Authors: Kerrie Dubrock
* * *
The
next night Grace sat on her couch with Chewy curled happily in her lap. She
held the television remote in her hand and scanned through the channels,
mindlessly, waiting for Justice.
The
sports channel was showing the Wind game against the Canucks so she kept the
channel locked there and muted the television when her phone rang.
“I’m
sorry, love, but I’m going to be very late tonight,” Justice murmured into the
phone.
Grace
glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Geez, it’s already nine. Why bother?”
“I’d
like to see ya, that’s why. Grace? What’s wrong?”
She
blew out a hard breath. “Nothing. Look, why don’t we just see each other
tomorrow? I’ve had a hell of a week and you’ve been working a lot, too.”
“Okay,”
he sighed. “I’m off all day tomorrow. Maybe we can take in a museum or
something?”
“I
have two potential clients lined up tomorrow. So I won’t be able to get away
from the office until three at the earliest.”
“Tomorrow
then. I’ll come to your office,” he paused. “I miss you.”
She
bit her lip. “Miss you, too.” Goddess help her, she did.
* * *
Before
the second period began, Grace ran into the kitchen and pulled a chocolate bar
from the drawer, along with a can of soda. Chewy meowed at her. “Hey, I didn’t
have dinner, okay? Get off my back, liver lips.”
* * *
While
the rest of the team chatted about the game, Rick pulled out his cell phone and
brought up the photo application. He scanned through the pictures of Grace; his
gut twisted at every photo of her smiling. Smiling just for him. Now she gave
her smile to someone else.
“Ricochet?
Do you think you can keep fucking Ballard off my ass so I can make a goddamn
goal?” rookie Mike Leary growled.
Rick
tore his attention from the phone and stared blankly at Leary. “Maybe it’s not
so much Ballard, but your ability to hit the fucking net.”
His
comment drew laughs as well as outraged breaths from teammates.
He
stood up and threw his phone in the locker. “Don’t get your vagina full of
sand, Leary. I’ve got ya covered.”
* * *
“Who
the fuck is this Ballard guy and why is he such a dick?” Grace yelled at the
television.
Doug
Ballard, the Canucks goon, slammed Wind players into the glass in a frenzy. It
was his job to be the enforcer, a job he thoroughly enjoyed.
Mike
Leary played the center position and sped up the ice with the puck in the
center of his blade. He was on a breakaway when Ballard came up behind him and
jabbed him in the back, sending Leary sprawling across the ice.
Rick
watched from the blue line and dropped his gloves, skating towards Ballard.
“Hey! Asshole!” he yelled.
Ballard
had been waiting the entire first period for O’Shea to drop the mitts. It’d be
his pleasure to kick the cocky fucker’s ass.
“C’mon
O’Shea! Let’s see what you got, pretty boy!” Ballard taunted.
Rick
lifted his fists, mimicking Ballard and they circled a few times before Rick
grew tired of the pussy stalling. He threw the first punch, which just caught
the side of Ballard’s face.
Ballard
laughed, “That all ya got?” Then he struck Rick square in the nose.
Grace
jumped from the couch when blood flew from Rick’s face. “Oh my Goddess! Hit him
back!” she shrieked.
Rick
momentarily lost his balance and gripped Ballard’s jersey for support. He
stood, shaking the hit off and brought his fist back, hitting Ballard in the
mouth.
The
commentator yelled, “Whoa! Was that a tooth that flew out of Ballard’s mouth?”
“That’s
it! That’s it!” Grace yelled. “Beat the shit out of him!”
Still
woozy from the hit to the nose, Rick tried to back away, but Ballard gripped
the neck of his jersey and threw one punch after another, until the linesmen
finally pulled him away from Rick.
Grace
gasped and covered her mouth at the sight of Rick’s crumpled body on the ice.
* * *
Justice
caught the fight just as it ended. “Feck!” he muttered. “Get up!” he yelled at
the television. When the assistant coach and medics ran on the ice to Rick’s
aide, Justice groaned.
* * *
Grace
rocked on the balls of her feet when the medic bent over Rick. “Please get up!
Please be okay!” she sobbed.
Her
breath caught in her throat when a stretcher was pulled onto to the ice.
Rick
sat up and waved a hand at the stretcher. No fucking way was he going to be
taken off the ice on a stretcher. “I can get off the ice myself!” he growled.
“It’s
precautionary, Rick. You don’t have a choice,” assistant coach Mikka muttered.
When
they lifted Rick onto the gurney and strapped him down, he lifted a thumbs up,
indicating to fans and teammates that he was okay.
Grace
smiled through tears and yelped when the phone rang. She quickly picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Aye,
gel. I just got home. Did I wake you?” Justice murmured into the phone.
“No.
I’m watching the game.”
Justice’s
heart sank. “Oh. I just turned it on meself. Who’s being taken off on a
stretcher?”
“Rick.
That asshole Ballard wouldn’t let up on him! He punched Rick in the nose.
Doesn’t that asshole know shit like that can kill a person?” she shrieked.
Justice
rolled his eyes. “A punch in the nose willna kill a man.”
“I
meant fighting in general,” she snipped.
* * *
“Just
fucking do it!” Rick yelled at the team doctor.
“Okay,
but if your nose looks fucked up and crooked, remember you told me to do this
instead of going to the hospital,” Dr. Cody barked back.
Tears
formed in Rick’s eyes when Cody placed his hands over his face. “Breathe deeply
through your mouth,” Cody ordered, before dragging his hands down Rick’s nose.
“Mother
fuck!” Rick yelled when his nose was reset.
Cody
quickly applied ice to the area and told Rick to hold the ice pack. “It’ll help
with the swelling,” he offered.
