Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CATALINA
"So, everything is up in the air?" I slid into the passenger side of Cruz's car. He hadn't opened it for me, and made no move to help me inside. He did, however, watch me carefully and stay close enough that if I fell, he'd catch me before I face planted.
Fortunately, I got inside without incident and clicked on my seatbelt.
"It's bullshit," he grunted. He flopped heavily into the driver's seat and glanced over at me. "I suppose you think it's justice."
I smiled and held out my fingers slightly apart. "Just a little bit. You know what they say about what doesn't kill you."
"Yeah. What doesn't kill you pisses you off." He grinned. It quickly faded. "I'm glad Dean didn't… You know."
"Me too," I agreed. "Where are you taking me?"
"Nowhere until I say what I need to say," he said.
He sat around to face me, as best he could with the centre console between us. "It's taken time for me to work up to this. Taking you anywhere without Easton or Shaw lurking around like they were going to stab me in the ass if I looked at you the wrong way. Or in the cock if I said anything wrong."
He shuffled uncomfortably. "I was a fucking dickhead. From the moment I saw you, I screwed everything up. I'm not good at relationships that last longer than an hour or two. Easton would tell you I suck at anything longer than that too. I dunno."
He rubbed a hand over his head. "I've been doing a lot of thinking and talking to my therapist about why I'm so defensive. I figured it comes with the territory of being a hockey player. We're supposed to be aggressive or some shit. That's cool on the ice, but a dick move off the ice."
"You have a therapist?" I asked, not judgemental, just curious. We probably saw the same one.
"Yeah. Believe it or not I had issues to work through.
The only one I care about is not fucking up with you anymore.
Or with Easton. He hasn't said it, but I know he won't let our relationship go any further until I have my shit sorted out with you.
I'm not saying that so you forgive me, that's my problem, and it's between him and me. But I do want to sort this out."
He nodded, turned away and started the engine.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" I wasn't going to address the rest of what he said, not yet. There wasn't much to say. I was giving him the chance to make it up to me. The rest was up to him.
"You'll see in a couple of minutes. But I want to explain something else. When I was a kid, I wasn't interested in playing sport. I did it because people said I should. Because I was good at it. I ended up loving it, but it wasn't my first choice back then."
He stopped the car in front of a small building on the main street of Opal Springs. He got out and waited for me to do the same.
"Let me know if you need to sit down or whatever," he said. He eyed my leg speculatively. "You have the best legs." He offered me his hand and led me inside.
I looked around. "You wanted to be an actor?" I'd gone past Opal Springs theatre millions of times, but I hadn't been inside for years.
"It's much worse than that." He guided me up the aisle and into a seat in the front row. "Have you got your phone ready? I want you to film what you're about to witness. If you want to share it with the world, you can. In fact, you probably should." He grimaced.
"Okay," I said slowly. I admit to being more than a little curious about what was going on. I slipped my phone out of my pocket and got it ready. "Are you going to strip for me?"
He snapped his fingers. "I should have thought of that. Wait, do you want me to?" He smiled slyly.
"I want you to do what you brought me here for," I said. "Let's put stripping in the 'maybe' basket."
"I prefer to put it in the 'later this afternoon' basket." He winked.
My heart skipped a beat, and my pussy throbbed. I couldn't help remembering the way he fucked me with his hand in the locker room. If my brain hadn't quite forgiven him, my body certainly had. I'd have to be careful not to let my clit do the talking and thinking until the rest of me caught up.
"Wait there." He trotted up the steps at the side of the stage and into the wings. He reappeared a few moments later with a bright pink feather boa around his neck and matching lipstick smeared across his lips.
"Before you say anything, I don't aspire to be a drag queen, although they are awesome. I embarrassed you with that video and I wanted to do something so absurd it might come close to making up for that. So you know, I don't just laugh at other people, sometimes I laugh at myself. You videoing?"
I wasn't, but I pressed the record button and nodded.
I didn't see the cucumber in his hand, but he raised it now and started to sing like it was a microphone. He sang loudly and with everything he had, but every note was off key and at the wrong tempo.
I'd heard people sing out of tune before, but he was something else.
I wasn't sure if he was just that bad or if he was hamming it up for me.
Either way, he sounded absolutely terrible.
And absolutely hilarious. If I posted this online, it would go much more viral than my fall had.
Especially if he went pro. Fans would eat up every moment of it.
He finished singing right before my ears started bleeding, and bowed, complete with a flourish of one hand.
I turned off the phone and stood to give him a round of applause.
"You're very sweet," he said, stepping down off the stage. "My teachers weren't so nice. I wanted to join the choir and sing, but they told me I sucked." He grimaced at the memory.
I winced. "That's harsh."
"It was, but it wasn't wrong." He flopped down beside me. "I was devastated. For the longest time, I thought it was because they didn't like me. Admittedly, I was a little shit. It wasn't until years later I realised they were right, I can't sing for nuts."
"So you got another dream," I said.
He ran a hand over the back of his head. "Some would say it's a better dream. Who wants to be a rock star when you can smack the crap out of a puck night after night? And skate. And hang out with guys like Easton and Shaw, and beautiful women like you."
"It sounds like you fell on your feet," I said.
"I guess I did, but I let it go to my head too. I'm sorry I was a fuckwit." He dropped out of his seat onto the floor in front of me, on his knees. He took my hands in his and looked me in the eyes.
"I'm just a humble mechanic and winger, begging you to forgive me for being an asshole." His brown eyes pleaded. He looked adorable like that, lipstick, boa and all. More than that, he looked sincere.
"If it makes you feel better, you can post that video," he said. "Let people laugh at me the way they laughed at you."
"I was showing off," I admitted.
He gestured to the boa and grinned. "So was I. I might not be able to sing, but I can wear a feather boa like a motherfucking bitch."
I shook my head at him and laughed. "Yes, you can." I grabbed the boa in both of my hands and pulled him forward to kiss his mouth. I didn't care if I got bright pink lipstick on my lips. I needed to feel his mouth on mine.
He kissed me back, his tongue dancing with mine, swiping across my lips and teeth.
"Does this mean you forgive me?" he asked. He wiped lipstick off the corners of my mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Before you answer, I want to tell you something I've never told anyone else before." He glanced down to the floor. "I didn't want to be a rock star. I wanted to be an opera singer."
He hesitated and looked back up. "You can laugh now if you like."
"Why would I laugh at anyone's dreams?" I asked. "What's the point of life if we don't have them to reach for?" Tears started to gather in the corners of my eyes.
He wiped them away. "I'm sorry you didn't get to live yours.
I would have been front row to watch you win the gold medal.
I would have cheered louder than everyone else.
If I could go back and stop Dean from doing what he did, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Even if it ended my career instead. Me being an asshole influenced him.
Being a dumbass, I forgot that role models could be negative as well as positive.
From now on, I'll keep being an asshole to a minimum and mostly in front of Easton.
He's not as easily influenced as guys like Dean. "
"Dean wasn't a kid," I pointed out. "The only person responsible for his actions is him."
"Does that mean you forgive me?" Cruz looked hopeful. "Wait. I shouldn't be pressuring you to answer that. You'll tell me when you're ready. Now that I've made a complete clown of myself, there’s someone I'd like you to meet if you're up to spending more time with me?"
I appreciated his decision to give me some space and time. There was no rush to tell him what I'd already figured out. I had a feeling he already knew.