14. Piper #2
She nodded. “I’ve got a water bottle and the headband that you gave me last time. But I still don’t have a paddle.”
“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. We’ve got that covered.
” Lisa squeezed her shoulder, then turned her attention to me.
“It’s a hockey game with your boss. Everyone will be wearing team stuff.
Go. Have fun. Your daughter is getting the most expensive lesson at the club.
” I could read between the lines. Judith, or Judy as Lisa called her, had paid for the lessons.
The engine revved again. “Fudge it,” I muttered under my breath and pulled the jersey over my head. “How do I look?” I rubbed at my eyes, hoping the mascara I’d applied before my nap hadn’t taken a southern detour down my face.
Olive turned to look at me. “Mommy, you look beautiful.”
Lisa’s eyes shimmered. “You do look beautiful.”
The horn honked again, but this time, it wasn’t a cute beep. Judith was leaning on it. There was no time to spruce up. I would go to the game looking like a disheveled mess, drink a twenty-dollar beer with my boss, come home, and put the whole debacle behind me.
“I think your ride is getting impatient.” The horn continued to blare.
“Argh.” I groaned and yanked the door shut. “Let’s get this over with.” Olive and Gabby bounded down the stairs ahead of us and piled into the back seat of Lisa’s SUV.
We both stopped as we turned the corner.
“This keeps getting better.” Lisa draped her arm over my shoulder and chuckled. “At least you’ll get there fast.”
Judith sat in the driver’s seat of Keith’s bright red Ferrari, the same model as the one from the movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off .
She’d wrapped her scarf around the Tigers hat and tied it beneath her chin.
I held up my finger, pausing race car Judy’s horn, and jogged to Lisa’s car.
I leaned in the back seat to hug Olive. “Have fun, sweetheart.”
“Thank you for letting me go. Have fun with Mrs. Lockelhurst.”
“I will,” I lied.
After seeing the look on Olive’s face, how could I be mad at Judith? If putting on a jersey and going to a barn on a sweltering Sunday night bought a lesson with Janie Myers, I could be a sacrificial puck bunny.
The engine revved as we pulled up to the VIP valet. The attendants gave each other an amused look but sprang into action as Mrs. L tossed them the keys. “I know what the odometer reads, boys, and no, you can’t roll it back.”
The valet who caught the keys doubled over in laughter. “We’ll take good care of her.”
With the Ferrari “safely” valeted, Mrs. Lockelhurst and I joined the crowd of people making their way into the stadium. “Mrs. Lockelhurst, you’re full of surprises. You’ve seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off ?” I said.
“I may be old, but I’m not a dinosaur, Piper, and please, call me Judy,” she whispered. “I use that line on the valets all the time. They eat it up.”
Judy. A sense of pride flooded through me. Lisa wasn’t the only one in the call-me-Judy club. “And none of them have ever taken it for a joyride?”
She leaned into me. “Who knows? I have no idea what the odometer says.”
I laughed. While our boss-employee dynamic seemed to be on pause for the evening, I wasn’t going to forget who signed my paychecks.
It wasn’t until our tickets were scanned and we were officially inside the fishbowl that I caught a glimpse of my reflection.
If my hair started the trip looking slightly nap-tousled, it was now one hundred miles an hour down the interstate in a Ferrari meets 1980s hair band huge.
Unlike Mrs. Lockelhurst—Judy, whose hair scarf was tied elegantly on the handle of her handbag, while her hair cascaded mermaid-like from under her tiger hat.
The size of the building brought me comfort.
I breathed in the sharp bite of the cold air mixed with the smell of stale popcorn and beer.
There had to be at least ten thousand people inside, so the likelihood of running into anyone I knew or a player was minimal.
But not zero , I reminded myself. I smoothed my hair as best I could and tried to keep up with Judy as she wove through the crowd.
My hope of blending in diminished with every step we took toward the ice. Could I remain another face in the crowd when we were in the first row? Not just in the first row—we were at center ice. I could reach out and touch the glass.
When we reached our row, the businessmen seated there stood, gesturing for us to pass in front of them. “Thank you.” I smiled as I shimmied by.
“Glad to see chivalry isn’t dead,” Judy spoke from behind me. As I sat in the cushioned seat, my boss squeezed the arm of the forty-something man in the suit and tie seated next to her. “Well, aren’t you handsome,” she said.
He blushed and seemed starstruck. Judy had the air of celebrity, of importance, of dripping in hundreds of thousands of dollars in jewelry. “Anything for a couple of sisters.” The man recovered with a wink.
