Epilogue
TRICK
Fifi’s prediction about me making it to the pros came true.
“Here’s your five smackers.” I hand her a five-dollar bill grudgingly, my mouth twitching and my insides tumbling like a Maytag washer. “I hope you’re satisfied, taking advantage of me that way, when I was vulnerable and pessimistic.”
Her laughter peels through the air, ringing like church bells, merry and unstoppable. And why did I think of church bells? Not cool.
I re-position myself to shove my wallet back in my pocket, which isn’t easy to do because she’s sitting on my lap in my new recliner.
Luckily no one else at the party we’re having takes notice. The draft party was Bog’s idea. It was Fifi’s idea to have it at our place even though we just moved in two days ago.
I was picked in the second round of the NHL draft, losing the bet with Fifi that I’d go in the fifth or later.
“I never pegged you for a sore loser, Jennings.” Fifi says as she wiggles in my lap.
We’re sitting in the only chair in the apartment.
The guys are sitting on the floor except Van who’s pacing around giving wicked anxiety.
Ricci, Nina and Pammy are sitting on pillows or blankets like they’re ready for a sleepover.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Jennings?” Fifi prods.
I whisper in her ear, “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
Her laugh fades to a quiet smile.
“In fact I was thinking…,” I say. That’s a lie because I’m doing the opposite of thinking—I’m flying by the seat of my crazy ass pants.
“What are you thinking, Jennings.”
She’s such a tease, the exact kind of tease I can’t get enough of.
I pull her in tighter, pressing her into my lap so she can feel my excitement—her word, not mine because I’d call it a boner—enjoying how she gets breathless at the scorching contact.
“I was thinking maybe you like my name so much,” I whisper, nuzzling her erotically sweet earlobe, “that you might want to share it with me.” I inhale her scent deeply and hold it inside me, going still, waiting.
Her mouth opens and a beat, we stare at each other.
“What are you saying, Trick?” Her voice is quiet, but I hear the seriousness. “For real. No playing games.”
There’s a lull in the noise at our gathering and Fifi’s last words get the others’ attention.
The guys turn away from the TV to look at us, sensing something is up.
Ricci stops drinking her umbrella drink mid-sip. Nina turns her stare away from Henry who she’s been ogling all night. Pammy keeps her eyes glued to the TV and shushes us.
I ignore them all and return my attention to Fifi.
My first instinct is, of course, to play games with her, but I quickly skip to instinct number two and heft her over my shoulder as I stand, carrying her to the first door I see, which happens to be a closet.
I close us the door behind us and ignore the muffled voices outside. Luckily there’s a light switch and I turn it on.
“What are you doing?” She gives an indulgent chuckle as I let her slide down my body to a stand in front of me.
Then I pin her to the wall with my weight against her. Her eyes widen as she sucks in a lung full of dusty closet-air. Then she coughs and I have to rub her back until she coughs up all the dust.
Lazering my eyes on hers as they sparkle like gold, I let her settles before I say what I need to say. I cup her jaw with a shaky hand and search deep into her hazel eyes as they soften.
Calmness descends on me, erasing all my nerves and any hesitation I ever had, leaving only the serious resolve to make her mine.
I wait a beat, and when no fear rears up from the unknown recesses of my scary subconscious to strike at my heart, I mirror her soft smile.
“Marry me, Fifi. Share my name and my life.”