Page 20 of Good Vibes Only
“You will. They can’t be making that much noise forever, can they?” she asked rhetorically. “I mean,surelythey’re making progress, right?”
“Unless the owner is totally incompetent or something,” I said ominously.
“What are they putting in next door, anyway?”
“A brewery,” I said simply, without judgment, because I wanted to see her unbiased reaction.
“Oh, lord.Anotherbrewery,” she said. “Just what Las Vegas needs.”
“YES! THANK YOU!” I said triumphantly. “I had the same exact reaction. And that’s why I love ya.”
She giggled.
“But Sof, I didn’t even tell you the best part. So today, the owner came by . . .”
I gave Sofia a blow-by-blow retelling of my run-in with the brewery owner, whom I referred to as Trust Fund Guy. Amused, she gasped at Trust Fund Guy’s brazenly entitled requests and laughed at all the little digs I got in on him.
“I can’t believe you didn’t rub it in his face that you’re basically hockey royalty,” she said.
“I’m not hockey royalty.” I snickered. “If anybody’s hockey royalty, it’s you. You’re the queen and I’m the—what do they call the queen’s assistant? Oh yeah—the lady-in-waiting. That’s me.”
“Noo! You can’t be my servant. You’ve got a higher rank than that, surely.” She laughed. “What I mean is, compared to some random bar owner, youarehockey royalty. You’re going to a hockey party, y’know? You could’ve helped that guy if he helped you. You scratch his back, he scratches yours, you know? Instead, he shot himself in the foot.”
I nodded. “And it’s a shame. Really a shame. Because he might have been the first short guy I’ve ever been legitimately attracted to. Like, before things got dark, I kept hoping he was about to ask me out. And you know how I feel about short guys.”
“Huh!” Sofia said, surprised. “Was he really that hot?”
“He’s stupidly handsome,” I said grudgingly. “And buff as hell, too.”
“But then he had to open his mouth,” Sofia said, shaking her head somberly.
“Yup. Exactly.”
“Oh well. Maybe you’ll meet a nice distraction at Showtime’s party.”
I stroked my chin. “Remind me, which one is Showtime again?”
Her head jerked over to me, shock in her eyes. “Wow, you don’t watch much hockey at all, do you?”
“I’ve only seen the games you’ve taken me to, Sof.”
“Well, Showtime’s probably the third-best player on the team.”
I grinned. “Lemme guess, first and second best are Brock and Connor, right?”
“I’m shameless, I know.”
“I guess the real question is, in your mind, who’s number one and who’s number two?”
“Mac, please. You know they’re both tied for first place in my heart. This wouldn’t work any other way.” She smiled coyly. “But anyway, Showtime’s really good. If I weren’t so biased, I might even admit he’s the best player on the Sin. He’s leading the team in goals and points right now.”
“Oooooh, wait! Is Showtime the little guy?”
Her nose wrinkled. “I guess so. I wouldn’t call himlittle,necessarily. He’s about the same height as me. But he’s the shortest player on the team, yeah.”
“Okay, yeah, I remember seeing him now.”
I didn’t think I’d met him in person yet; I’d only seen him play. It’s easy to spot him on the ice because he looks so much smaller than everyone else. You kinda don’t realize how big NHL players are, actually, until you saw Showtime on the ice. And you’d think he’d getkilledout there, surrounded by giants in such a physical game. But he’s so fast and so shifty on his skates, every time someone tries to hit him,zip,he stops on a dime or spins out of the path of destruction, and the guy who tried to murder him a second ago goescrashinginto the boards, hurting only himself.
