Chapter 4 #2
While I taught English and literature, she was a math whiz, tackling the world of statistics and advanced geometry like a rock star. Her selected field of study certainly didn’t match her wild appearance.
“Thank God the day is over with,” she tossed out as she sashayed in my direction. “Drinks on me tonight.”
I was still reeling over the answers. Yes, the quiz had been based on multiple choice, so theoretically, Anthony could have taken lucky guesses. Except for the last question, the question worthy of at least a paragraph.
Which he’d understood, although instead of a couple of sentences thrown together, which was what I expected to find with everyone else’s paper, he’d written three eloquent paragraphs about his greatest loss.
His father.
No wonder he hadn’t wanted to risk anyone seeing the words of admiration and respect appearing on the sheet.
“What are you looking at and who brought the teacher an apple? I didn’t know some student was sweet on you.”
“Very funny. My worst student surprised me.”
“Does that mean you’re taking out a restraining order?”
Chuckling, I shut down the computer and grabbed my things. “I thought about it last week at least twice. Maybe three times.”
“You’ll learn to keep mace in your purse.”
“I already have it.”
“What did he do?”
I shook my head, still in a small state of shock. “I told him he’d never be a hockey player if he couldn’t read and honestly, I was beginning to think he couldn’t. But he just aced the test.”
“A hockey player, huh? There could be worse things.”
“Not in my world.”
“Oh, come on. They’re sexy.” Tawny grinned. “You up for that drink later? I know you’re not working at your other job. The next game isn’t for a couple of nights.”
“It’s Wednesday and I don’t care if they’re sexy. They’re arrogant pigs.”
“Ouch. Okay then. No hockey players. I know it’s the middle of the week, which means we have two more full days before we can take a breather from sarcasm and testosterone.”
“No, silly. It’s the night I go skate.”
Her frown was followed by a short laugh. “That’s right. I forgot all about the night you practice. You’re sure you can’t change your mind just once?”
“You know what? I need to work off a little steam.” The nagging for excitement picked at the back of my brain.
“Are you sure? I know you too well by now. You need a little hunger and hunt. I know the perfect bar.”
“There is no perfect bar.”
“You bet there is.” She leaned in as if fearful others would hear. “We could even meet some wolfies.”
“Wolfies?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Shifters. I heard there were a few in town.” She dropped her gaze, doing one of her cutesy little maneuvers and miming a drawing. I knew exactly what she had on her mind when she drew a huge cock and a set of big balls.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” I challenged.
“Yes, but a girl can look. And fantasize. Do not tell me you haven’t thought about what fucking one would be like.”
I threw a look toward the classroom door, thankful neither the principal nor any students had snuck into the room. “Fantasizing only leads to hungering, which only leads to heartache, so that’s an emphatic no.”
“Party pooper. What would it hurt for you to taste one?”
Cocking my head, I couldn’t help but glare at her.
Since the little over a year since the first reported and confirmed discovery that shifters walked amongst us, people had gone nuts about them.
They were either terrified their entire families would be eaten in the middle of the night or eager to hunt one down for a trophy on their walls.
Then there were the groupies, mostly women who gravitated toward male shifters as if they were rock gods. From what I knew, they were notorious loners, which I certainly couldn’t blame them for given the insanity of how the press handled their existence. It was disgusting in my mind.
Then there was my father, the horrible man that he was, determined to wipe their existence off the face of the earth.
And me, who’d continued to keep her head in the sand regarding their existence. I had enough to worry about without werewolves combing the night.
“You really believe the hype about shifters?” I asked.
“They do exist, you know. Even if it seems as if they’re hiding.”
“So my father has told me in every sermon about how they don’t deserve a place on this earth. I don’t blame them for refusing to interact with humans. We suck. Now, you’ll excuse me if I don’t feel the need to mire myself in ridicule if my father found out I even talked to a shifter.”
“Ah, be a bad girl for once. You won’t regret it. They have two cocks, you know.”
Oh, my God. You bet I’d heard the insane stories on social media. There were nutcases out there. They were the same people who insisted little green men walked amongst us too. While science did confirm shifters were real, I reserved judgment and in truth, just didn’t care.
