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“Yeah, that her singing?”
I nod. I’ve never heard her sing before, but I already know that’s her voice and my hard on is back with a vengeance. All the blood from my extremities and my brain pools in my dick, making the hallway soft around the edges of my peripheral vision as the world seems to lose its gravitational pull, because my feet don’t feel like they are touching the ground anymore.
We step into the doorway and my heart nearly stops. She’s curled up with her knees inside the Jersey I gave her before the game, facing the wall. Her hair is tucked up inside a Savages hockey helmet, while Tracey the concierge sits behind her in an upholstered chair with her head back, hand clasped on her belly, eyes closed as the sound of my stepsister’s voice transports her into paradise.
Or, wait, maybe that’s where it transports me, but Tracey sure looks like she’s gone somewhere damn fine as well.
“Wow,” Rodney says in an awestruck tone. “That sound is coming from that little girl? What is she, like, twelve?”
“Shut up. She’s twenty.” I correct as he takes a sidestep away. “She’s legal.”
“Man, I don’t need to know she’s legal, unless you want me to date her, or fu—”
I ram my fist into his chest before he can finish. His brow furrows and a red haze casts over my vision. “Don’t even look at her.”
“Bro, fuck off. What’s your fucking issue? I’m not going to touch your sister, I was fucking talking shit.” Rodney pushes me back. “Like we always do.”
“Well, no shit talking about her.”
Our conversation has ended her serenade and both Tracey and Nancy are staring at us. Nancy’s little face is framed by the blue plastic of the helmet and the white bars of the face guard criss cross her delicate features.
A few little blonde ringlets sneak out the sides and back but the helmet is loose on her head, so when she turns to look it wobbles, making her look like the world’s cutest bobble head.
“Thanks, Tracey.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet, slipping a Benjamin into the pocket of her blue Savages blazer. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Thank you, Mr. White. I took good care of her. Offered to get her whatever she wanted, but she declined. Politely. Said she’s a little tired.” Tracey leans toward my ear as Nancy untucks her legs from under the massive jersey and pushes up with a cute little grunt to stand. “Think she wasn’t feeling great, got her some water, but she wouldn’t let me call you. Maybe she got sick earlier. In the suite.”
“Thanks, I’ll take it from here. You can be done for tonight. You did good,” I say, already stepping toward Nancy. “Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”
I stuff my fingertips through the face grid and connect with her forehead which feels…normal.
I have some experience with that sort of thing, with my two younger brothers. I sat with them through plenty of fevers and flus over the years while Mom was working, but I never felt this sort of panic before.
“I’m fine.” She tugs her head to the side, the helmet wobbling against her cheeks. “Probably just the habanero wings I ate. Didn’t agree with me. I told Tracey not to fuss.”
Rodney steps to my side, looking her up and down with a smile and that irrational anger feels like flames licking at my ankles and burning their way up to my balled fists.
All those smiles are mine, motherfucker, I want to say, but a split second of pause makes me re-think twisting my best friend’s head from his shoulders for looking at her.
“I’m Rodney,” he finally says as I stand there like a mute, the rumbling growl in my chest drawing Nancy’s gaze. “Since your big brother here isn’t going to introduce us himself. I’m his friend, I play guard.”
“Hi. I’m Nancy. The new sister.” She looks so motherfucking cute in my jersey and that stupid helmet I’m damn near creaming my jeans.
“Okay, that’s enough. Time for you to go.” I turn Rodney by the shoulders toward the door as he snorts on a laugh, grabbing the door jamb as I shove him out into the hall.
Rodney gives her a wink, then ducks as I take a swing at his head. “I think he’s taking some drugs! And not the good ones!”
“Get gone.”
He mock stumbles on a dramatic gasp, then breaks into a run down the hall toward the parking garage, singing A/C’s Back in Black as I try to steady myself, considering I wanted to gouge out my best friend’s eyeballs with a fork just for looking at her.
“Nice.”
“Yeah. He’s fine.”
“Fine.” She bobs her eyebrows, stepping toward the door and leaning out to watch Rodney disappear down the hall.
