Page 6
CHAPTER 6
North
J erry’s Bar is the kind of place I didn’t know I needed until I walked through its doors the first time nearly four months ago with my teammates. It’s owned by Hendrix’s fiancée, Stevie, and named after her grandfather. It’s a local hole in the wall, populated by blue-collar workers, bikers and a few grizzled veterans. It’s not polished or pretentious like Mario’s but rather raw and gritty, tucked away on a quiet street in Pittsburgh. It’s the kind of bar where no one gives a damn who you are, which makes it a great place for us to hang out in a slight bubble of anonymity. Not that the customers here don’t know we’re professional hockey players. It’s just that they don’t care and sometimes it’s nice to get away from the expectations that come with fame.
The place is alive tonight, humming with post-victory energy following our defeat of the Montreal Wizards. Not everyone on the team came out, but I’m glad it’s my closest mates. We’ve started to become a bit factioned by the addition of significant others to the mix—King and his girlfriend, Willa, who’s a doctor; Foster and his nanny turned girlfriend Mazzy, who is an amazing musician and singer; and Lilly, who I’m getting to know better, engaged to our first-line right-winger Boone.
Lilly’s little brother, Aiden, died last May after a lengthy illness and I can’t even imagine. I’m glad I wasn’t part of the team then, but Lilly is as sweet as they get.
Camden is with Danica, who interestingly enough used to be married to one of the Titans players who perished in the plane accident nearly two years ago. They’re widely regarded as the sweetest story on the team, given her second chance at love within a family that never abandoned her following her husband’s death.
And of course, it’s cool watching new love bloom between Rafferty and Tempe. It’s almost comical watching how he dotes on her. When she talks, he’s all in, one hundred percent devoted to the words that come out of her mouth.
Everyone is falling in love it seems, and Atlas and I are the only two single guys left in this little subgroup of Titans teammates.
And then… there’s Farren.
I haven’t seen her since she showed up on my doorstep two days ago. She slipped out of my bed early the next morning, leaving me with a light brush of her lips on mine. She went to spend the holiday with Rafferty and Tempe’s family, and I sat around by myself and stewed over the conundrum she presented.
On its face, it’s just sex.
Like, really fucking fantastic sex, and there’s an added element of actually knowing her outside of the bedroom, such as right now. She came with Rafferty and Tempe tonight, having gone to watch the game, and she’s currently talking to Mazzy and Willa while they sip beers at one of the high-tops. While I can certainly talk to her at any time, I’m not sure what I’d say.
Hi, Farren… Can’t stop thinking about the mind-blowing orgasms we gave each other the other night. Want to play a game of pool?
In ordinary circumstances, if we were just two people without any ties, it would be so easy to figure her out.
But it’s complicated. She’s Rafferty’s little sister, and we’re doing this thing behind his back. Not only do I have guilt over this deception, I also have this underlying current of dissatisfaction that I can’t be open with my feelings for her.
And the feelings are as convoluted as the situation itself. I like Farren. Her beauty and sexiness aside, she’s funny, adventurous, independent and incredibly smart. The other night at my house, yes, we had sex.
A lot of it.
But in between, we shared a meal together, played cards and talked, and I got to know more about her. There was never a lull in the conversation and after our last round of mutual orgasms, we ended up talking until the wee hours of the morning because we’re both adept conversationalists.
I asked her to choose the most meaningful game of hockey she’d ever watched Rafferty play, assuming his entry into the professional league would top the list. She had a heartwarming memory of a game he played when they were little kids, showing just how long she’s been his biggest fan.
She asked me about my greatest fear—losing my parents—and I asked her the most ridiculous thing she’d ever done on a whim. Her answer: a spur-of-the-moment road trip to Vegas.
On and on it went, showcasing a desire on both our parts to know more about each other, not just fuck.
That is the biggest puzzle, because as much as Farren wants to keep this thing between us in a tightly controlled, detached box, she was into me the other night.
Not into my body or what I could do for hers, but into who I am as a person.
And fuck if that’s not confusing.
The night is young and we’re all having a great time. The jukebox has been silent most of the night, which is great for conversation. Jubilant chatter fills the air, punctuated every so often by a bark of laughter. We’re celebrating our win in a relaxed atmosphere where we can put aside the stress of our jobs.
Periodically, I take in Farren as she flits around, socializing with all her newfound Titans friends. She’s stunning, effortlessly magnetic, and every time her laugh cuts through the noise, it hits me like a slap shot. I should go ask her to play a game of darts, just to get some one-on-one time with her. It would be a good gauge on how we’d interact within the framework of our Titans social circle, with the two of us holding the secret that we’re having a sexual relationship.
