Chapter 4
“Jesus, Sunshine, we’ve been looking for you.”
“Yeah, man, how big is this place? We had no idea this was what you got up to in the offseason.”
Shit. It’s one of our rookies and an equipment guy, and I’m too drunk, and high, to remember either of their names right now.
“Hey, guys, I’m glad you made it! Everyone is usually off on their own vacations as soon as the season ends.”
“Well, you clearly have plenty of friends who love to party even without the team, man. Listen, we’re gonna head outside. I think I heard something about a wet T-shirt contest. We’ll catch up before the night’s over, yeah?”
A nod and a fist bump are all it takes to send them on their way.
I must be more fucked up than I meant to be if I can’t even remember a guy’s name after playing an entire season of hockey with him.
Although I have had some traumatic experiences recently.
My best friend got traded off my team, we lost in the NHL playoffs, the same best friend inherited a Russian Mafia and almost got killed, and now he’s in love and knocked a girl up.
There’s a word for it. Not Mafia…Plucking another champagne flute off a passing tray, I admire my handiwork.
Everyone is shiny in metallic fabrics tonight, and you can smell the hedonism in the air.
My postseason Hamptons parties are legendary, even if my teammates usually don’t show.
Not even Teddy would show, usually skipping them to go hiking with his grandma. It’s fine. It’s not everyone’s scene.
“Hey, Thatcher, thanks for inviting us.”
Squinting, I can make out blonde twins in skimpy metallic bikinis. They do seem very thankful, based on the hard nipples showing off through the fabric. I don’t remember inviting them, though. If only their faces weren’t so blurry.
“You’re very welcome, ladies. I’ll see you soon. Excuse me.”
Moving through the sea of people enjoying the DJ, I head for my favorite escape.
The second-floor balcony overlooks the pool and the ocean, and since it’s off-limits to party-goers, it’s the perfect place to take a quick break.
Sometimes, I’ll bring whoever’s caught my eye for the night up here, but tonight, maybe I can use it to take a better look at the crowd and find someone. Nobody’s struck my fancy yet.
Fuck, life is good. The twinkle lights glisten as people splash in the water, the DJ is playing a mix I requested, and every inch of my parents’ Hamptons house is filled with luxury and pretty people enjoying themselves.
I’m not sure where my parents are, not that it matters.
They never liked this house anyway, and I’ve never heard a peep from them about any of the parties.
One year, every chandelier got shattered, and when I came back a week later, it was like the party had never happened.
They literally couldn’t care less.
“There’s our fearless leader! Captain Prescott, please grace us with your presence, oh great one!”
Another person I don’t know has grabbed the mic for the outdoor area and spied me on my balcony.
He’s a fat fucker, maybe some Wall Street wannabe from the city, and I wish he hadn’t seen me.
As I move to the railing to smile and wave at my adoring public, I notice the woman by his side.
Tall and with a toned back, black hair braided down her back. No way.
“Cannonball! Cannonball!”
She turns, revealing that she’s just another stranger, and I shrug off my blazer and slacks to reveal the neon pink Speedo I custom-ordered just for tonight.
It takes every ounce of awareness I have, but I manage to step onto the railing and balance, toes hanging on for dear life as I stand above the pool.
“Hear ye, hear ye. Who summons your Lord Prescott?”
The crowd goes wild. I’ve never jumped from here to the pool before, but it’s not too far. I think. Before I have a chance to lose my balance, I leap for the pool, and the warm water welcomes me without injury.
What a time to be alive.
“You’re lucky no one got hurt.”
The burly fireman stares at me as if I purposely set my condo in the Upper East Side on fire.
“I agree that we’re all lucky, but I’m not sure I appreciate your tone.”
He doesn’t respond, but does pull out a melted lump from his pocket. Shit. That definitely looks like one of my favorite candles. I’m pretty sure I blew them all out before I left for the Hamptons.
“Regardless, nobody’s gonna be back in this building for a while. Smoke damage is the main problem. Once we finish our investigation, we’ll turn it over to the remediation company. I believe your father has already been in touch with the insurance. Have a nice day, Mr. Prescott.”
My father?