“When
can I get back on the ice?”Rick winced.
“Maybe
tomorrow, but not before.”
Rick
shook his head and got off the table. “Fuck that. I’m playing.” He began to
walk away when he felt woozy and went down to the floor.
* * *
“Well,
too bad!” Grace snipped at the phone after she hung up with Justice. She
glanced at Chewy. “He’s pissed because I’m worried about Rick. Would he prefer
me to be a heartless bitch?”
She
sat on the couch and waited for the commentators to say something,
anything
about Rick. At the beginning of the third period they finally said that he was
resting and wouldn’t be back on the ice for the rest of the evening.
“What
the hell does that mean? He’s resting?” she huffed, picking up her phone.
Her
call went to voice mail. “Hi Rick, it’s Grace. I’m watching the game and well,
I’m freaking out. I don’t know if you’re okay or not and the goddamn guys
covering the game aren’t saying shit. Please be okay!” her voice cracked and
she continued. “When you feel up to it or
if
you feel up to it, give me
a call so I know that you’re okay. Okay?”
* * *
Rick
sat gloomily in the locker room with an ice pack on his face and watched the
game from the television. Ballard received a four minute penalty and Gramps
made the Canuck’s goalie eat a puck. The Wind was up by two.
He
rubbed his temple.
What the fuck was in that shit Zee gave me? I’ve never
passed out like that before.
“Hey
Ricochet, how ya feeling?” Brice asked, sitting next to him.
Rick
shrugged, “Sore. Hey, can you grab my phone for me? I need to call my mom in
case she’s watching.”
Brice
returned shortly and handed him the phone. He listened to the message from
Grace with half an ear and snorted.
Big deal. She’s worried.
* * *
The
next day Grace practically attacked Zee when she walked in. “Have you heard
from Dmitri?”
Zee
smiled. “Oh yeah. Phone sex is the best!”
Grace
shook her head. “No! I mean, how’s Rick?”
“Oh.
He’s okay, despite getting his nose broke. Sore as hell and has black eyes.”
“Oh,”
she frowned. “I left a message for him last night and thought maybe he’d call
me to let me know he’s okay.”
“Oh
baby, I’m sorry. Before he boarded the plane the other night I gave him
something to forget about you,” Zee muttered sadly.
“What?
Why would you do that?” Grace shrieked, ringing her hands.
“Because
it was killing me so see him hurting so much,” Zee replied matter-of-factly.
* * *
November
20
th
Rick
glanced at himself in the mirror and smiled. The swanky hair stylist in Los
Angeles did a great job on his hair. The change in his appearance made him not
only look older, but he felt older, too. His nose was just the way it was
before he left for the road trip and only residual green outlined his eyes. He
adjusted his tie and stepped out the door.
* * *
“Grace!
You need to relax!” Becky Martin urged. “For heaven’s sake! You look like
you’re ready to pass out!”
“I
feel
like I’m gonna pass out,” Grace whined. “Can I get a glass of wine
over here?”
Becky
motioned with her hand to the server to make it a large glass. “C’mon,” Becky
giggled, taking Grace’s hand. She pushed her in front of a full length mirror.
“You’re worrying for nothing! You look beautiful, Grace.”
Grace
shuddered at her image. The little black dress just skimmed the tops of her
thighs and there was a cut-out on either side of her hips, exposing more skin.
She gaped at her braless breasts and groaned. “My dress is so short that I had
to shave more than my legs, Becky! And my boobs are practically spilling out of
the top!” She eyed Becky and snarled, “Are you sure this is just a dinner-dance
thing?”
Becky
handed her a tall glass of wine and giggled. “Yes, nothing illegal here.
Honest!”
Grace
chugged the wine and gasped, “What if no one bids on me?”
Becky
shook her head. “You worry too much. Now come on, you’re up next!”
* * *
“And
our final bachelorette of the evening, Miss Grace Ryan of Bewitching Designs,”
the announcer called.
All
heads turned to the stage, but the stage was empty.
“Grace,
get out there!” Becky growled, pushing Grace towards the stage.
Grace
dug her four-inch heels in. “I’m gonna pass out!”
“No.
You’re. Not!” Becky ground out, pulling Grace on the stage. She waved a quick,
awkward hand to the guests. “Grace is just a little nervous.” The crowd laughed
and clapped when Grace made a small curtsey.
The
announcer cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Grace Ryan from Bewitching
Designs. Recently, Grace worked with Storm Design Group designing two model
homes for the Sunset Ridge subdivision located in the far south suburbs.
Chicago magazine recently published an article about her joint venture with
the
famous Chase Storm. Our starting bid for this lovely lady is two hundred
dollars. Do I have any bids?”
Grace
looked up at the ceiling and wished it’d cave in on her.
Please, someone bid
two hundred bucks so I can get the fuck off the stage.
“Five
hundred dollars! Do I hear six?” the announcer barked. “C’mon folks, the money
is going to a worthy cause as you all know. And as an added bonus, you’ll get
to spend the entire evening with a beautiful woman!”
Grace
peered into the audience and saw Justice with an auction paddle. He shot her a
wink. She shook her head at him.
“One
thousand dollars! Do I hear eleven hundred?”
Justice
glanced around. Who the feck was bidding on his girl? He lifted his paddle.
“Eleven…wait!
Fifteen hundred!” the announcer chuckled. “Do I hear two thousand?”
Grace
shook her head at Justice.
Don’t bid on me anymore! You can’t afford it!
He
smirked at her and lifted his paddle again.
“Twenty-five
hundred! Do I dare ask three thousand?”
Grace
passed a glance at Becky who stood at the side of the stage. She shrugged in
response.