My lips twist, and I would say she should just drop me a DM. But I’m not on social media, so that wouldn’t work. Nobody has my phone number, as far as I know.
Even if I’m not interested, I do feel a little guilty. “Whatever. If it’s important, she’ll be back.”
Akers shakes his head. “Any woman who looks like that is important.”
I don’t argue with him. In our line of work, we don’t have time to cultivate relationships. The best we can hope for is what Gavin and Owen got, and I’d like to remind everyonethat I played a major role in making those relationships happen.
They lived with Haddy and Gina, and through sharing a space, spending those off-hours together, things developed. Although, to be fair, in Haddy and Gavin’s case, they knew each other from college…
“Let’s get out of here.” Hancock glides up. “They’re doing karaoke at the 900. Ready to sing Murph?”
“Ahh…” I deflect, glancing at my watch.
It’s still too early to call it a night, and any other time, I’d be right up there with them, shaking my ass and singing our signature crowd-pleaser “Summer Nights.”
I learned to entertain a big group at my uncle Garrett’s knee, at our family restaurant and bar, Cooters & Shooters back in Newhope.
We all pile into the SUV driving us from Hermosa to Manhattan Beach. The radio is blasting old hair metal, and the guys sing along at the top of their lungs.
Looking out the window, I think about this weekend. It’s Saturday night, and we play again on Thursday. Tomorrow, she’ll be here.
Honestly, I didn't think I’d ever see Dove Rhodes again, and now she’s here, moving into my space for a semester at CalTech.
It’s all very friendly and totally platonic. The only thing that could make it weird is me, and I’mnotgoing to make it weird. I also don’t want to be hungover or asleep when she arrives.
“Check it out, The Three Wise Men.” Sax meets us at the SUV with his arms spread. “I was just about to leave, but if you’re here, I’ll stay.”
Inside the bright blue house, a girl is onstage doing hervery best Chappel Roan. She has a decent voice, and Akers is already at the DJ booth giving our names.
A crowd of hockey players mixes with girls in tank tops with shoulder-length bobbed hairstyles. They all kind of look the same to me, and my mind keeps drifting to light blonde hair, blue-green eyes, rosebud lips.
Akers throws his arm around my neck. “I tipped her, but she insisted ten people are ahead of us.”
Ten people. That’s at least an hour. Then another hour to drive home.
“Okay,” I say, still deciding whether I’ll stay.
For all his big talk about leaving, Sax is on the dance floor with his arms around a girl, slow dancing to the music. Hancock is in the back corner with his arm propped overhead, leaning down to talk to a woman I vaguely recognize from one of the sports podcasts.
I tilt my beer side to side. The hype of the game has worn off, and exhaustion is creeping into my bones. It’s only tempered by the anticipation of what’s on the horizon. I’m about to cash in on my Irish heritage and get the hell out of here when the DJ announces our names over the loudspeakers.
“Seems we have some real Champions here ready to bring the noise.” She sounds like a color commentator telling everyone to give it up, and Sax is onstage waving to me with Akers right behind him.
The strains of “Summer Nights” begin, and from somewhere a blonde wig is tossed onto the stage. Akers pulls it on his head, and I’ve got the mic just in time to start the opening verse.
We’re surrounded by girls doing some kind of little shimmy that bounces their hair around their shoulders.
The guys all like to do a big “HUH” at the part thatfollows, “Well-a, well-a, well-a…” Naturally, it’s accompanied by a hip thrust that makes the crowd break into cat calls and screams. A lacy bra flies through the air, nearly hitting me in the face, but Sax reaches out and grabs it, twirling it around his finger. I scan the crowd to see a young woman licking her tongue at me in a way that makes my dick respond.
Listen, I believe in treating all women with respect. I’m also not dead.
I’m Danny. Akers is Sandy, and Sax leads all the crowd parts. We lean together belting out the lyrics until it breaks down to the slow part.
I put my hand on his shoulder letting him know we’ll still be friends. He bats his eyes. Then we cap it off with the falsetto “Niii-hiiigt,” and the entire crowd joins in wanting us to tell them more.
We’re laughing, and everyone’s crowding around as we leave the makeshift stage.
“Kills every time.” Hancock holds up a hand, and I clasp it.