Right on cue, my phone lights up with a call from a contact that usually never graces the screen. If he’s calling, this can’t be good. I’ve barely answered the phone when his curt tone makes me feel like I’m five years old again. Or three, or ten, or sixteen…
“Good evening, Thatcher. I see you’ve finally managed to actually render one of our properties uninhabitable.” God, he loves reminding me that they own everything.
“Hello, Father. It seems there was an incident, but I’m not sure I can be held responsible just yet—”
“Save it. The fire chief already sent a picture of the candle to the insurance company.” He sighs heavily and mumbles something to, I assume, my mother in the background.
It always sounds something like “can’t believe we didn’t abort,” but I’ve never been able to make it out clearly. “This is disappointing, even for you.”
If only he knew how little his disappointment meant to me at this point.
“Well, I’ll go back to the Hamptons, I guess, until—”
“No.”
“Okay. Well, can I stay in the brownstone at—”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“Your mother and I have discussed it, and this is beyond the realm of what we’re willing to tolerate from you.
The goats on the roof of the country house should have been enough, but we’ve given you too many chances.
You’re on your own to figure this one out.
You can get a hotel or finally buy your own property. ”
“A hotel? For months?”
“At least until you purchase something. It’ll be good for you to get into the real estate game, anyway. It’s past time. We’ve got to be going. Have a good night.”
With that, my loving father is out of my life again, probably for at least a few months.
Staring at the still-smoking hulk of my condo building, I mull over my options.
I can definitely get a hotel and try to buy something, but I’d really rather move back in here.
The location is perfect, and I have, well, had it decorated just the way I liked.
I hate hotels. Even the most luxurious in the world feel lifeless when you’re there alone, listening to other people come and go, laughing with their lovers or their families. Traveling with the guys, I at least have a roommate. But if I’m in a hotel alone, I’ll get up to no good. I know myself.
The guys! There’s no way every single teammate is out of town for the summer. Surely someone has to be around.
“Sorry, man. We’re in Italy for the month.”
“Jesus, Sunshine. The whole condo? Yeah, we’re out West with the wife’s family.”
“Nah, bud. Back in Canada for the offseason.”
“Can’t, Sunny. I’m going back home to Norway to propose.”
Sailboat trip, baby due any day now, backpacking through Japan…
It seems like my teammates are cooler than I gave them credit for.
Not a single one is available to put me up.
Scrolling through my phone, I find the group chat that I somehow got added to after the party.
The Wall Street guy got my number, and all his little buddies who were at the party wanted to send me texts of thanks.
Hundreds of notifications later, I’ve scrolled past pictures I really didn’t want to see before they’re all cleared. Might as well put these guys to use.
“Anybody have somewhere I can crash for a month or so? Fire.” There. A simple enough request to people who have drunk more champagne and eaten more caviar on my dime than a month’s rent would be. My parents’ dime, I guess, but tomato tomahto.
The regretful denials flow in just as quickly as they did when I reached out to my teammates, and as the sun sets, I realize I might have to impose on my dearest friend and his pregnant wife. Maybe I can stay at their estate and follow his scary, hot sister around some more.
“Hey, man, sorry to bother you.” I give Teddy the whole spiel, but I can tell by the end that he’s overwhelmed between his whole being-The-Godfather thing, plus getting ready to be a real father.
He offers his grandma’s place, but mentions she isn’t there.
Apparently, she went on a European cruise with her pickleball group.
I plop down on a bench, feeling sorry for myself, and tell him I understand, and I’ll text him soon, but before I hang up, he stops me.
“Thatch, wait. I just had the best idea. I’m sorry, I just had to punish a…never mind, I just wasn’t thinking straight. I have exactly the answer to your problems.”
“Okay…”
“Mila just moved to New York, into a huge compound, but I don’t think she’ll be there often. She’s got so much to do, and…”
He keeps talking, but I feel lighter than I have all day.
Popping up from the bench, I walk back to where I parked near the condo and get ready for him to give me an address.
I won’t go tonight. That would be rude. I can make it one night in a hotel.
But then, even if she’s not there, getting to see her at all will be…
hot. My dick has never been so scared and aroused by the same person.
I don’t think she’ll give me the time of day, but I won’t be bored, and I definitely won’t be able to get into any shit.
“So what do you think?” Teddy finally finishes his spiel. I have no clue what he said, but it doesn’t matter. My best friend has come through for me, once again.
“That sounds perfect. Absolutely perfect.”