Chapter One #2
His face was bright red now, and I could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “Yeah. I think you’re the best goalie in the league, Mr. Bouvier.
I’ve followed you from the beginning of your career with the LA Seals, then the Icers.
” He grew talkative, and I was entranced by his mouth.
I wanted to bite it. Taste it. “I was so excited when you came to the Blades.”
“I’m very excited to be here too. Especially tonight. Call me Denis, please. Mr. Bouvier is so formal. And I’d like us to become friends. Would you like that?”
Marshall’s big blue eyes grew wide. “Oh, my God. Yes. That would be so cool.”
“How about another bottle of champagne? Your best.”
Marshall’s jaw dropped. “That’s the Dom. I’d have to go to the back refrigerator for it. We don’t keep it out here.”
“I’ll wait.”
He hurried away, giving me a perfect view of his lovely ass. I sighed. For all the jibes at Rip about how much younger Adrian was than him, Marshall was no different. He couldn’t be more than thirty, if that.
Marshall returned, holding the bottle. “There’s only one chilled. There isn’t enough to share with all your teammates.”
“Let them drink Moet. You and I are sharing this.”
Marshall’s mouth made an O. “Mr. Bou—I mean Denis. They charge a hundred dollars a glass for it here. I can’t—”
I reached out and put a hand over his. “But I can. It goes on my tab. Now, let’s share.”
He popped the cork, and with a slightly shaky hand, poured two flutes. I lifted mine. “To you, Marshall, and to me. Our new friendship.”
We clinked, and I watched him taste the drink. “Oh, wow. This is so good. Totally different from the stuff we drink on New Year’s or when we make mimosas.”
“Mais oui. It’s the best. Have some more.”
He hesitated. “I really shouldn’t. It’s not fair to let the other guys work while I’m talking to you.”
“You’re very sweet. And thoughtful. I like that. We can continue the conversation later if you’d like.” I drank some more. “In my apartment.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Uh…yeah…uh…that would be…yeah.” He bit his lip. “I get off at midnight.”
“I can wait.” I pushed off the bar and grabbed the bottle. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty more of this at my place. See you later, Marshall.”
My evening plans arranged, I could enjoy the rest of the partying. I made sure to find the buffet and grabbed plenty to eat to coat my stomach for all the alcohol I’d imbibed. With a plateful of food, I leaned against a table and listened to the chatter of my teammates.
“This is the best night ever,” Chitty exclaimed, and I couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
Varhov had his arm around his pretty woman, loving her up. “Ready to go soon, babe? I love these guys, but I wanna be alone with you.”
On my other side, I heard, “When do you think Rip is gonna retire? I thought last season he’d go after his knee injury and the win, but now? I’m not so sure,” Lindy was grousing to Lemoine, and I perked up to listen.
“Why should he? Rip’s the captain—the best in the league. If you wanna go, talk to your agent about a trade. Shit. Two Cups already, and I’ve only been in the league five years? Fuck it. No way am I going anywhere unless they trade me.”
I’d need to remind myself to tell Rip to watch out for Lindstrom. Guy was good but had the bad luck of being on a team with the best center in the league. Like our second goalie, Ellis. I had no intention of retiring anytime soon, and I’d made that perfectly clear.
I finished my bottle, used the restroom, and as I walked down the hallway to the bar, I saw Marshall, my new friend and hopefully bed partner later in the night.
He faced the wall and was on his phone. Yeah, it was wrong to eavesdrop, but sue me.
Marshall was very into his conversation and didn’t hear me when I stopped less than four feet from him.
“Yeah, I know, babe, but it’s Denis Bouvier. I figured I’d get him drunk, grab some stuff, and leave without having to do anything. He’s pretty trashed right now, so it won’t be too hard.”
The fuck I was. Hearing how the sweet-faced Marshall was about to play me…steal from me, sobered my ass up pretty damn quick. I strained to listen. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but Marshall disagreed with vehemence.
“No way. I’d never fuck him. You wouldn’t mind if I kissed him, though? That’s not cheating, and I don’t wanna seem like a cock tease.”
The voice on the other end rose, loud enough that even I could hear it. “Why the fuck would you wanna kiss him?”
Marshall huffed. “Joey, I don’t want to. Trust me, the thought makes me wanna puke. But I wanna get him to sign my jersey and get some pics. Maybe he’ll give me a puck or something. Plus, he’s got a ton of cash in his wallet. He’ll never miss a few hundred. You know I’d never cheat on you.”
My anger grew with each breath I took. My control snapped, and I stormed over to Marshall and took the phone from his hand.
“Joey? It’s Denis Bouvier. Your loving boyfriend was ready to get on his knees and suck my dick in front of everyone in the bar, he was so into me.
He’s a lying little turd.” I put the phone back into a shocked Marshall’s hand.
“And you’d better be ready to pay for that bottle of Dom yourself. ”
Leaving him standing, I walked out of the bar and into the cool spring evening.
The glow from the Blades Arena lit up the street in the team colors of blue and gold.
Your Stanley Cup Champions Brooklyn Blades played across the illuminated screen.
A promo picture of Rip, Seb, and me flashed up first, then other ones with the rest of the team.
I glanced behind me, watching them all continuing to celebrate, most likely not even realizing I’d left.
And yet they were still closer to me than my actual family.
I wiped the wetness off my face and began to walk home. Alone.