Page 22 of For the Boys
“Oh, look at that one,” one of them said. Berkley instantly recognized the tall, lean copper-headed man as Parker Graff. “She’s old enough to be my mom!”
Mitch cleared his throat.
“Ladies, I’d like you to meet my teammate, Parker, and my buddy, Jay. Parker and Jay, I’d like you to meet…” Mitch looked at the girls expectantly.
“I’m Berkley, and this is Lexie,” she supplied. Berkley remembered, after she’d introduced herself, that Parker had helped out on that awful night at The Backdoor. He gave no indication that he recognized her, but Mitch squinted down at her as if he might.
Not possible, she thought.
“Ladies, ladies, nice to meet you,” Jay slurred, his brown eyes mere slits. He patted his lap. “Come have a seat.”
Berkley inwardly groaned. “I’m good.”
Mitch grabbed a chair from the table next to them and added it to theirs, providing enough seats for the five of them.
Once they were settled, it was Lexie who spoke. “Teammates?” she asked Mitch and Parker. “What sport do you play?”
Berkley nearly choked on her drink. Sweet, beautiful, clueless Lexie.
“Hockey,” Berkley, Mitch, and Parker said simultaneously. The men looked at her questioningly.
Berkley shrugged. “I’m a big Warriors fan.”
“So you knew who I was when I offered to get your drinks?” Mitch asked.
“Guilty.” She shrugged again and smiled.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Mitch said, taking a swig from his beer and laughing. “I appreciate the hell out of the fact that you didn’t go all fangirl on me.”
“I know better than to cause a scene.”
This time it was Parker who laughed and winked at Mitch. “We can keep this one.”
Mitch punched him in the shoulder and shook his head. Weird.
Sitting at a table in a crowded bar with two Warriors was surreal to Berkley, who had been a fan of the franchise for her entire life. It was fun to see them like this—Mitch buzzed and playful, Parker piss drunk and weird—because it was behavior completely at odds with their on-ice personas. Both had the temperament of angry bulls during gameplay.
Parker excused himself and several minutes later returned to the table with a tray of shots. Lexie, as if reading Berkley’s mind, shot her a warning glare.
Since the night she’d been drugged, as a rule, Berkley didn’t accept drinks she hadn’t ordered herself and personally watched the bartender pour. But, when in Rome…
Parker raised his shot high above the table. “FERDA!” he yelled, lowering his glass to the table with aclunkbefore raising it to his mouth and pouring the liquid down his throat.
The rest of the table followed suit, and when they were done, Lexie turned to Berkley.
“What the fuck does ‘ferda’ mean?” she asked in a hushed tone.
Berkley giggled, the tequila already warming her insides. “It’s a truncated version of ‘for the boys.’”
Lexie glared. “What the fuck does ‘for the boys’ mean?”
Berkley rolled her eyes. “You really should pay closer attention when I talk. It’s hockey slang that means someone who is always down for his bros.”
“That might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Berkley smacked her, and they devolved into a fit of giggles.
After the tequila loosened her up, Berkley found she was enjoying herself and was glad she’d agreed to come out with Lexie, but she found herself wishing Brent was here too. What would happen if he was next to her right now? She couldn’t even imagine it, yet she desperately wanted it to happen.
