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Page 46 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)

BEAR

THE BEAVER DAM’S LADY HOLE NIGHT

Three hours to Round Rock, and I couldn’t take the right video to save my life. I needed something to say we were having a great time, but not too great of a time to miss partying with June.

“Stop touching the radio.” Nick swatted my hand.

“I need cool music to film to.” I fiddled with the dial, trying to find the right song. Eh, this would do. I filmed Nick in the driver’s seat, the only guy I’d trust with my car, and showed Fridge and Montoya in the back. I nodded along to the song, grinning hard. “Time to paaaarty …”

“Time for June to watch your stoooories, ” Nick sang back. “Because my face hurts from fake smiiiiling .”

“Dammit, Nick, you ruined the video?—”

“Cut that part.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I flipped through the filters, picking the only one that said Austin, Texas, even if we were in Round Rock. “That’s cool, right?”

Fridge sighed from the back seat.

Nick shot me a look. “No part of this is cool, Bear.”

“I think it’s cool?” Montoya volunteered.

“Oh, awesome, we’re saved. Kid’s Toy thinks it’s cool.”

I ignored Nick and refreshed my views. Plenty of our teammates were pissed we didn’t invite them, but I wasn’t posting to get their attention. I refreshed it again, muttering. How were there so many views and no June?

Montoya’s phone rang, and when he answered, Elijah’s voice shattered the peace of the car. “You’re a bunch of douchebags—you didn’t think to invite the rest of us? Invite me? I’m way better at ping pong than Nick!”

“Fuck you,” Nick threw over his shoulder.

I groaned. “Elijah?—”

“Moosefucker, you hurt my feelings.”

We had ten other phone calls like that. Buttons made us swear we didn’t hate him for not bringing him along. I didn’t think the guys would want to go to some ping pong tournament so badly.

“I’m sorry, damn. How was I supposed to know everybody wanted to go?”

“Captain wants to talk to you.”

Denali’s voice came over the line. “Are you okay, Bear?”

“I’m fine .”

The concern was worse than if Denali was pissed. He cleared his throat. “It wasn’t my decision. I tried to talk to Vernon, I did. If you want to take some time?—”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I just want to hit up a ping pong tournament.” I grunted, uncomfortable. “I know you talked to him. And I…appreciate that. We’re not purposely cutting anyone out?—”

“Oh. Then this is a dick move.”

“Goddammit, I’m sorry!”

The car slammed to a stop and Montoya’s phone tumbled out of his hand. Fridge snapped at Nick but before I could agree, Nick ended the call to Denali and whirled to me. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

I stared. “Huh?”

“Why did I let you drag me into this?”

“Bear…?” Montoya asked, confused.

I started to turn to see what Montoya was gawking at, but Nick grabbed my shoulder, fuming. “Did you look up anything about this ping pong tournament?”

“Uh, yeah. Free entry, cheap liquor?—”

“Bear. That’s the place.”

I didn’t understand what he was talking about. It was a brick bar with a handful of mismatched chairs out front. A lady in flannel smoked a cigar out front, the smoke lifted over the colorful flags in the windows. There was a beaver with a trucker hat painted on the wooden door…

I stared. “Is this…?”

“You brought us to a lesbian bar, Bear. A lesbian bar.”

Fridge’s nod confirmed it. “That’s a lesbian bar.”

“No, that’s not…” I whipped out my phone. “The place is called The Beaver Dam —oh—and it’s Lady Hole night—huh. U-Hauls should be…parked out back?”

“What’s U-Hauls? That can’t be the moving company.” Montoya dropped his voice. “Is it code for drugs?”

The four of us exchanged looks.

“Are we allowed inside?” Montoya whispered.

“I—uh—don’t know…” I glanced back at Fridge. “Fridge?”

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know.”

“Goddammit,” Nick swore, scrolling on his phone.

“Every place around here has an entry fee. We’re broke as shit.

I didn’t drive three hours not to get drunk.

You’re the designated driver, Bear! You’re the one driving back!

” He debated before shoving his door open.

The three of us followed after Nick, keeping a determined path to the lady, puffing on her cigar.

“Hey! Is this the ping pong tournament?”

“Uh-huh,” she said in a gravelly voice.

“It doesn’t cost money?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No entry fee? And cheap drinks?”

“Uh-huh.”

Nick shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay…can we party? We like girls.”

“That’s the general idea of this place, yeah.”

“Are we drinking here?” Montoya whispered.

“I’m not going back to that car, sober,” Nick warned. “Either we get drunk, or I’ll tell the team you ditched them on purpose, Bear.”

“ Fine .”

I parked my car and found the guys waiting for me. We weren’t exactly racing inside. June started teaching me the acronyms for gay and trans people, but I wasn’t great with those. If there was an entry-level test, I’d fail. I cleared my throat and took the lead, pushing open the door.

Oh.

It was…a regular dive bar. There were pool tables, and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. Johnny Cash played from the jukebox.

A middle-aged woman with a feather boa stared. “Hot damn. Caleb Montoya? ”

Montoya’s eyes darted to mine, confused.

“Bear Moreau!” a voice shouted out.

“Felix Fowler!”

“Nick Kurosawa!”

The four of us stood, motionless, while a bunch of older ladies ambled over to shake hands, asking questions about playoffs last year.

“Let me buy you a drink!” A woman clapped me on the back. “My kids love you?—”

“We have hockey night every Tuesday.” The bartender smiled, cleaning a glass. “If you wear a jersey, it’s half-off appetizers.”

Not at all how I thought the night would go.

Nick and Fridge had fake IDs and a hunched-over lady in her sixties kept handing Montoya her flask. I stayed sober to be the designated driver. Fridge got my attention to take a video, and I passed him my phone.

Another patron crept into view. “What are you doing?”

“He’s trying to get a girl’s attention.”

“ Fridge. ”

“You won’t get it like that!” the lady with the gravelly voice barked. “Pull up your sleeves! Mess up your hair! Look like a Don Juan out on the town!”

Two ladies shuffled over to muss up my hair. With my sleeves rolled up, and Nick’s drink at my right, I grinned for the camera, but the grin disappeared when I checked my views.

Nothing.

June hadn’t checked anything at all.

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