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“Yo, Boomer. How’d you pull that fine piece of ass?”
My head whips around to where Ludkettle is skating past as I give Vassar a hand up from the ice.
Obviously there’s nothing incriminating out there, but Lara and I spend enough time together that pictures surfacing was inevitable. I don’t love it. Mostly for her. But until now?—
“Ignore it,” Vassar grunts, back on his blades.
“Right.” Head in the g?—
“Doesn’t look like your usual fare. Not the type to exchange favors for cash. Or is she?”
We’re lining up again. Vassar doesn’t look back when he repeats, “Ignore it.”
Right. I’m going to. Because my head is in this fucking game.
Only thing, Ludkettle saw me flinch, and the next three periods he runs his mouth. Most of the shit misses its mark completely. But some?—
“Girl like that deserves better than some fuck boy one stubbed toe away from washing out of the league…”
“She know how many skanks have taken a ride on that filthy stick of yours…”
“Everybody knows…”
“Least with that rancid nut she won’t have to worry ’bout you knocking her up…”
“Maybe I’ll take a turn with her…”
—Yeah, some of his chirpy bullshit hit a nerve I didn’t know I had.
15
Lara
Wait a minute, I already read this paragraph. Didn’t I?
I get up from the table and stretch out my back and shoulders, both protesting after being hunched over my laptop for the last several hours.
Days? Weeks? It feels like I’ve been fine-tuning this presentation for the Alexi B account forever.
I should call it quits for the night, trust in the fact that I’ve done my job right and it’s ready to go to my boss.
It was ready before Ben left for his game tonight. Ready when I checked the score and saw they were down by one at the first period. Ready when I checked again and saw they won by two, but Ben had spent enough time in the penalty box to merit a mention. And still ready an hour later, when he quietly let himself in, suit jacket folded over his arm, a kind of wired look in his eyes as he pulled me in for a hug and told me he was going to bed.
How long ago was that?
My finger hovers over the send button.
Click it.
It’s ready.
It is.
I bite my lip.
Maybe just one more pass.
I’m scrolling up to the top when I hear Ben’s deep voice rumbling from his room.
