“I have a goddamn flight tonight. They’re not gonna let me into Canada with a dick on my forehead.”
“That’s tonight?” Lance asks.
“Yeah, man. I told you that already.” At least I assumed I did.
Natasha stops laughing long enough to ask, “Are you going to see Sunny?”
“Not if I can’t get this off!” I point to the dick on my forehead.
“Who’s Sunny?” Dick Yeller asks.
“Miller’s girlfriend,” Randy says.
“I thought his name was Buck.”
“It’s a nickname,” I reply. “What is this? Permanent marker? How do I get rid of it?”
“Makeup remover might work.” the one from the couch says.
“Do one of you girls have some of that handy?”
The two at the breakfast bar shake their heads. The quiet one on the couch perks up. “Oh! I have hand sanitizer!” She jumps up and runs off. One minute later she comes back with three little bottles and pats a stool.
I take a seat. She pours a bunch into her palm; it smells fruity.
“You’re sure this is going to work?”
“It’s worth a shot.” She grabs a napkin and dabs it in the sanitizer. “It’s got alcohol in it.” She starts working on my forehead. “Wow, this stuff is hard to get off.” She uses a bigger glob, and this time it goes in my eyes. It burns like crazy.
“Oh! Sorry! Maybe it’d be better if you lie down.”
“When you’re done with the dick removal, drink this and come outside.” Natasha sets a glass on the counter, along with two painkillers, and saunters out of the kitchen. Randy takes Dick Yeller and the other one at the breakfast bar outside with Natasha.
Natasha’s used to this bullshit, including arriving when there are still leftovers from the night before wandering around the house. Lance’s pad is a revolving door of chicks and parties.
I lie on the floor, even though the couch is less than ten feet away, and the quiet chick sits beside me, crossing her legs.
“I feel like if you’re going to rub a dick off my forehead, I should know your name.”
Her smile is muted by her pursed lips. “I’m Poppy. Lance is a real joker.”
“Yup. That’d be him. Thanks for taking care of the dick on my head.”
“No problem.” She rubs some stinky hand sanitizer into my skin. “Kristi’s been following his career ever since he got drafted.”
“Who?”
“The girl he was with last night.”
“The one without the underwear?” I’m not going to be the one to tell her Lance goes through girls like a hooker goes through johns.
“That’d be Kristi. And I didn’t sleep with Lance when she was done.”
“Uh—”
“Sorry. I don’t why I told you that.” She pours some of the sanitizer directly on my forehead. I can’t see her face, but she sounds embarrassed.
“Lance is fun. He’s not down for a relationship, you know?”
“Oh, I know. I went to grade school with him; then we moved away for a few years. He used to tease me all the time. Anyways, we were kids. He’s different now. But then, so am I, I guess.”
I’ve only known Lance since I was traded, so I don’t know what he was like before he made the NHL. He’s a cocky bastard at the best of times now. “Does he know you know each other?”
“I don’t think he even remembers me. It’d be better if you didn’t tell him. You guys are good friends, right?”
I can’t decide if she’s a stalker, a fan, or something else. She’s got this look on her face, similar to the one I get when I’m not allowed to order chicken wings.
I give her a vague nod in reply. “Now you gotta tell me why you don’t want him to know you know each other.”
“No way.” She wipes at my forehead more aggressively. “This is on really good.”
“I’m gonna punch Lance in the dick.”
“It’s a pretty great drawing.”
“So what’s the history with him?”
“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”