Thursday, January 13, 2011
now that the dam of writer's block has broken...wheee lots of ideas coming now...
“What you need is to get out, fucking dance and get drunk off your ass,” Carolyn stood over her friend, hands on hips, as Edie shook her head.
“I’ll just have a night in, watch a movie or something,” Edie replied, swirling the remnants of an ice tea in her glass. It wasn’t what she wanted. She did want something stronger, like maybe a couple hundred shots of tequila, but she was telling herself that if she started she wouldn’t be able to stop and that would be just end up being a pathetic spiral of self hatred that would probably result in waking up in the same clothes she was wearing now, probably in a puddle of her own puke.
“I can’t let you do that,” Carolyn reached forward and grabbed both of Edie’s hands. “I’m your friend and I can’t let you wallow in self pity. We are going out, pick up some fucking hot men and we’re going to dance our asses off, get all faced and skip work tomorrow. Deal?” Edie stared up at Carolyn. It was a really bad idea but she knew she was going to give in. She could say no now, but Carolyn wasn’t the type to give up and eventually she’d get worn down and they’d end up going anyway, only by that time she’d have been force fed half a bottle of vodka and when they’d got to the club she’d just end up doing something stupid like making out with some loser that wasn’t nearly as cute as Jon and….
“Fuck! Sure…whatever. You’re right. I am not going to sit around waiting for some guy to call me. What am I? I’ll tell you, some kind of pathetic little princess, that’s what,” Edie grumbled, allowing Carolyn to pull her to her feet.
“Still no answer.” Jon growled and stared down at his phone.
“See?” Kaner laughed as he sat, unlacing his skates. “Bitch ain’t worth freaking over. If she was waiting for you by the phone, like a good girlfriend should….”
“Like any woman worth having would sit by the phone and wait for you mop top,” Turco gave the top of Pat’s head a rub as he walked by. Jon was glad that someone else had said it. It saved him from having to. Jon tried her number again, but just like the other four times he’d tried since the end of the game, it went straight to voice mail.
“Fuck!” he hissed, slamming the phone down on the bench beside him. First they’d had their asses absolutely fucking handed to them by the bottom of the barrel licking Flames, and now this. It was almost too much to take.
“She’s probably with some other guy right now,” Pat grinned in that way that he always did when he knew what he was saying would probably end up getting him pummeled but he didn’t care. “You know what they say, out of sight out of….”
Jon didn’t let him finish his thought. He tackled his smaller teammate to the floor and landed at least one blow before he felt other hands on him, dragging him off of Kaner who was bleeding out of the corner of his mouth but still grinning.
“Don’t you dare say shit like that about her! You don’t know her. You don’t know anything about her,” Jon hissed as he was dragged backwards. He actually felt better for having got a couple of punches off. At least it felt like he’d done something. He’d tried to do something about letting out his frustrations on the ice, but that wasn’t when he was at his best. He played better when he was calm, when he was focused. Going out there and trying to hit guys because he was pissed, because he was worried, that wasn’t his game.
“You two can’t be fighting,” Sharpie stood between them. Jon’s hands were still curled into fists. But a critical glance from his teammate made him relax his hands. “I don’t want to be getting up in the middle of the night to police sirens because you’ve asphyxiated this little dickhead with a pillow,” Patrick added, turning to look at Kane. Jon looked at him too and felt just the slightest swell of satisfaction.
“Besides,” Duncs added, laying a hand gently on Jon’s shoulder, “I have dibs on that particular mode of punishment for the little shit and I’d hate to have to beat you to a messy pulp for infringing on that.” That got everyone smiling, including Jon and Pat, albeit grudgingly.
“So fucking shake hands so I can sleep on the damn plane and not play referee,” Rusty insists, standing between the two of the young players like a ref at a boxing match. Jon held his hand out and Pat gave him a grudging fist pump. “And you,” the red headed defenseman added, giving the top of Kane’s head a rub, “stop being such a fucking little shit. Jeez.”
“Don’t worry about Tayzer,” Sharpie grinned, swinging his bag over his back. “She’s probably just giving you a taste of your own medicine for not calling her, and as for Kaner, he’s just jealous ‘cuz no girl’s ever stayed the whole night with him.”
“Dude that’s totally me kickin’ them out. I need my sleep,” Kane replied with a cocky grin.
