“There are hotdogs, Tess. And churros…and popsicles,” I tease.
She sighs. “Puppy, why are you only naming the phallic-shaped snacks?”
“Because I want a mental picture of you deep throating a churro in the stands while I’m out on that ice,” I reply. “We both know you’ll be pretending it’s me.”
She laughs, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Humor is the only thing I’ve found to rein her back in when she starts going to the dark place.
“And hey, are we still on for karaoke tonight?”
“Umm…”
Now it’s me laughing. “Tess, I told you we’re in the clear. If Shelbs and Sully were sitting on a sex tape, we’d know it by now. The camera didn’t record anything. Now, if you want to record a session sometime, that can be arranged—”
“Ryan,” she cries.
“What?” I say, still laughing. “You’re telling me you’ve never thought about it? How the hell else am I supposed to survive the away games?”
“You’re incorrigible, and I’m hanging up.”
“I’m enchanting, and I’m hanging up first,” I tease. I’m right outside the locker room. If I go in there talking to my girl with this sappy look on my face, I’ll get ribbed for a week. “Wait—so I’ll see you later, right?”
“Bye, Ryan.” She hangs up.
Yeah, I’ll see her later. Tess Owens is it for me. I intend to keep seeing her for the rest of my forever.
50
I walk into Riptide’s Bar and Grill and glance around. It’s a typical Americana-style bar with a mess of stuff on the walls and a menu too thick to be of any quality. Never trust a place that offers gator bites and quesadillas and pasta carbonara. They can do one of those things well, certainly not all three.
A pretty, college-aged girl in a Rip’s baseball shirt and cutoff jean shorts shows me outside. There are tons of picnic tables, both covered and uncovered. A stage area is set up off to the left. A central bar stands covered with stools all the way around it.
It’s nearly 7:00 p.m., which means a dusting of clouds makes for a pink and purple cotton candy-colored sunset over the grey ocean. It’s chilly too. I’m glad I have my sweater layered over my dress. The seating area is dotted every few feet with domed space heaters.
“Tess!”
I turn to see Rachel standing at the end of a table with a beer in her hand, laughing and waving me over. It looks like half the Rays are already here. I see Jean-Luc and his wife Lauren and their kids, Walsh and his girlfriend Amber, Novy and Morrow. Caleb and Jake are sitting with Ryan. His back is turned, and in all the commotion, he hasn’t noticed me yet.
“Well, well, well…”
I spin around to see Shelby standing right behind me with a little mini version of Josh balanced on her hip. He’s adorable, with dark hair, big dark eyes, and pouty pink baby lips. “Hi Shelb—”
“Nuh-uh,” she says, wagging a finger in my face. “If you think I don’t know what you did—”
“Shhh,” I cry, pulling her away from the rest of the group. “Ohmygod, it’s been days. Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she counters with a false whisper, eyes narrowed at me.
“Because—well, what was I gonna say?” I huff. “‘Hey Shelby, check your nanny cam if you want a shot of me crawling in a devil costume to suck Ryan’s dick.’”
She chokes on a laugh. “Oh god, I didn’t actually see that part.”
“I—wait, what?” I blink at her, heart racing.
“Yeah, the camera angle isn’t great, so I really only saw the stuff that happened in the middle of the room,” she replies. “The stuff against the changing table was out of shot. But thanks for the visual—”
“What do I need to say or do for this to never be mentioned again?” I say, gripping her arm.
Baby Josh reaches out a chubby hand, putting it on my wrist.
Shelby considers for a moment, her caramel brown eyes searching my face. “You can sing ‘Careless Whisper.’ Now. Open the show.”
Oh my god. Of all the possible punishments, she has to pick this one? I’m an only-sings-in-the-shower kind of girl for a reason. I can’t carry a tune to save my life. “Pick something else,” I plead. “Anything else.”
Her eyes narrow as she surveys me. “No.”
I drop my hands away from her. “You’re a monster.”
She doesn’t back down. “And you fucked a Ray on my baby’s stuffed animals while dressed as the literal devil. So…”
I bite my lip, tears of mirth stinging my eyes. Oh, this is going to be god-awful. And she’ll have only herself to blame. “Fine. Any other requests?”
She considers. “Yeah, actually, I’d love it if you could throw a little Shania in there too.”
“Late ‘90s or early 2000s?”
She puts a finger under her chin, bobbing the squirmy baby on her hip. “Hmm…late ‘90s, I think.”
“Consider it done,” I reply. Then I lean in. “And then we are never discussing this again.”
Smiling, she nods and walks past me to go find her seat.
Well…fuck. What happens when you get booed off a karaoke stage? Do you have to leave the establishment? Does your name go up on a wall of offenders inside the restaurant?
“Hey, gorgeous.”
Ryan comes up behind me, his hands brushing my shoulders. Leaning in, he kisses the back of my head, and I fight the urge to lean into him. Remembering where we are, I go stiff and pull away, turning in his arms to break our connection.
“Ryan…”
He sighs, dropping his hands away. “Seriously? Are we still pretending to be just friends? Babe, the team doesn’t care—”
“We are just friends,” I reply. “Friends who fuck to feel good. That was the rule. That was your rule,” I add, giving him a firm look.
I don’t know why I’m trying to pick a fight with him. This just feels too public. And everything is still too unsettled. I’m unsettled. I haven’t heard a word from Troy in days, but I know he’s still having me followed. I’ve had the feeling of being watched when I walk in to work, when I go to the coffee shop down the street from the bungalow. There’s a grayish-black SUV that I see around all the time.
And the last thing I want to do is hurt Ryan or involve him any deeper in my mess. He doesn’t even know about the shredded documents hiding in my closet. He doesn’t know about the harassment or the stalking. I don’t want him to know. I want us to stay in our shiny pink bubble of privacy and orgasms and feeling good.
Which is probably about to pop anyway once he hears me sing.
He searches my face, actively fighting the urge to reach out and touch me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I do what I do best and deflect. “The camera records. Shelby knows what we did.”
“Oh…shit.” He lets out a little laugh and glances over his shoulder to where Shelby and Josh have just taken their seats. “Umm, well, I’ll talk to them—”
“No need,” I reply with a weak smile. “She already exacted her revenge on me. It’s done.”
“Wait—revenge?” His eyes go wide. “Tess, what—”
“I have to go.”
“Tess—”
“Go find your seat,” I say, giving his hand a squeeze. “You wanted something to record to take with you to your away games, right? Well, this is as good as you’re gonna get.”
Ignoring his confused protests, I slip past him and make my way to the stage.
As it happens, belting out god-awful renditions of ‘Careless Whisper’ and ‘Any Man Of Mine’ to a generous crowd is a great way to flip that ‘fuck it’ switch. By the time I sing my last note and the crowd goes crazy, I beeline straight for Ryan, determined to get drunk.
“That was amazing,” he calls, waving his phone. “I got it all recorded.”
I just roll my eyes. Of course, he finds my utter lack of singing talent charming.
“Add it to the collection,” Shelby teases from across the table.
I glare at her, hands on my hips. “Now, is that never talking about it again?”
She just laughs and mimes zipping her lips shut as she moves off to go say hi to the new arrivals.
I sit down at the picnic table between Ryan and Caleb, and Cay slides me a hard cider.
“Peach?” I say, sniffing the glass.