Page 43 of Pucker Up
“You?”
“Yeah. I thought that you got my message and that’s why you’re here.”
“You called me?” I hoped that my acting skills were better than my drinking skills. I pulled my phone out of my bag and pretended to be surprised by what I saw on the screen. “I missed a call from you.”
“Do me a favor.” He poured two more drinks with even boozier proportions. “Can you go listen to that message before you leave here tonight?”
With the tips of my fingers, I nudged the drink away from me. “I’ll listen to it on the way home.”
“No, Goldie.” He rested his hand on mine. “Please listen to it now. It’s important.”
The joker was gone and the serious tone in his voice left me intrigued. “Fine. I’ll go to the restroom and listen—but then I’m going home. I have an early start tomorrow.”
He patted my hand and the sides of his mouth quivered as they turned into a smile. There was a slight tremble in his hand as he handed me my phone.
I held it up and waggled it. “I’ll be right back.”
Like the drunks earlier, I ricocheted off of a few people on the way to the restroom. I hadn’t been this intoxicated in a very long time. Once inside the stall, I locked the floor-to-ceiling glossy black door and leaned against it.
With a deep breath, I pressed the voicemail button.
FIFTEEN
GOLDIE
You’ve gottwo new messages. First message:
Professor Goldie, it’s me. I mean it’s Ace. Acer.
Fuck [mutters under breath]. Ace Bailey.
I saw that you were at the game and I wanted to thank you for your intel on Bellamy. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I did what you said to do, and it worked. It fuckin’ worked.
Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to swear on your voicemail.
I want to say thank you. Let me buy you a drink. We’re going to be at Ultimate Sports.
That’s all. Thank you.
Next message:
Hi, uh, Goldie. It’s me again. Acer.
I don’t want to say thank you. That’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, I do want to say thank you, but it’s so much more.
I have to resign from your study.
[Footsteps echoing and background noise of men chatting fall silent]
I can’t do it. I can’t walk into that room and see you and not reach out to touch you. I can’t sit in that chair and watch yourmouth move and forget what I was going to say because you’re so goddamn beautiful. I can’t talk hockey with you and pretend like it doesn’t get me rock fucking hard. I can’t keep seeing you if I can’t take you out on a proper date.
I know that you can’t date one of your subjects, so I’m resigning.
Goldie.
[Voice drops into a whisper]
I used to think that a woman would distract me from my game. But you make everything so much better. I’m not just a hockey player. I mean, I guess I am, but will you give this just-a-hockey-player a chance? Will you break that rule of yours—for me?
