“Are you recording Dana?”
“Nah. Your granny’s doing shots off the Finn’s naked chest.”
“I don’t see guys like you in the retirement home!” Granny Murray whoops.
“That’s how she got kicked out for sucking dick in the lobby.” Harlowe downs several shots.
“Ah, shoot, Gran,” Ellie yells. “Gran! Stop licking my players!”
21
ELLIE
“Do I get a thank-you or what?” Harlowe preens as we walk through the Costco toy aisle.
“Don’t you think you should wait until we win a couple more games?”
“No, because what if you don’t? We need to ink these deals while we still can. If Tangerine wants to design a pink purse in your honor, who are we to say no? Also,” she adds, “Drew Barrymore wants you on the show.”
“I feel bad you’re taking on so many of my PR duties,” I worry. “I should take them back.”
“No way.” Harlowe shoves me. “You know how much free swag people are sending me? I got the new limited-edition Mariah Carey vinyl. There’s a kitchen set from Platinum Provisions—the pink one that they sent me to put in our PR—and Bath and Body Works is talking about hockey-themed candles. Ooh, we need to make one that smells like Fletcher.”
“No one wants that,” I say hastily. “I don’t know how you could make a candle smell like sweaty male hockey player.”
“Yeah, maybe that is gross.”
“I mean, it’s not supergross, just, like, musky, like truffles or something. Aren’t those supposed to smell like that?” I ramble. “Like, sort of animalistic smelling. I mean, I’d take a candle that smelled like that. Do you think that Cookie will like stuffed animals?”
Harlowe opens her mouth then closes it. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Probably should do some Legos.” I scoop some smaller boxes into the cart.
“Friends are supposed to tell each other everything.”
“I don’t know what else there is to say… Do you mean about my dad?”
“Screw your dad. He’s jelly of your success.” Harlowe snatches the Marvel action figure out of my hand, throws it into the cart, and grabs my shoulders.
“You slept with him.”
“Uh, no I didn’t. Who? What? You roomed with me. I didn’t bring anyone back to our room.”
Harlowe scoffs. “I don’t know, maybe you did it in the locker room.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Fletcher.” She’s on her phone. “I should have known by the way he was looking at you after the match.”
“After the—you’re delusional!”
Harlowe sticks her phone in my face.
“Besides, I told you he doesn’t want me. He wants Dana.”
“Dana’s a goddess among men. She’s not messing up her blowout for a man who doesn’t even own his own car.”
“I think he was just—” I think back to last night, the way Fletcher leaned in, his breath cool against my mouth, the silvery eyes almost blue in the pulsing light from the club. “He was drunk. He didn’t want me.”
