Page 82 of Stroked by (Stroked)
I get that she is one of the worst humans to ever walk the planet, but can’t she be excited for Reese? They are co-stars after all, so she could show some enthusiasm.
“Bellini, aren’t you excited?” I ask.
Giving me the once-over, she curls her lip in disgust. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t like to hop up and down like some overly charged tween at a Justin Bieber concert. I prefer to hold my dignity.”
“But it’s for Reese.”
“Look around you, fool, he’s not even out there yet.” Once again, I’mrewardedwith a disdainful once-over and a smirk appears on her face. “You know, Mauve, I’m quite parched. Bring me a drink. Fiji water in the bottle with a cup of ice. Tick tock, the clock is running.” She points to her wrist.
I know exactly what she’s doing; she’s trying to ruin my experience. Fair enough, at least Reese’s race won’t be up for a bit, so I have some time to spare.
I move to leave when Melony grips my arm. “Where are you going?”
Keeping my voice low, I answer, “Bellini wants some water.”
“You’re going to miss everything.”
“Reese’s race isn’t for a while. I have some time.”
“Well, hurry up.” She winks. “You don’t want to miss anything.”
I didn’t need Melony telling me that. I give her a wink back and then take off to the concession area, knowing fully well they’re not going to have Fiji water, but thanks to my mastery of knowing Bellini’s demands, I keep an empty bottle in my purse at all times and just fill it up with whatever water I can find and then pour it for her. I would use tap water from the bathroom, but for some reason, the water always comes out murky, so it would be obvious it’s water from the tap.
So, I head over to the concession stand and wait in line. From above, I can hear the announcers talking about the first race and introducing the swimmers. The energy in the stadium is contagious and even though it’s not one of Reese’s races, I still want to watch the other swimmers compete. I’ve heard bits and pieces from Reese about his other previous teammates, especially Bodi Banks. I want to see just how good they are.
“Can I help you, miss?” the concession store worker asks.
“Yes, one water please, the big one, and a cup with ice.” I pull out my wallet and use the credit card Jasper gave me. Luckily, I didn’t have to charge any of Bellini’s crazy demands to my own card. I would be about three hundred dollars in debt due to Tic Tacs and obscene Starbuck’s orders.
“That will be five dollars and fifty cents.”
Feeling like Tom Hanks inYou’ve Got Mailwhen he hears the price of the books he’s buying, I shake my head and swipe the card. Concession stands should all go to hell for the price gouging they take part in.
“Enjoy the meet.”
“Thanks.” I nod at the worker and go in the bathroom where I can have a steady hand while I pour.
There are TVs everywhere, even in the bathroom so when I set my purse on the counter, I watch the first race take place. The camera is panned out for an above-the-pool view, arms fly through the water until the line of swimmers hit the wall and float under water for a few seconds before resurfacing and disturbing the water once again. I can barely doggy paddle my way across a pool, so it’s insane to me that humans can move that fast through water.
Wanting to get back into the stadium, I pull out the Fiji water bottle, uncap it and then do the same with the other, less fancy water, that still tastes equally the same. Don’t try to tell me they don’t. It’s water.
Funneling carefully, I pour the water in, making sure to fill it to just the right height that won’t throw Bellini off. Just a little bit more . . .
“What are you doing?”
Startled, I shake the water bottle, spilling contents all over my hand and on the counter. I turn to see Pocket standing against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and a devious look in her eyes.
Shit, I forgot she was quarantined from Bellini due to “sweating like a cow” or was it a gorilla of some kind? I can’t quite remember; Bellini’s insults can be rather erratic. Honestly, the girl smelled fine to me, I didn’t see what the big deal was.
“Oh, hey there . . .” Do I call her Pocket? It just seems so demeaning to call her something other than her real name, but what the hell was her real name? Patricia? Polly? I couldn’t remember. So I went with something simple. “You. What’s going on?” I lean against the counter, striking a casual pose, trying not to look like I was just caught red-handed.
“I’m wondering the same thing about you. Is that water for Bellini?”
I glance down at the water bottle and then back up at her.
I could lie, come up with some foreign reason as to why I’m putting water into this water bottle, or I could lie in a good way—if there really is one—where it makes it seem like I care about Bellini and looking out for her best interest, I choose the latter.
“It is.” I nod. “She’s thirsty.”
