17. Lisa
Lisa
It’s the morning of our fundraiser for Punchline, and Andi has officially lost her mind.
She’s running around her condo, starting and stopping things halfway, muttering to herself as she goes.
I try my best to follow after her and assist as much as possible, though her half-finished orders and multitasking make it difficult.
At one point, she’s so busy posting to social media that she runs into a chair in the kitchen.
With a curse, she drops her phone and rubs her hip.
“All right, you’ve lost your phone privileges.
Give me that.” I duck down to retrieve her phone and read the post out loud.
“No tricks, just jabs. Halloween hits different at Punchline. Don’t forget to join us in the ring for tonight’s fundraiser event.
” I look up and grin at her. “Good one, Andi. I can’t wait to see what kind of engagement we get tonight. ”
“Thanks, babe!” She beams at me, even as she rubs her hip. “I always wonder why I wake up with random bruises. I guess I have the answer.”
“Is that what those are from? I get them too, and I always thought I was just a wild sleeper.”
“I was thinking tiny little leprechauns were kicking me in my sleep.”
I laugh. “Angry fairies sound way more exciting than just having poor depth perception.”
“Oh, well.” Andi laughs and gives her hip one final rub. “I guess we can take the first load out to my car. Can you take that box?”
I eye the box dubiously. It’s filled to the brim with beer and jars of pickles. “Not to question your shopping list, but…do we really need this many pickles?”
This, of all my questions this morning, causes her to skid to a dead-stop. “I don’t think you truly understand the love between a midwesterner and their pickle beer.”
I blink. “I suppose I don’t.”
“Seriously, girl, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” She adjusts an orange streamer in her box. “Back where I’m from in Wisconsin, that with some cheese curds is as close as you’ll get to heaven.”
A ding from her phone saves me from replying. I glance at it. “Grant wants to know if Nils can tag along tonight. He said his plans fell through.”
Andi is already halfway out the door with her box of decorations. “Answer and tell him yes!” she calls back at me, reminding me of her passcode. “As long as Nils agrees to wear the same stuff as Grant and Benji.”
I type out the response and scurry after her with the offending box of beer and pickles. “What are you making them wear?”
“Well, they need to bring their hockey sticks to play with any kiddos that show up. And they need to wear their Leopards logo, from head to toe. Their beanies, their jerseys, and gray sweatpants.”
“Do they even have branded sweatpants?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Not sure. But I do know there’s nothing that gets me going quite like a man in gray sweatpants.”
I may question her taste in drinks, but she’s got a point with that one.
Andi and I spend two hours before the event decorating, setting up games, putting out merchandise, organizing the raffles and ensuring the prizes are safely tucked away for their future winners.
By the time the event is actually underway, my skeleton onesie is already damp with sweat, and I haven’t even kicked off our impromptu boxing tournament.
People begin to file in, filling the space to near-capacity, and my nerves grow as my personal space shrinks. I wander my way over to the silent auction tables we’ve set up, scanning the items. Andi said we’d gotten some great donations, but hadn’t specified what they were.
I spot a piece of artwork someone donated, a beautiful landscape photograph of a lake.
The angle is positioned just so that a few rocks dot the bottom of the photo, with lush trees peeking in at the right corner.
The sun is dipping under the horizon, winking narrow beams of light over the water as it goes down.
The lake itself is glacially still, looking more like an expanse of glass than water.
Even the bird floating in the middle of the lake is still, without so much as a ripple around it.
The moment captured feels serene, like I’ve been placed in someone’s vulnerable memory.
I’m immediately drawn to it. I put in the first bid, adding a cool hundred dollars to the minimum to ensure my win.
I make a mental note to keep checking in as the night goes on.
I secretly hope I get into a bidding war, so that Paul can’t claim I’m just tossing money his way.
“Isn’t this amazing?” Andi appears next to me, and when I glance over, she’s nearly airborne with excitement.
She’s wearing a 70’s workout costume, and her curls go flying as she bounces happily, restrained only by the neon blue sweatband drawn across her forehead.
I just know her blue leotard and hot pink leggings will send Grant into a frenzy.
“Grant’s going to lose his mind seeing you in this,” I say. “I hope his sweatpants can contain all that excitement you’re going to cause.”
