Chapter 4 Misty #3
“Not exactly.” He leans in. “Don’t tell your granny, but just between us, I’m fucking your sister.” His voice lowers. “But I’d rather be fucking you.”
Brielle probably thinks I didn’t hear it, but I did. My face burns. The Canal Club is a historic building, and the ballroom was designed back before there were sound systems. The acoustics are on point.
“Your fiancé giving you a hard time?” Talbot moves in closer to her, just a thin layer of air between them.
Great. The fake boyfriend I’m paying my entire fucking life savings for is more interested in my sister than me.
Classic.
I grab a plate from the buffet. I know Brielle is high off the fact that she barely had to flip her hair and my date is all over her. At least it’s gotten her to stop complaining about the buffet.
I scoop potato croquettes onto my plate. And almost bump right into Austen’s mother.
Well-heeled, from an old New England family—she is obviously not impressed with the buffet, the author of Brielle’s anger.
“Hi, Bunny.” I try to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. Austen’s mom intimidates me. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Austen’s mother looks me up and down, her mouth screwed up. “You really let yourself go, Misty. Do they have anything here other than carbs?”
“There are prawns.”
She sniffs and hands me her empty plate. “I suppose I have to drink wine. Hopefully you have something palatable.”
Now Talbot is talking to Brielle about Austen and asking her about her hotel room, if they’re gonna be there all night or if she’s gonna go party with her girls.
“You have to. There’s the hot springs here. You and those girls in skimpy little numbers. I’m sure you have a white bathing suit somewhere.” He’s practically licking her neck.
“Well, I do have my bridal lingerie. That’s almost like a swimsuit.”
“Post pictures on Instagram for me.” He pulls out his phone. “What’s your handle? I want livestreams. That way, they won’t take you down when there’s a little pink rosebud in the frame.” The backs of his knuckles barely graze her chest.
“Um, no,” Sienna mutters darkly behind me right as I stuff a mini lobster puff in my mouth.
The salty gravy explodes on my tongue. “I don’t know why Brielle is complaining about the buffet. Warming trays keep the food hot.” I fan my mouth. “And who doesn’t like carbs?”
“Seriously, you’re eating?” Sienna demands.
“What else can I do?” I say sadly. “Also, where’s all that wine we ordered?” I grab Sienna’s glass.
“I don’t know, maybe remind that asshole that you spent your hard-earned money on him.
He didn’t even show up dressed. Did he even shower?
And now he’s just ignoring you so he can schmooze the party and feel up your stepsister.
We’re going to go talk to him.” Sienna marches over to Talbot before I can stop her.
“Excuse me.”
“Damn, girl. Misty, don’t tell me—she’s another one of your hot sisters?” Talbot’s gaze rakes over my pretty friend.
I feel like a slug.
“She’s not, but I’m her hot granny. Not to be confused with Spamela the imposter over there.
” Granny Keagan latches onto Talbot’s muscled arm.
“Spam’s husband ran out on her. Went to Palm Springs and got a boyfriend.
He couldn’t take it anymore. Can’t blame him.
Poor sod was done with women. She tells everyone he died in a house fire, but she’s a liar who’s never had an orgasm. ”
Gran peers at Talbot. “I’m going to ask my granddaughter for a report about you tomorrow morning. Now, Misty, point me to the good stuff. I’m drinking on Ryan’s dime.”
“Disgusting old woman.” Brielle takes Talbot’s arm. “Let me introduce you to some actually interesting people.”
I sigh. “I should have ordered mac and cheese bites.”
“You can’t let her win,” Sienna hisses. “She does this. She always does this.”
I poke sadly at my plate. “These Scottish eggs are good, though. My mom wants to decorate the house this weekend. I’m thinking, like, a Frosty the Snowman theme. That would be fun for the kids, right?”
Sienna is livid. “You played hockey on the women’s national team. Where the hell is that girl?”
“At least Talbot’s stopped flirting with Brielle. Now he seems more interested in talking to all the NHL superstars and hopefuls.”
“Seriously, what kind of lame party is this?” I hear his deep voice boom out. “I thought you guys were the NHL. What the hell. We partied harder than this in the barracks on a Tuesday night after a fifteen-mile march.”
“This is a nice, elegant holiday-themed engagement party,” I cry. “Why does everyone think my party’s bad?”
“Any party without strippers sucks.” Granny Keagan boos.
Talbot jumps up on a table. “Shots! You guys are the best fucking hockey players on the planet. Fucking act like it!”
“Oh yeah, here we go! Par-tay!” Granny Keagan hollers, holding up bottles of tequila.
“You guys just won a fucking game against Philly,” Talbot whoops out over the crowd.
People cheer drunkenly.
“The man, the myth, the legend! Austen Langley, get up here, man.”
The NHL players sing the Boston fight song. “Speech! Speech! Speech!” they thunder.
“Brielle.” He holds out a hand to her. “I’ve played a lot of games in my life—big ones, tough ones, even some I thought I couldn’t win.
But nothing has ever meant more to me than this moment, right here, with you.
I’ve taken hits, made comebacks, and scored some goals I’m proud of—but somehow, you’re the one thing I never saw coming.
You’re my teammate in the truest sense. You calm the chaos, cheer the loudest, and you’ve stuck by me—even when I’m grumpy after a bad loss or tracking snow into the house. ”
My heart hurts. “That’s almost word-for-word the same speech he gave at our engagement party.”
“I actually Googled it, and it’s something he found on the internet,” Sienna says darkly.
“Oh.” I stare down at my toes, pinched in the heels. I got dressed up for nothing.
