Page 47 of He Has It All (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
I’d always prided myself on staying away from innocents, sticking to playing with players, women who know the score and who have score cards to rival my own. Puck bunnies and social climbers, aspiring models and cool, sophisticated business women. Those were my type. Not the girl next door who went to the Olympics all starry-eyed and came back with ambition and grit. For some reason she tried to hide the starry eyes, but they were still there. Buried. Why the hell she wanted to bury herself, bury what made her special under a layer of fake indifference, I don’t know, but I want to find out. Needed to find out.
Not that fucking her was the right way to do it. Why did I make an exception to my ironclad rule for the Wilde child?
And why the fuck do I want nothing to do anymore with my so-calledtypeof women?
But I shut down that line of thinking because I don’t really want to know.
I follow Chelsea to the car, reminding myself I can’t talk to her with Gramps around and to keep it light and polite. No flirting.
“I’ll take the back seat,” I say.
“You sure?” Chelsea says. “You’ll be cramped for space back there.”
She’s right, but I don’t care. No way am I sitting next to her in said cramped space. Not even for the ten-minute drive to the ferry.
“Let him sit in back. I want to ride shotgun,” Gramps confirms.
“By the way,” I say. “I took a limo down to Hyannis from Boston, so I don’t have a car.”
“Are you saying you need a ride all the way back to Charlestown?” She’s incredulous.
“Great,” Gramps says, smiling. Chelsea gives me a skeptical look in the rearview.
Sucking it up, I settle into my seat sideways and say, “I’ll probably sleep the whole way back.”
* * *
Gramps isthe one who falls asleep in the car on the way from the Cape to Boston, about an hour and a half drive. My tension builds as we get closer to home, as if my time is running out to fix things. Not that I know how.
It occurs to me to turn my phone on since I’ve had it off for the duration. The last thing I’d wanted was any intrusion on the weekend’s bubble of unreality. The number of missed calls is small since most people who have my number have been with me all weekend. The call from my agent, XX stands out, so I call him back.
“Hope you enjoyed your weekend. How was your sister’s wedding?” he says. He’s a decent guy. One of the best at making money for his clients, but not a dickhead about it. I can’t blame my current overblown reputation on him. I’ve gone along with the endorsements and appearances—no, I’ve gone overboard with the whole playboy-at-large image all on my own with no arm-twisting from him. In fact, there were a couple of occasions he’d advised me to take a pass. Once I even took his advice—for instance, I did not do that ad for a new brand of condoms.
“It was cool. Fun to see the family, good to see her and Levi happy.”
“I saw a couple things on social media and one spot on BeanTown Sports, but all in all it looks like you kept out of trouble. It amazes me how you continue to walk that fine line between man about town and out-of-control party boy.”
“Thanks. I think.” Glancing at the rearview, I see Chelsea’s eyes are on the road as we get close to Boston. Lowering my voice, I say, “Look, about theSports Illustratedspread. I made a deal for some side publicity.”
“Oh yeah? Let me guess, your very own Gossip Girl got to you.”
“Fuck you. She’s going to let it slip on air that I’m doing the shoot—probably tomorrow. Make sureSIis cool with it. Also, make sure she has a pass to be at the shoot, to take her own photos of—”
“You shitting me? Photos of the shoot?”
“Yes.” I clamp my mouth shut because my voice is rising and she checks me out in the mirror. I nod a smile at her. “It’ll be fine.”
“You do realize you’re going to be bare-ass naked at that shoot.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you’re going to let Gossip Girl take side photos?”
“Yes. She promised the shots will be tasteful. No full frontal nudity. And you’re going to make sureSIis cool with it.”
“Oh, they’ll be cool. I can sell it as extra publicity for them, because it will be. It’ll increase anticipation leading up to the issue’s release, increase sales. A bit cha-ching for them. They’ll be so thrilled they’ll probably beg you to come back and do it again.”
“Never going to happen again.” My voice is low and firm and serious as a surgeon.
