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Danielle twice cleared her throat. "That's a little extreme, Lucia. I think just a strip tease—."
Lucia set the hook. "Hey everybody, Danielle's a chicken shit coward! Come on girlfriend, take the bet. If I lose I'll blow Keith first. It's gonna happen sooner or later anyway so you might as well watch me do it. You might learn a trick or two."
Danielle leaped up gunning for Lucia; Keith grabbed her.
"I'll take your bet, you fucking slut," Danielle screamed, flailing against her boyfriend. "Loser sucks cock. Maple Leafs' haven't got a fucking chance."
"Flames are a bunch of limp dicks," answered Lucia just as loud. "And their fans."
Lucia pranced like a wild mustang as I corralled her into the kitchen.
"God this is fun," she said. "Do I have that bitch's number or what? Did you see the look on her face?"
I'd seen some outrageous wagers, but this one had me nearly speechless. "Lucia, the Flames might win." It was lame, but I could think of nothing else to say.
Lucia leaned against a counter, cracked open a beer, took a long pull, and stared at me like she was looking through bars into a padded cell. "No, they won't, and I'll get to watch Danielle choke on cock. But so what, hypothetically speaking, if they do? I have to suck a few dicks. It's not like I haven't done that before." Another pull half-emptied the bottle. "Michael, hon, don't look so concerned, it's my mouth. Besides, you've got a blow job coming no matter what."
I was considering Lucia's last statement when Keith barreled into the kitchen. "Lucia," he said. "Please tell me you're drunk?"
Lucia curtsied. "No, sir, just comfortably buzzed. Your pet's trying to weasel out, isn't she?"
"No, she's not," Keith said. "All I can say is you've gored her ox one time too many. Michael, keep a leash on this one. Better keep 'em apart until the game's over, then we'll talk."
Most of the guys streaming in for beer and food were polite to the point of awkwardness. Some just stared at Lucia. One asshole named Nelson asked her to open her mouth to see if it was big enough for his dick. Lucia flipped him off.
Waiting for the OT play, Lucia ran through the rules for my benefit. No ties were allowed. The teams would play a five minute overtime period. If the overtime period ended in a tie, the teams would go to a shootout. If the shootout ended in a tie, a sudden death shootout would decide the matter, with the team scoring first the winner.
The score remained 0 -- 0 after the overtime period. The game cut away to truck commercials.
The 0 -- 0 tie held at the end of the first shootout. More commercials.
Danielle paced behind the sofa, pale as a ghost and snarling at anyone who approached. Lucia bounced her knees and choked her beer. Sweat gleamed on her temples.
"You OK?" I asked.
"Hold my hand."
The sudden death play started and you could have heard a butterfly sneeze. The Flames drew first shot. The referee blew his whistle, sending the Flames' player toward the Maple Leafs' goal . . . puck deflected.
Here and there people groaned and Lucia squeezed my hand. Her pulse vibrated against my skin.
The first Maple Leafs' shooter swooped in on the Flames goalie and fired . . . puck smothered.
"Shit," muttered Lucia.
The Flame's second shooter launched himself at the Maple Leafs goal, gathered speed, whipped his stick . . . puck in the net.
Game over.
1 -- 0 Calgary Flames.
Keith's crew jumped to their feet, yelling, back slapping, punching fists into the air. Danielle screamed the loudest.
Lucia stared at the television like a spotlighted doe, her hand slack and clammy.
Danielle pranced over. "Hey loser, are you ready to suck?" She demonstrated on the neck of her beer bottle.
Keith interjected. "Hold on, people. Let's go have a powwow."
