the problem. These two might be cool with throwing caution to the wind, but Tabitha wasn’t. Not to mention that she was a semi-celebrity with a carefully crafted image to protect. An image that would be destroyed if anyone saw through her disguise.

But there were times she felt like a slave to that image, and to skating. She’d missed so much. College. Friendships. Relationships. And while she’d be free to pursue them after her skating career was over, it was hard not to feel life was passing her by.

She didn’t want to wait until skating was over. She wanted an adventure tonight. And she wanted Daniil Andreev to be part of it.

She studied her reflection again, envisioning herself transformed by Xtina and Samara’s handiwork. Goth eyes and blue hair. Sexy rocker-girl clothes. Just a woman out on a Saturday night. A woman looking for a good time, and a man eager to show her one.

Who knew what might happen, indeed.

As crazy as it sounded, this might even help her skating. She wouldn’t feel so tense, so damn restless. She’d set the Ice Queen aside for a night, have a little fun with figure skating’s bad boy, and then get back to work. With focus where it belonged, there’d be no stopping her. If Peter were here, he’d certainly approve.

She turned back to her sister and Xtina. Her smile grew wider. “Who’s up for a party?”