It would also force conversation about non-sex-related topics, which I know would easily carry us through the night because we find each other so interesting. Her eyes cut to me periodically but I’m confident to the casual observer, no one would be the wiser that we’re intimate.
“To Rafferty, for that sick goal and keeping us on top!” King hoists his beer and we all follow suit, redirecting my attention from Farren.
Atlas can’t help but tease. “Didn’t know you could skate that fast.”
“Bite me,” Rafferty replies, and we all laugh.
I nudge Tempe to my left. “My guess is Raff was performing above peak level to impress you.”
Tempe’s eyes shine. “I’m thinking he’s just that talented. ”
“Well miracles never cease.” I look to Atlas, but he’s staring at the door to the bar. I turn that way and see that Penn’s walked in.
Our reclusive star player has actually taken us up on one of a thousand invites to join us for an after-game celebration. We haven’t been able to figure out why Penn is the way he is. While he’s in hockey mode—practices, games, interviews—he’s outgoing and genial, always willing to discuss the sport we play.
But off the ice, he’s locked up tight and wants nothing to do with the camaraderie that makes this job so fucking special. In the nearly three months we’ve been playing together, I can say I haven’t learned a single thing about the guy other than the general information provided in his bio. I’ve never had a personal exchange with him and not for lack of trying.
King raises his hand when Penn looks our way and motions him over. He stares back at us, forehead puckered with what might be indecision. The man looks completely uncomfortable, and I realize what a monumental effort it must be for him to take this step. I plaster a welcoming smile on my face and glance around for the nearest waitress so I can buy him a beer.
But his gaze cuts away and his shoulders seem to round inward in some sort of protective maneuver. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets and winds his way through the crowd. I don’t think anything of it—perhaps he just wants to discourage any patrons from stopping him—but then I see him angling straight for two very large bikers standing near the bar talking to each other. Penn actually lowers his shoulder, and my mouth falls open as I see him plow into one of the guys so hard, his beer foams over.
“What the fuck, dude?” the offended customer yells, his voice rising above the bar chatter. Penn neither looks remorseful nor issues an apology, prompting the biker to shove Penn so hard, he stumbles back a step.
“Jesus Christ,” King growls and bolts from his chair so fast, it starts to tip over. I don’t see it hit the floor since I’m already pushing through the crowd, trying to make my way to Penn to protect him before something bad happens.
It never occurs to me to not rush to his aid. He’s my teammate and while he’s clearly in the wrong, I’m not going to let him get hurt no matter how badly he might deserve an ass-whooping.
Through the crowd, I see Penn’s face and the scary thing is, I don’t see a single emotion play out on it. He doesn’t look angry or chagrined. No clue as to what’s going on in his head but to my horror, he again lowers his shoulder and rushes the biker. He hits him square in the stomach, propelling him backward into a group of people sitting on stools.
All hell fucking breaks loose as the biker’s friend jumps in, taking hold of Penn by his jacket and planting his fist in my teammate’s face. Blood sprays and I push someone out of the way in my urgency to reach Penn before more damage is done.
Stevie, the pint-sized bar wonder, goes flying past me with her trusty baseball bat in hand. I’ve heard all the tales from Hendrix how it drives him batshit crazy the way she’ll jump into any fray, and now I have to worry about protecting her too.
Doesn’t matter though as someone shoves me hard to the side and Hendrix is chasing after his fiancée, managing to snatch her arm and halt her momentum.
Rafferty, King and Atlas all arrive at the same time, just as Penn swings for the biker. I don’t think to stop him, positioning myself along with my teammates to form a protective barrier around our crazed teammate.
“Enough!” Stevie shrieks, inserting herself between us and the bikers. Hendrix stands at her back, glaring daggers at anyone who might be stupid enough to take her on.
Stevie beseeches her customers. “Ernie, Sam… please, just stop. Not in my bar, okay?”
One of the bikers stabs a finger at Penn. “That fucknut started it.”
Stevie glances over her shoulder, taking in five large Titans just behind her, and Penn behind us wiping blood from his nose. “Maybe so but I’m asking you nicely to let it go. I’ll handle this.”
To my surprise, the big man merely nods at Stevie, although he shoots a hateful look toward Penn. No doubt in my mind if it weren’t for Stevie, things would have gotten very bad. The two bikers move down the bar and conversation resumes, although at a hesitant and lowered volume.