I’d spent time with my boss, but not “in the wild.” She was, apparently, an uncontrollable flirt. “Oh, please. This woman could be my granddaughter.”
The man looked past Judith at me. His eyes lit up, and he held up the plastic cup of beer in his hand. “Can I buy you two a drink?”
We settled into our seats, and I tucked my purse underneath mine. Judith kept hers perched on her lap. “Of course you can, but don’t get any ideas. I’m married.”
Judy was playing with him. He was a good-looking man.
He looked like the CEO of an accounting firm, hair graying at the temples, skin tanned like he spent plenty of time on the golf course.
He likely didn’t have issues with the opposite sex, but probably wasn’t accustomed to an octogenarian making him squirm.
“That’s a shame.” He shook his head. “Could I beat him in a fist fight?”
Judith laughed. “Not a chance.”
“What about your… granddaughter? Is she happily married too?” His eyes shifted to me, and they changed.
I felt them track down the front of the hockey jersey down to my toes and back up, pausing below my chin before landing on my face.
It sent a chill up my spine, and not the good kind.
With Judy, he had been light and seemed almost…
small. When he looked at me, his demeanor changed, his eyes predator-like.
Before I could answer, the woman beside me interrupted. “She’s taken.” The stranger, a pretty woman with dark brown hair and horn-rimmed librarian-style glasses, draped her arm over my shoulder. “By my brother.”
“She’s not married. I don’t see a ring.” The man pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, probably to show off his diamond watch. It sparkled in the stadium lights. “What kind of a man doesn’t wife up a woman like her? I’ll take good care of your little girl.”
Bile rose in my throat. The playful smile left Judith’s lips. Her eyes narrowed. “It looks like you’ve already wifed up some unlucky woman.” Judith pointed to the white tan line on the man’s ring finger.
“I’m…” He paused, as though trying to figure out how to defend himself.
Instead of a witty response, he shrugged, swaying a little in his seat.
He wasn’t tipsy; he was wasted. His state became more apparent the longer the interaction with him and his douchebag friend dragged on. “I can be single tonight.”
Judith rolled her eyes. “Like her friend said, she’s taken. And frankly, you are a little too long in the tooth for both of us.”
His eyes squinted, computing the insult. He gave a swat of his hand, dismissing us.
The girl with the tray of beer had reached our row and cast us an expectant look. The drunk man snapped his fingers and shouted, a little louder than necessary. “We need two here.” He pointed to me and Judith.
He wasn’t picking up on the don’t talk to us anymore vibes.
Judith held up a hundred-dollar bill. “Not necessary. I’ll get the drinks.”
“Whatever.” The man muttered under his breath. “Stupid cunts.”
Holding my breath, I hoped to hell that she hadn’t heard the disgusting comment.
“What did you say?” Judith’s voice dropped into a low range.
Before I could do anything, the girl beside me stood. “Let me help you with the stupid cups. I think that’s what he said. They’re flimsy and always breaking.”
“Oh.” Judy chuckled. “I misheard.”
The de-escalation was important. I recognized the angry look in the drunk man’s eyes and was so thankful our new friend had stepped in. Judith had insulted the guy, and he was stewing. It was going to be a long game, sitting next to a middle-aged man with a bruised ego.
“I’ve got it.” Judith’s voice was filled with impatience as she gestured for us to sit down. She held up four fingers and passed the hundred-dollar bill over the man’s head. “Keep the change.”
The men begrudgingly passed along the plastic cups, slippery with condensation.
“Four?” I whispered to Judith. Did she have a wild night planned?
She might be able to knock back a bunch of martinis and still be able to shift the gears in her Ferrari.
Me, I rarely drank, and a night of watered-down draft beer would have me stumbling out of the arena, and one of us had to work tomorrow.
“This one is for your friend Suzette.” Mrs. L handed a beer to my new friend and one to me.
The pretty brunette accepted and held up the cup. “Thank you,” she said. As Judy turned to get the other drinks, she mouthed, “Suzette?”
I shrugged. My new friend, a girl not-named-Suzette, and I watched as Mrs. Lockelhurst settled into her seat with the last two cups. “Hold this, will you, dear?” She thrust another cup at me. With both of my hands filled, I was defenseless as the scene unfolded in front of me.
“This one is for our new friend, Mr. Stupid Cup.” Just as the cameras panned over our section, live and in full LCD jumbotron display for all to see, Judy poured the entire contents of the fourth beer onto the crotch of the drunk.
Not-Suzette and I froze.