Page 11 of Icing the Cougar
“You just had to pick the most public place possible for this little gathering, huh Jazz?” Zach says. His chirping knows no bounds. “Couldn’t resist the chance to let everyone know you’re slumming it with the rest of us?” I roll my eyes and sip my beer.
Alfie snorts into his whiskey sour. "At least he didn't suggest team bonding at another escape room."
"So, how’s Operation Suburban Dream going? You buying property or just pretending to adult?" Zach asks me.
"Fuck off," I say, kicking him under the table.
“I’m just following up on what you were saying about your need to have more space since we built that gym in Riley and Amelia’s new house. You know, space for all your… extracurricular activities?”
My jaw twitches. “It’s not for—”
Riley leans forward, wedding band catching the lounge's mood lighting. "Saw that Victorian listing near Wrigleyville. Three stories? Bold choice."
Zach's grin turns feral. He spins his empty glass between palms still taped from practice. "Three floors for three rotating harems? Smart play, Wright. Master bedroom, guest suite, and... what's the third? Sex dungeon?"
"Home theater," I correct through clenched teeth. The back of my neck burns hotter than Zamboni fumes. "With surround sound."
"Sure, sure." Zach waggles his eyebrows at a group of women passing our booth - their sequined dresses catching blue light from the ice bar. "But let's be real - you're building a Bunny Hutch. Custom lockers for their Blades jerseys? Mini fridge for champagne?"
The waitress chooses that moment to deliver another round. I slam back half of my fresh beer before growling, "It's an investment property."
"Right," Riley says in that infuriatingly calm newlywed tone. "Like how Amelia 'invested' in separate closets?"
Laughter erupts around the table. Even Alfie's shoulders shake silently. I flip them all off just as my phone buzzes with a new Zillow alert - craftsman bungalow, hardwood floors, breakfast nook sunlit enough to highlight hypothetical morning-after... Trinity sitting at a small table in the nook drinking coffee in nothing except a short satin robe comes to mind, and I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips.
Zach snatches my phone. "Ooh, granite countertops!" He holds it up like a referee showing a penalty replay. "Perfect for... meal prep." He exaggerates a wink.
“Fuck you,” I grumble, hoping he will let this go, and I snatch my phone back.
“Don’t play modest,” Zach says, sloshing his whiskey gingerly as he leans forward. “We all know you need space for your rotating roster.” He mimes stacking invisible boxes. Zach leans over and whisper-shouts to Alfie, “Our boy’s just being civic-minded—providing shelter for Chicago’s most enthusiastic hockey fans.”
Heat crawls up my neck, and I flip off Zach as our waitress arrives with another round. Her smile lingers two seconds too long when she hands me my drink.
Zach catches it anyway. “Case in point,” he says, gesturing with a tilt forward of his glass. “Better add a revolving door to those blueprints.”
The laugh that punches out of me sounds harsher than intended. “Fuck you.”
Then right as I lift my beer bottle to take another drink, I spot him. The bastard. All the noise and good vibes die inside me. “I’m gonna kill that fucker,” I mutter. My hands ball into fists, tight as I can make them.
Riley sees me tense and follows my stare. “Who’s the fancy douche in the suit?”
“Trouble,” I say.
“You sure?” Alfie asks. “Could just be some business dude.”
“Trin sure didn’t think so,” I say. That shuts them up for a second. I’ve got my eye on the suit, ready to rip him apart, when he gets up and heads for the bathroom. Perfect.
“What’d he do, man?” Zach asks. He sounds more sober now. “Looks like you wanna murder the guy.”
“That’s the idea,” I say. I get up to follow, and they scramble after me.
Zach throws an arm over my shoulder, trying to reel me in. “Maybe think it through, yeah? No point getting your ass thrown out.”
Alfie nods, cool as always. “Or arrested.”
I keep walking. “Gonna talk to him first. See how he likes it when someone ruins his night.”
The guys try to slow me down, but it’s no use. The suit’s weaving through tables, but I’ve got him in my sights. He passes the bathrooms and pushes open a side door and slips outside, into the alley. It’s dark and slick with rain. I couldn’t have planned this more perfect if I’d tried.