I step backward as Stevie whirls around, pushing past me to snarl at Penn. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ve suddenly determined it’s because you’re an asshole. You started that and they just defended themselves. Get out of my bar and don’t come back.”
And as if to make sure the message is clear, Hendrix puts his hand on Stevie’s shoulder, not to restrain, but to show his support. His face is livid and I’d bet a pretty penny that Hendrix would like to take a swing at the man.
Penn’s face is a blank mask and I’m shocked that he doesn’t even have the common sense to apologize. He turns away from all of us and heads for the exit, King and Willa following him out.
Stevie pats Hendrix’s hand and it falls away from her shoulder. She lets out a pent-up breath before calling out, “Okay everyone. Excitement’s over. The next round is on me.”
The bar erupts in cheers and just like that, everyone is happily laughing again .
Except I’m not laughing and as I look at my buddies, not one of them is smiling. That was so disturbing, we’re all a bit speechless.
I head back to our tables, my eyes cutting to Farren who looks worried.
Atlas takes a long swig from his beer, then points at the door. “That dickhead suffers from an anatomical conundrum.”
“Anatomical conundrum?” Rafferty asks.
“Yeah, he needs to get his head out of his ass. That was not cool. He not only put himself at risk because we can’t afford to lose him to an injury, he put us at risk too because we would have defended him in an all-out brawl.”
“Why is he like that?” Tempe asks, looking around to all of us.
“No idea.” Rafferty bends and brushes his lips over her forehead, and it’s a move so tender, it makes me look back at Farren. She’s staring at her brother with a dreamy smile on her face, but I doubt it’s because she’s warmed by their romance. I think she’s just happy for him.
“You want to play some darts?” Farren asks her brother as he helps Tempe into her coat. “I can grab Atlas or North and we can play doubles.”
“Nah. We’re going to head out,” Rafferty says, and Farren looks disappointed. She arrived with them and her ride is getting ready to leave. I find myself disappointed because even if we can’t talk or touch, I do like being in her presence as I try to figure her out.
She cuts a very quick glance my way before looking back at her brother. “I think I’ll stay.”
I can’t help but smile. Is she thinking the same as me?
Rafferty is nonplussed, merely nudging Atlas. “What’s up?”
Rafferty nods at his sister. “I’m heading out, but Farren’s going to stay—”
Atlas holds out his palm. “Say no more. We’ve got her covered.”
I’ve got her covered. I’m going to make sure she gets home safely but until that moment I deliver her to Rafferty’s place, I’m going to take advantage of this situation.
It takes a hot minute for Rafferty and Tempe to get out the door. There are hugs, backslaps, fist bumps, kisses on cheeks among the women, and then finally they’re gone.
I turn to see Farren standing there with darts in her hand.
I glance down at them and nod. “Want to play?”
“Yes,” she says, moving in a little closer. There’s no one around us but she pitches her voice lower. “Except not really interested in playing darts.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What do you want to play?”
Farren appraises me a long moment but rather than answer, she looks to her left and calls out, “Stevie… got a moment?”
Stevie smiles, touches Hendrix’s arm to indicate she’ll be back and moves over to us. “What’s up?” she asks Farren.
“I need a private place I can talk to North,” she says, and I blink in surprise. Stevie’s forehead puckers with worry and Farren murmurs to her, “I’m a little worried with something about Rafferty and I was hoping to bend North’s ear a moment.”
Stevie doesn’t even question the sincerity of the request or consider an alternative reason for needing privacy. Her smile breaks free, eager to help, and she reaches into her front jeans pocket. “Absolutely. I don’t have an office, but the stockroom is private. Here’s the key.”
Farren’s eyes sparkle with victory and because I know she doesn’t want to talk about Rafferty but instead wants to do something naughty and completely foolish, my body starts to react to the thought of what might happen in that dark storeroom.
“Thank you so much,” Farren says, resting a hand on Stevie’s shoulder. “It’s bugging me and I just need to figure something out.”
“Of course,” Stevie says, glancing between the two of us. She punches me lightly on the arm. “This guy is golden and if he can help, he’ll fix all your problems.”
I almost choke over the absurdity of what she said, not to mention the double meaning that Stevie unwittingly just voiced.
“We won’t be long,” Farren assures her.
“Take your time,” Stevie says as she starts to turn away. “The bar is fully stocked before we open each night so no one needs to get in there.”
Jesus Christ… we’re basically being handed a room for us to fuck behind everyone’s back.