“Yeah, beauty sleep,” Jon smirked as he turned back to grab a towel from the shelf before he headed for the showers.
“I heard that,” Pat yelled from behind him as Jon walked away.
“Good ‘cuz I meant it you ugly motherfucker!” Jon yelled back over his shoulder, grinning as he disappeared around the corner and into the steam of the showers.
“Another!!” Edie hollered down the bar, slamming the shot glass down. The bartender laughed and waved, motioning that he’d be down to their end of the bar in a minute. Edie licked the last drop of tequila off her bottom lip and reached for the salt shaker. “C’mon, who wants to be my lime?”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” The voice in her ear was low and the tone definitely held a note of amusement.
“Normally I’d agree with you,” she nodded without turning to see who was whispering into her ear. “But tonight, I want to get shit faced,” she continued, spinning the bar stool around and sending the tall, dark haired stranger with the electric blue eyes staggering back into the arms of his friends. “Oh…sorry,” she giggled, reaching out to grab a hold of shirt and ending up with her fingers in the belt loops of his snug fitting jeans. “Or not,” she grinned, tugging him closer. “Hey…you look…familiar,” she added, peering at his face in the near darkness of the club. He had a nice smile, she decided, and really nice eyes but she wasn’t a fan of beards.
“Do I?” he laughed. He hadn’t tried to pry her fingers off his jeans but he was rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt, revealing a thick, muscular forearm. Edie looked down at his hand, at the myriad of scars crisscrossing his knuckles and then she looked up at his face again. He wasn’t exactly handsome, aside from his incredibly blue eyes, but he had a kind, sort of honest face. She nodded and smiled up at him and then reached for a slice of lime from the bowl in front of her.
“Some guys look different out of their helmets but not you,” she told him, turning back around and ignoring the arm he held out towards her, opting instead to undo the first four or so buttons of his shirt. He didn’t look shocked. He didn’t struggle. He just smiled down at her. “Not tough guy Tanner,” she whispered to him as she pulled him down to her level by his lapels.
“You’ve got me at a disadvantage,” he laughed as she held him there with one hand while she reached back for the now refilled shot glass with her other hand.
“In more ways than one,” she replied in a whisper as she raised the glass in salute to his friends who roared their approval. “Ready?” she asked, not waiting for his reply before she downed the shot and then slammed the lime wedge against his neck, dragging it down to his collarbone before shaking salt over the glistening trail of liquid. Then, with a playful grin, Edie pressed the flat of her tongue against the warm skin just below his collarbone and slowly, with her gaze locked to his, she licked her way up until she was sucking the last of the sour juice from the smooth skin just below his ear.
His friends were clapping and howling, as were a lot of the patrons near the bar. For his part, Edie felt his hands on her ass, lifting her off of the barstool and pulling her against his tall, solid body.
“Come dance,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear. He didn’t want to dance. His body told the truth he wasn’t speaking out loud as he pressed the evidence of his desire against her thigh. ‘Bad idea’ Edie’s conscience screamed in her ear, but she was three or four shooters removed from giving in to the angel on her shoulder. She was, however, not convinced that a solid, tall, hard body and piercing blue eyes could overcome the whole beard issue.
“Do me one favor,” she giggled, sliding her arms around his waist and tucking herself into his body.
“What’s that babe?” he grinned down at her.
“Kiss me.” Edie looked up at him and smiled. This time he did look shocked, but only for a second before his eyebrows slid back into place and the skeptical expression he was wearing turned into a happy grin.
“Always ready to oblige a pretty lady,” he told her, tipping her back into his arm until she felt her hair falling back and her breasts straining to pop out the top of her dress.
“Go Glass!” His friends cheered him on and Edie grinned up at him as she tried to dig her fingers into what felt like reinforced steel beams, not arms. His biceps bulged beneath her fingers and she suddenly felt a pang of loss, of regret and just as his mouth covered hers’ in a hard, demanding kiss, gut wrenching guilt.
When his tongue demanded entry, Edie pushed back and turned her face away. He tasted like whiskey and worse than that, his beard irritated her skin. Much worse than that, however, was that she’d heard Carolyn hiss sharply behind her and she was sure she’d heard one of Tanner Glass’s teammates say:
“What the fuck are they doing here?”
Edie turned her head towards Carolyn and found a pair of dark eyes staring down at her and a boyishly handsome face that made her heart skip a beat, turn into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.