Now she had me laughing. “Oh, I’d love to see that. Like I told you the other night. Men are out of my vocabulary for now.” Not just because of my reprehensible ex, but also because my father continually wanted to fix me up with the ‘right’ guy. Only there was no such thing.
“Was Mark hitting on you again?”
“When isn’t Mark hitting on me? He left me a card in my locker in the teachers’ lounge, which means he broke into my locker to do so. Who the hell does that?”
She chuckled and folded her arms. “So he’s persistent. He comes from a good family, tells a mean joke, has interesting tastes in food, and doesn’t drool on himself.”
“You just described either Frankenstein or Jeffrey Dahmer’s family. Did you go out with him?”
“God, no.”
“Then I’ve made my case. Blowing off steam is in everyone’s best interest.”
“You talk a mean talk,” Tawny insisted.
“Oh, no, I’m a mean little bitch when I need to be. We’ll catch a drink maybe this weekend. As long as you’re not snuggling under the covers with that hottie boyfriend of yours. I certainly don’t have any big plans other than working Saturday night.”
She was lucky, her boyfriend not only a hot specimen of a man but also a good conversationalist. Plus, as a well-known sports reporter, his knowledge of hockey teams and stats legendary, he traveled extensively during the hockey season.
I thought he was an ass, but I wasn’t required to act like a glorified puck bunny.
As soon as I’d learned the meaning of the term, I’d been disgusted.
“Tell me why you’re working the concessions again? Don’t you have enough fun being on edge while you’re here?” When I blinked several times, she rolled her eyes. “My attempt at making a hockey joke.”
“Ha. Ha. I hear them all the time.” And I did.
“Trust me, I’m not working at the arena for the money or their great food.
That’s for certain.” Other than the fact I could use the extra cash, the real reason I worked a few shifts here and there was to gain free access to the ice where the team practiced.
The TDH Ice Plex in Brandon was perfect.
After the team had left for the day and the Zamboni machine had gone through, the ice was in perfect condition for me to skate.
I was almost always alone, the few maintenance and custodial staff left inside the building giving me space. It was the perfect arrangement and one my father couldn’t fuck with.
With everything in my briefcase, we headed toward the door.
“Jeff is working this weekend. He wants me to come to the game, but I’m just not interested.”
We headed out the door, taking our time to walk down the hall. “Wait a minute. You don’t like a bunch of big, burly, bouncing baby boys pawing all over you?”
“Well, there is something to be said for all that testosterone in a room, you know. Hot, alpha men dominating the ice. What’s not to love?”
“You mean pushing a teensy, tiny little puck around? What did that puck ever do to them? And why would any woman subject themselves to being a puck bunny?”
Her laugh echoed in the hallway. “There are some fringe benefits to hanging all over a sweaty guy.”
A tiny snort left my mouth before I could stop it, an involuntary tic I couldn’t stand. “No, thank you. I’ll stick to non-sweaty guys.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing, Sometimes, Jeff will slide into his old hockey uniform so I can peel it off.”
“Enough. I don’t need to hear about your fabulous love life when mine is shit.”
We both laughed as we headed out to our vehicles. “You need to consider going out on a date every once in a while.”
“I will. When Mother Nature makes a new crop of men.”
“You’re not going to break into song, are you?”
Yanking my key into my hand, I laughed. “Oh, heavens, no. Not unless the perfect man walks into my life and I don’t see that happening.”
“Be careful what you ask for. Talk to you tomorrow. Enjoy your lonely skating date.”
“I think I will.” As I climbed into my car, I glanced at the ice skates I’d tossed into the front passenger floor. They were broken in, a favorite pair that I’d owned for years. Some people would be surprised how old they were, given their pristine condition.
Until recently, they’d done little more than take up room in my closet. But I hadn’t been able to sell or give them away.
Just like my father wanted.
They were all I had left of the real me, the girl with stars in her eyes.
Leaning over, I stroked the smooth leather, thankful I’d taken the time to keep it supple and the blades free from rust.
While I’d never be the whimsical fairy figure skater from before, something a reporter had coined after a flawless performance, for an hour every week, I could pretend.
And that had to be good enough to guide me through the darkness.