“Zip it.” I shot Jackie a quick glance and she backed away with her hand over her mouth to cover up how hard she was laughing.
“I don’t know if I would say I am famous, but I do play for the New York Otters.” The back of my neck prickled.
“I’m Etta.” She held out her hand to shake mine.
“I’m Gret.”
“That isn’t a name that you hear all that often.”
“It’s a nickname.”
“What’s it short for?”
I swallowed hard. “You have to promise to not laugh.”
Holding up three fingers, Etta smiled. “Scout’s honor, I will not laugh.”
“My name is Gretzky Hayes.” I hated my fucking name. Why couldn’t my parents name me something normal like they did for my two older siblings? My brother got Garrett and my sister got Gwen. And there I was with the stupidest first name that I could never live up to.
“So you had no choice but to become a hockey player, then?” I could see Etta fighting back hysterics. “And I thought it was bad that my mom named me Etta and threw me into voice lessons when I was three.”
“I guess both of our sets of parents had high hopes for us. At least you are incredibly capable to fill the shoes you were born in to. I am middle-of-the-road at best when it comes to talent.”
“Come on now, don’t sell yourself short.”
“Well, you’re not the only one that had a shit night. We can just leave it at that.”
“So, your boyfriend dumped you in the middle of a set, told you that he already sublet the apartment and brought you a bag with a weekend’s worth of stuff in it, too?”
“Fuck. That is really awful.”
“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes before sipping her amber drink.
“I lost the game for my team a few hours ago.”
“At least you have a place to stay tonight.” Her eyes locked onto the bar top as her voice broke a little.
A lightbulb went off with the most asinine idea that I could have possibly come up with. It was probably the liquor mixed with my crippling need to do something good after a baleful loss.
“Ok, this is going to be so fucking forward but here it goes. Come home with me tonight.”
Her eyes got wide as she shook her head. “I don’t even know you.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be creepy or get in your pants. I have a spare room in my apartment. You don’t have anywhere to go, I have an extra bed. Simple as that.”
“Fuck it.” Etta chugged the rest of her drink. “It’s not like I am going to be able to find a room in Manhattan this late. Just promise you won’t skin suit me in the middle of the night.”
“What? Fuck no. What in the world does that even mean.”
“You need to watch more crime dramas.”
“Apparently.”
Chapter 3
Etta
What the fuck am I doing?
