Page 10 of Lucky Puck

BRODY

She gives me a withering stare. Or it would be withering if she didn’t look like temptation in a pin-striped suit. Even if the suit’s out of fashion. I only know this because my sister is a total fashion diva or fashionista, or whatever. But it doesn’t matter because the way the skirt stretches across Brooks’ ass as she goes up on tiptoes to look through the peephole makes me stare all the same.

I drag my eyes away because that kind of unbridled admiration for the opposite sex—especially the untouchable Brooks—is what got me into this mess. I check my watch—or rather my empty wrist because, of course, she—what was her name, Star Baby? The lady from last night took my watch along with everything else.

Except this damn wedding band. I glance at my hand with the shiny gold ring.

Man, oh man. I swipe a hand through my hair. This is one nasty shit show.

I wish I never came to Vegas. Not even for All-Star weekend because now I’m going to humiliate myself for being the rookie phenom who couldn’t handle his liquor or a woman and ended up late for the game. And possibly married.

She opens the door, and Sabien stands there—but only for a blink because she yanks him inside the room like someone’s watching.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I would ask you the same thing,” he says, flicking a glance at me, “but it’s obvious⁠—”

“Don’t even think that,” she says as if he suggested she spent the night with a pair of goats.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“That’s a reasonable question, but I can’t go into details. You’ll have to take my word⁠—”

I interrupt. “The chick I took back to my room last night stole my clothes and just about everything else—except my phone. She would have got that too except it was under my pillow⁠—”

“I told you we need to keep this quiet,” Brooks says in a low voice, sounding a bit frustrated, or maybe more like if she had a gun, I’d have a hole in my heart about now.

“Sabien, you know Ms. Bianca Brooks with the Jett Agency?” I say this knowing he’s met her before, at least in passing, and if he weren’t already good and truly hooked by his bride and their baby, he’d be as impressed with her as I am.

He nods. “Of course. I work with Jett. Top notch agency.” He turns back to me and states the obvious. “Kid, we need to get you some clothes.”

“The clothes are on their way,” Brooks says, her arms folded across her chest in self-satisfaction. Sabien nods in approval.

“So what the fuck happened?” he says to me and then darts a sheepish glance at Brooks. “Pardon my language⁠—”

“No need to worry. I think an f-bomb here and there is quite appropriate for the situation.”

I laugh, and damn if she isn’t even more irresistible when she drops the professional-agent-in-charge act and gets real. She watches me expectantly for what I’m going to say in response, whether I’m going to hold back or tell everything to my friend.

I hold up my ring finger to show Sabien the wedding band. His brows shoot to the top of his forehead faster than a slapshot, and he blasts out a whistle.

“Fuck man. What did you do?”

“I had too much to drink and brought the wrong lady back to my room. She stole all my things and took off. And I ended up with this wedding band. Though I’m not exactly sure how.”

Brooks interrupts. “You said you never left the room, right?”

I nod. “Some things are fuzzy, but I remember refusing to leave the room. The details of our conversation are fuzzy.”

“So you’re not married, then?”

“Probably not, but the real problem is I can’t get the damn ring off my finger, so it looks a lot like I am.”

“You know…,” Brooks says, tapping her lush lips with her index finger. “I think we can eliminate that problem—at least until we can get to a jeweler to have the ring removed.”

“How?” I notice the throbbing in my head has dimmed to a manageable beat, and I’m prepared to give Brooks a big hug in gratitude if she can do something about hiding the ring.

“We can disguise the ring with a band-aid.” She smiles and rummages through her bag.