“And you look hot as fuck doing it,” Austen adds and tips Brielle over for a movie-ending kiss.
“That part wasn’t in the speech at the last party, though.” My engagement party wasn’t nearly as nice. I paid for it myself. It was in a park. I did not want to ask Ryan for money and risk the wrath of his mom and sister.
“Shots!” Granny Keagan parades around a tray of tequila shots. They’re bright red with white salt on the rim, garnished by a little sprig of rosemary. “They’re very festive.”
Sienna takes two. “I’m not going to survive this.”
Now Talbot has somehow convinced all the hockey players to hoist the girls up on their shoulders, and he’s leading them in some drinking game.
“Ugh, Austen’s going to be wasted and hungover tomorrow. I need to make sure there’s some soup ready for him,” I fret at the buffet table. “I should make him eat something now, though.”
Sienna sighs loudly and knocks back another shot of the holiday tequila.
“Don’t pay that idiot the rest of the money. He hasn’t earned it. Use it to move to Paris or London or literally anywhere that’s not near Austen.”
“We’re supposed to clear out of the Canal Club at one a.m.,” I announce loudly to the hockey players and the WAGs.
They ignore me.
The party is completely off the rails.
Talbot hooked up his phone to the sound system, and instead of the elegant, jazzy Christmas carols, there’s pulsing rap music—uncensored, mind you—blasting out in the ballroom.
“I just know we’re going to get a noise complaint,” I worry.
“Fuck, Misty, are you always such a buzzkill?” Talbot does some sort of complicated club dance that involves a lot of grabbing his crotch.
“Yeah, she always is.” Brielle tips the bottle of rum up to his mouth.
Talbot takes a long swallow.
“Fuck yeah,” he slurs, tipping forward, almost against her mouth.
“Wooo.” I shake my fist limply. “That was a great party, but we have to be out or we lose the deposit.”
“Fuck it.” Austen smashes an empty bottle on the inlaid parquet floor and scratches his belly. “We’ll party in my room.”
“Not you,” Talbot slurs to Brielle so only she and I can hear. “I’m gonna fuck you in a hot tub.” He grabs her ass as she giggles. The rest of the hockey players are too drunk to notice.
“C’mon, man.” One of the defensemen drapes an arm around Talbot’s shoulders.
“Naw, I need to get my dick wet, then I’m coming up to party.”
He’s sloppy drunk as his hand fumbles around my breasts in the crowded elevator. “Fuck, I need another drink. You gonna let me do shots out of your pussy?” he brays loudly as we get out on one of the lower floors.
I wince. Grandma Pam is on my floor. “Quiet!”
He gives the elevator the finger. The hockey players all whoop as Talbot chugs the bottle of vodka in his hand.
“I think you’ve had enough.” I try to take it from him.
“I can still get it up, baby.” He nuzzles my ear, and he reeks of expensive alcohol. All of his drunken weight is on me.
“Your granny gave me the riot act,” he whispers as we stumble down the hall to the room.
A door opens. Grandma Pam pokes her head out.
Aunt Kathy is peering out of another.
“We’re fine! Everything’s fine,” I tell them desperately.
“Does your mother know you’re taking a man back to your room?” Aunt Kathy demands.
“No, she does not.” Talbot almost pitches over. He stumbles and knocks loudly on a door. “Mr. West! Mr. West!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. “Mr. and Mrs. West, please come to the door.”
“What are you doing?” I shriek at him. “Don’t wake them up.”
“Never mind. Misty doesn’t want me to wake you up.”
The door opens, and my mom and stepfather are standing there, blinking, in their pajamas.
Talbot almost pitches forward. “Sir and ma’am. Ma’ams,” he slurs. “There are two of you in there.” His cheeks bulge. He claps a hand over his mouth and takes a swig from the bottle.
“I just need t- inform you I’ve been told that in order to fuck your d-daughter, I need your permission. If tha’s okay.”
“She’s a grown adult.”
“Ryan!” His mother’s shocked.
“Misty,” my mom hisses, “what has gotten into you?”
I tuck my shoulders under one of Talbot’s arms, trying to prop the huge man up.
He’s listing. “Can I, sir?”
Ryan laughs. “I don’t think you’re up for it, but sure, give it a try.”
“Ryan!” My mother swats his arm.
He makes a helpless gesture. “You had a teenage daughter when you were her age…”
Their door shuts.
“I will be watching this hallway, young lady.” Pamela’s nostrils flare. “And I will call the police if there is any more unsavory behavior.”
“Yep, totally, so sorry about this, Grandma Pam. Have a restful evening.”
I grab the keys from Talbot, who’s trying to put the key in the lock upside down.
“We’re just going to go on to bed.”
“I’ma be honest witchu… think I’m gonna throw up.”
“Ooh, okay, let’s get you inside.”
I shut the door as Talbot stumbles into my hotel suite then rest my forehead against the back of the door.
“What the hell have I done?” I whisper, trying not to cry. “How has my life, that was so pathetic and awful and unmanageable, gotten even worse? I’m literally not going to survive this holiday season.”
I thunk my head a few times on the door.
Breathe.
Make a list. Check it twice.
Let’s get Talbot a bucket and some ice chips. Maybe there’s still food downstairs. I can change my shoes, sneak by Grandma Pam, and get him to sober up. I’ll send him on his way tomorrow. Sienna is right. I need to man up. I am not paying him the rest of the money. Not when he’s drunk as a—
My breath catches when I turn around.
Talbot’s standing in the middle of the room, twisting off his jacket.
And he’s stone-cold sober.