Andi flushes and gives a triumphant laugh. “Don’t worry, we gave it a test run the other night. He’ll behave today.” She winks and gestures around her neck. “The sweatband may have ended up on him.”
“Argh!” I hold my hands up. “Need-to-know basis, Andi. That was not a need-to-know.”
She laughs harder, and dissolves into a shriek as the man in question appears behind her, swooping her into his arms. Their energy is contagious, and I grin as I take them in.
I glance over to see Nils and Benji have entered as well, standing back and smiling at the two lovebirds.
I have to admit, Andi’s rules for their wardrobe are doing wonders for these athletes.
They look like the perfect combination of sporty-professional, the Leopards jerseys marking them as members of one of the most prestigious teams in the area.
And those gray sweatpants? Damn, Andi made the right choice.
My eyes wander down Benji’s body, my gaze freezing on his lower half. My thighs clench together as I allow my imagination to run wild, thoughts drifting to the little I haven’t already seen of Benji’s chiseled body.
As Andi drops back to her feet, my mind is jerked back to the present. What are you doing? I scold myself, my eyes darting back up to Benji’s face. He’s giving me a knowing grin, and heat floods my cheeks as I realize I’ve been caught ogling him at a public event.
“Come on, you guys,” Andi says. “I want you to meet Paul!”
She drags Grant by the hand, and the others follow behind. I don’t miss the wink Benji sends my way as he walks after the group. My cheeks are near-burning at this point.
News has clearly spread about the local celebrities.
Most of the eyes follow them as they approach Paul and shake his hand.
I sidle up to Bella, giving her a squeeze.
She’s wearing a Wonder Woman costume that’s less revealing than most, but still gives her ample cleavage.
The gold, red, and blue of the costume pop against the deep bronze of her skin, and her thick black curls fall elegantly down her shoulders.
I give her a purposeful once-over and grin.
“Damn, girl. You’re about to break some hearts tonight. ”
“Pfft,” she replies with a wave of her hand, but I don’t miss the blush that tinges her cheeks.
“I plan on going bar-hopping with my roommates later. I just figured I’d get as much use out of it as I can this weekend.
Though,” she adds, eyeing the hockey players, “I might stay a little longer tonight if they do.”
“Well, it looks like they wouldn’t mind if you do,” Andi says, her eyes darting over to where Nils is standing with Paul and his other teammates. He keeps sneaking glances our way. “But I’ll give you some advice my mom gave me when I moved here.”
“What’s that?”
“There are two things a woman should never chase. Whiskey and hockey players.”
We both laugh, and Bella nods emphatically. “Says the one hooking up with one. But trust me, I learned that the hard way in high school. My poor dad had to deal with that. He looks pretty happy with these guys, though.”
We all look at Paul and see that Bella’s right.
He’s grinning broader than I’ve ever seen before, returning each handshake eagerly, cupping each hand offered with both of his.
My heart squeezes at his grateful expression.
People are raising their phones and snapping photos, and I hope it will lead to some awareness the gym so desperately needs.
As for myself, I’m just grateful for my costume – complete with face paint – blurring me into obscurity.
The rest of the event goes beautifully. Andi and I are able to organize a mini boxing tournament for the children, split by age ranges, and I’m surprised by how much fun I have teaching them easy moves, then letting them loose on each other.
It’s the perfect blend of fun and competitive, and even those who ‘lose’ are rewarded with Halloween candy in the end.
I hand it over to Andi for a bit, and as she’s leading a group through some simple motions, my eyes are drawn to the opposite corner of the gym, where the guys are leading their own activities. I wander closer, inspecting the game they have set up.
They’re alternating as well: two of them are leading a mini game of hockey with the kids that aren’t in the ring with us, and one is signing anything the adults shove their way.
Andi – or Grant, I’m not entirely sure – has procured two small nets and a handful of tiny hockey sticks.
The kids are running around, flailing the sticks in the air and at each other just as often as they’re using them to whack at the rubber ball standing in as a hockey puck.
“Come on!” Grant is cheering his team of tiny weebles on, putting his own hockey stick in the fray every now and then in an entirely unproductive way. “We’ve got this!”