Page 11 of Off Side
DREW
When Sam came out of the house, I knew I had rattled her. While it’s fun to play with her, I could see I might have gone too far, and she may be distracted. We have a life-changing day today, and she needs to be focused. When she opens her laptop, I pretend not to notice the way she sighs and crosses her legs. She has no idea how she’s affecting me. I discreetly check her out as I drive. Her business suit is impeccable. She’s naturally beautiful. She’s not caked in makeup like most girls at the rink, and she’s radiant. She’s so refreshing from the typical women at the rinks and bars that I’m immediately taken in by her. I have this need to protect her; it’s unsettling. Hell, I’m probably just as stressed as she is about her coach’s meeting.
We get to the rink and go our separate ways with plans to meet in the lobby about thirty minutes before our appointment with the lawyer. It’s close by, and we should be able to get there fairly quickly. I do my once over of the Zamboni and make sure it’s all set before getting on and resurfacing the ice. I’m finishing up the last pass when I glance up and notice Becky Miller waiting at the doors. Fuck. She probably knows I came here with Sam and has all kinds of ideas of what’s going to happen, and god knows what else. She has the biggest damn mouth of anyone I’ve ever met. I sadly made an error in judgement one night when I was out and drank too much. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let her give me a blow job behind the bar when I was feeling lonely. While it eased the craving, it created a mess. She always thinks I’m up for a repeat no matter how rude I am to her. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel. I shouldn’t have agreed to it because she is mighty delusional about what she calls our future. I do not need her bat shit crazy attitude today.
I drive through the doors harder than normal and immediately head straight out to dump the ice outside. I drive back in and go about my routine, completely ignoring her. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work. She’s wearing bright red, sky scraper heels and jeans so tight, I wonder how she ever got into them. Her shirt is equally tight, and I feel sorry for her. She doesn’t have a clue that her clothing is at least ten years too young for her. Becky decides to cut to the chase and tell me what’s on her mind instead of her constant innuendos.
“Hey, Drew,” she practically whines. “I saw you come in with Sam. Pretty early to be coming to the rink together, isn’t it? I sure hope you haven’t forgotten about me,” she pouts, as if we are or were ever a thing! That blow job was over two years ago for fuck’s sake.
I sigh loudly and face her. “Becky, it’s no business of yours what I do or who I do it with. There is no we and never will be. Get the fuck out of my face and go terrorize your flavour of the week and leave me alone. How much clearer do I need to be with you?” My voice is rising because she seriously gets under my skin.
“Aww, Drew, baby, don’t be like that,” she purrs and places a hand on my arm.
I visibly shudder and step back. Her expression falls, and the bitch face appears. Those are her true colours. “If you think I’m going to let that whore steal what’s mine, you are mistaken. I won’t give up!”
“Becky, listen closely. I. Am. Not. Yours,” I enunciate each word clearly. “I never was and never will be. One fucking blow job near a dumpster doesn’t make a relationship. You are one crazy bitch, and I need you to stay away from Sam, me, and this damn rink. If anyone is a whore here, it’s you. Now, leave before I say how I really feel.” I’m full-on raging and can’t stand to share the same air with her. I need to figure out how to ban her from this place. I don’t need her distracting Sam.
She steps back, then floors me with her single statement, “I would say anyone that gets caught in a compromising situation as an official, a position of authority, may be a whore as well. You might want to mind what you say to me in the future.”
My eyebrows shoot up and my eyes bug out of my head. There is no way that was what caused Sam’s disappearance from NCAA officiating. If it was, how the hell did Becky, of all people, get wind of it?
“What the fuck are you going on about, Becky?”
An all-knowing smirk appears. She sashays closer and puts her hand on my chest with her blood-red painted nails. I’m studying her face and noticing how old and tired she looks, and she’s barely thirty. “If you would like to meet me somewhere more private, I can share with you what I know. Want to make it a date?”
I step back away from her, shaking my head. I finish closing the rink door and securing the Zamboni before peeking at my watch. Sam should be waiting in the lobby, and we need to get to our meeting. I ignore Becky and her disconnect with reality and start heading to the lobby. Whatever she thinks she knows about Sam, true or not, I don’t want to hear it from her dirty mouth. It’s Sam’s story to tell.
“Drew, you really need to face the music and see she’s bad news. She’s going to bring you down, just you wait.”
I ignore her and keep walking back to the lobby. If Becky already found dirt on Sam, I need to let Sam know, and we need to get the truth out there before Becky can twist it and spread it, making it into whatever she wants.
