Page 27 of Puck Lust

By the timeI get on the plane the next day, Jack is already buried in the back row against the window of the chartered plane. His face is covered by dark sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

I know it’s him because he’s had that LA Dodgers cap since the days we played junior hockey together. It’s faded and the brim is a little frayed all these years later, but it’s his. I’d bet my left nut on that.

The duffel bag occupying the seat next to him is a clear signal that he wants to be left alone.

Heat bubbles deep in my chest. I guess he must’ve had a late night.

Grinding my teeth together, I find an empty seat next to Masterson and collapse into it.

He gives me a sympathetic look. “Sorry, man.”

I furrow my brow. “About what?”

“Seriously?”

I shrug. “Not sure what you mean.”

He leans in close. “That chick you brought last night? Taking off with the band after the show? You’re not even alittle bit pissed off?”

“I couldn’t give a shit less,” I say. “We’re not exclusive. Haven’t really ever been. If she wants to be in the middle of a gang bang with those guys, that’s on her.”

Masterson makes a face. “Fuck. She’s gonna be a walking STD, bro. I hope your dick doesn’t end up falling off because of what you might catch from her.”

“Thanks, my dick has no intention of being anywhere near her ever again,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I think last night kind of confirmed that we’re over for good.”

He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Good. I mean, she’s hot, but what the fuck? She’d have sucked Lane’s dick right there on stage if he asked.”

My lips press together. “Not helping, Masterson.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, man.” He shakes his head. “Look, I didn’t mean to overstep. I know we haven’t known each other long. Didn’t mean to be an ass.”

“I appreciate it. And for the record, you’re not an ass. You’re just being a friend.” I rub the back of my neck, the stress knot lodged there because of all the tossing and turning I did last night waiting for sleep that never came. And it wasn’t because of Livvie and Lane, either.

He grins. “Don’t worry. There are plenty more fish in the sea. I heard the flight attendants whispering about you when I got up to take a leak before. You won’t be lonely long, bro.”

I relax against the push seat and loosen my tie. If the flight attendants were carbon copies of the famous LSU gymnast Livvy Dunne, I wouldn’t have noticed since I was too focused on Jack sprawled in that seat and wondering what the fuck has him so goddamn tired out.

I grip the armrests, my fingertips numbing from the pressure as we taxi down the runway, preparing for takeoff.

Then I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the scenes mymind has been working overtime to concoct of Jack and that fucking dickhead guy.

How could he leave with him? How could he be so ignorant about that guy’s true intentions? What if he filmed a video of them fucking and is getting paid to leak it to the press? I heard him say something about “having everything ready.”

What the hell did he want to have ready?

My temples throb, the engine of the plane growling loudly as we gain altitude.

Three hours and six minutes.

That’s how long it took to get to the private airfield outside of Columbus.

But with these frenzied thoughts polluting my brain, it feels like we’ve been stuck in the air for half the damn day.

The team files out the door of the plane but I linger, waiting for Jack to finally get out of his recliner. One of the flight attendants rushes toward me. She bends down to scoop something off the floor and holds out her hand.

I smile and take the sunglass case from her. “Thanks. I didn’t even realize it slipped out.”

“No problem,” she says. Her cheeks are bright pink, eyes a deep blue. Masterson glances back at me and gives me a not-so-subtle thumbs-up.

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