Things went downhill for the rest of the game—at least for the Tusks. It wasn’t quite the Keystone Cops comedy of last week though. The orcs were quickly figuring out the game and a few of them were becoming reasonably steady on their skates. Either way, the Toronto team still crushed them. Game highlights were the two early fights, the interesting strategies the orcs employed to try to stem the bleed, and how quickly Eng reacted when a group of players slammed into the wall where he’d been standing less than a second before impact. The incident completely made me revise my opinion of him in terms of fast twitch and slow twitch muscles. Strength. Endurance. Speed. And amazing reflexes. Did the other orcs have the same impressive physical skills or was Eng the exception? With appropriate training and coaching, these guys might actually be a team to watch.
And I wanted to be the one to train them.
It was an insane idea. Professional teams employed high-powered trainers with a long resume detailing their ability to hone individuals in that particular sport. I was a generalist with a bachelor’s degree and my experience was with amateurs, stay-at-home-moms, and the elderly. It would be as if someone who flew model airplanes applied to be a pilot for United. And it wasn’t like my sleeping with one of the team would get my foot in the door. First, that was a secret that neither Eng nor I had made public. Second, I got the feeling the demon who owned theteam didn’t really give two shits about what the orcs thought or wanted. No, the owner was all about money.
And there was my one advantage. I was cheap—really cheap.
Ridiculous as it was, I decided to stop daydreaming and made a vow to pitch the idea to the owner. Sooner rather than later since from their posted schedule the team was heading out of town for a series of away games soon. I’d need to put together a plan and a budget that even a demon couldn’t resist, then shoot my shot.
“Shall we drown our sorrows at a nearby pub?” I asked as we got to our feet and gathered up our coats and purses.
“I’m game,” Abby chimed in.
“I’m in,” Stephanie said.
“Me too.” Jordan added.
“You sure?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her and made a lewd gesture suggesting she might have something better to do than drink a beer after the game.
She sighed. “I think Ozar needs to digest this loss in private. He’s been trying to get the team to play…well, more like a team. He’s been making them do skating drills, and learn about the game. Back at his home he was kind of like a squadron leader for a team of scouts and fighters, and I think he’s not used to losing like this. He doesn’t need me to baby him or make excuses for tonight’s score.”
“He might need sex to take his mind off it,” Stephanie suggested.
“That’ll be tomorrow.” Jordan smiled. “Tonight he’ll beat himself up for what happened, then put together a military-style plan to turn things around.”
She really knew her man. Or orc. I felt a twinge of jealousy because I didn’t have that sort of insight about Eng at all. I assumed he wouldn’t care about the loss. He didn’t participate in the game. He stubbornly resisted any attempts to encouragehim otherwise. He would probably just go home and watch T.V. or something. Maybe write out a list of traits his meek and submissive future bride would have.
But that was the Eng he’d allowed me and probably everyone else to see. Was there a different orc underneath the cocky, arrogant exterior? Somewhere down deep, did losing chafe at him? Anger him?
I didn’t know. And I probably wouldn’t ever know. Which was one more reason I needed to stop obsessing over this guy.
The Tinder catfish attempt had stalled a bit. He’d swiped right, but hadn’t made any effort to message fake-princess me beyond that. I was torn between the urge to reach out as Princess Elsa to see if he’d follow through, and giving up the whole embarrassing, crazy scheme. I needed to let this guy go, to admit the sex was amazing but there was no future between us and cut off all contact including the catfishing ones.
We ended up at McHenry’s again. This time the orcs were nowhere to be found. Limiting myself to one beer since I needed to drive home, I chatted about a variety of new classes the gym was going to start next month and tried to convince my friends to join in this year’s polar bear plunge into the Patapsco River.
“Only in my wolf form,” Stephanie said. “No way I’m jumping in freezing water without fur.”
“Have you seen the river?” Jordan wrinkled her nose. “I’m not going to risk dysentery immersing myself in freezing waters no matter how noble the charity.”
“They’ve done a massive clean-up effort the last few decades,” I assured her. “Mom has pictures of the Inner Harbor in the seventies and holy hell was that terrifying. Looked like a landfill. All sorts of slime and trash lapping at the shore.”
“You’re not helping to convince us here.” Abby laughed. “Can we just dump water over ourselves like that ice bucket challenge we did when I was a kid?”
“No.” I scowled at them. “Come on, girls. It’s a big fundraiser for the Special Olympics. I’ll even bring a flask of bourbon so we can pregame.”
“Nowthatmight actually convince me to do it in this form,” Stephanie said.
“Hmm. Hypothermia and dysentery risk versus raising money for the Special Olympics and a few swigs of good whisky? I’m in,” Jordan announced.
Abby was a harder sell. “I’m gonna need some quid-pro-quo here, Willa. There’s the Barcs’ Runway Walk and Auction, and I’m a sucker for homeless animals, especially the house hippos.”
I grinned, knowing that Abby had a soft spot for pit bulls. “I plan on going,” I said, not letting her know that one of the reasons I was going was that Gran and her friends were donating a quilt to the auction.
“Are you also planning on donating five personal training sessions to the auction?” Abby said.
“I am now.” Might as well. Those freebies were a great way to bring in new clients, and it was for a good cause.
Abby nodded. “Then I’m planning on doing the Polar Bear Plunge, no matter how much I hate the cold and that my hair will look like absolute crap afterward.”
