Two Skid Marks Read online

"An umbrella and a cherry?"

  "Don't forget the monkey," he said and gestured to the small plastic monkey perched on the lip of the glass.

  "How could I forget the monkey," I deadpanned.

  Adam scowled and took a sip of his colourful cocktail. "I needed that."

  "How many times did you fall over?"

  "They said they lost count somewhere after fifty-five," he grumbled. "But said by the end I wasn't doing too bad. They still have hope for me, but I'll be sitting on the bench for Friday's game."

  "That's good," I replied distractedly. Jake had walked past, within sniffing range.

  I inhaled and almost choked on air when the object of my crush claimed the chair across from me. Adam unhelpfully slapped me on the back and suggested I have a sip of drink. He of course meant my drink and not his, which I accidentally picked up in my panic, and then accidentally stabbed myself in the eye with the stupid umbrella.

  "Argh," I complained, my eye all squinty. "Ew, is that pineapple?"

  I blinked rapidly. When I could see again I found Adam had mysteriously swapped places with Jake, who now rubbed his hand on my back. I just about swallowed my tongue in shock but managed to somehow keep my wits about me for a change.

  "You okay, Princess?" he asked, concern evident on his face. Behind him I caught sight of the still-glaring Rick. He really wasn't a happy man. And wait, was that a black eye?

  Jake glanced over to see what had my attention. "I didn't expect him to come."

  "You invited him?"

  "Well he is on the team. He doesn't usually come out for drinks. So I didn't think he would, not after last week."

  "What happened last week?" I asked, curious.

  "Nothing much," was all he said before he changed the topic. "So why the roller derby?"

  I looked to Adam, who shrugged, the kind most would mistake for I don't know. I knew better, though. He did know. It was Adam's faux don't know shrug. Interrogating him would have to wait though. Right now my lady bits demanded I pay attention to the sweet morsel of manliness that still had his hand on me. Squee! Wait, hadn't the morsel asked me a question?

  I licked my lips as I decided what to say. His gaze zeroed in on my mouth. One point in his favour. He wasn't looking at my tits. I was tempted to do it again but decided not to push my luck.

  "It wasn't my idea," I told him. I wanted to make that perfectly clear. "But alcohol was involved and hot guys and—"

  "Girl power!" Adam helpfully added from the sidelines.

  "And girl power played a part."

  Jake smiled, revealing his celebrity-perfect teeth. "Sounds interesting. What I want to know is, should I be jealous of the hot guy part?"

  Adam snorted and I kicked him under the table. Hard. He knew it was coming though and had moved his legs out of the way. Instead of kicking him, I kicked the table and stubbed my toe. Bastard. He knew that I knew that he would have let slip about Jake being one of the above-mentioned hot guys. Wait…he knew…I knew. Was I drunk?

  "Ow."

  "Are you okay?" Jake asked, concerned again. He probably thought I was the most accident-prone girl ever and regretted talking with me. I knew I would. Well, if I were a guy and I was in his place talking with me and that me was as bad as the real me, then yeah. Maybe I was drunk.

  "Fine," I said through gritted teeth.

  Jake didn't look convinced but let it go. "Let me get you another drink," he offered and before I could politely decline, he was already at the bar.

  "Ow," I said to Adam once Jake was out of earshot. "What the hell?"

  "What the hell what?" Adam asked, and then decided to distract me. "Did you see what's left of Rick's shiner?"

  "Yeah," I said not sure where this was going but really interested to find out. I suddenly remembered that I'd smacked him in the head last week when he had tried to steal my knickers. "Did I do that?"

  "What?" he said. "How would you h—never mind. Anyway, Jake gave it to him."

  "What?!"

  Adam leaned in conspiratorially and said, "I'm not one to gossip—" yeah right "—and I don't know all the details, but they got into some kind of fight in the changing room and Jake hit him."

  I sat back and blinked. What would two men fight about in a changing room? Who stole their towel? Who got to use the coveted disabled shower?

  Adam interrupted my thoughts on the subtleties of male changing room etiquette. "One of the guys said it was about a girl!"

  "Who, what, when, where, why?"

  Amused by my hyper curiosity, Adam helpfully reminded me. "You forgot how. But seriously sweetie, I think it was over you."

  "Me? Me, Jake and Rick?"

  He nodded.

  "Rick and Jake and me?" Now there was a fantasy waiting to happen.

  Another nod.

  I opened my mouth to repeat their names again. In what order this time I'll never know because Jake returned with my drink.

  "A drink fit for a princess," he declared with a flourish.

  I made a face. I couldn't help it. It slipped out when I wasn't looking. There was a reason why I drank lemon lime and bitters. I actually liked the taste. Everything else tasted blech. Some beer was acceptable. But wine might as well be vinegar. That's what every wine I had ever tried tasted like.

  "The lady doesn't drink wine," Adam said giving a more helpful response to the questioning look Jake had given me. "But I do. Thanks."

  Adam stole my drink and I growled. Honest to God, I growled. I might not like wine but Jake had gone to the trouble of buying it for me. The least I could do was pretend to drink it.

  "That's my drink! Yours have monkeys on them!"

  As soon as I said it, I knew what Adam would do. He took the blasted plastic monkey and tried to balance it on the wine glass. By now he'd had a few of those crazy cocktails and his hands were less than steady, so the monkey fell in!

  "Take your monkey out of my drink!" I demanded of my soon-to-be former bestie.

  "I didn't mean to!" Adam wailed back as if I'd caused him physical harm.

  I gasped in horror as he tried to fish the offending primate out with his fingers. Wine sloshed on the table but the monkey eluded capture.

  A dark shadow fell across the table and we looked up. And for me, up some more. Rick towered over us, glare as surly as ever and asked, "What happened?"

  I stabbed an accusatory finger at Adam and announced, "His monkey is drowning in my drink!"

  "His what?"

  "Monkey. M. O. N… How do you spell monkey?"

  Rick fixed each of us in turn with his unreadable gaze. When he came back to me my breath quickened.

  "He's scary big," I said not realising I hadn't used my inner monologue voice.

  "He is," Adam agreed.

  "He is standing right here," Rick reminded us.

  Flaming Hayley red was a new shade of embarrassment that I'd just named after myself. It's the best way to describe the level of oh shit, I felt right then.

  "I'm drunk," I blurted out in my defence.

  "Pffft," Adam said like a deflating balloon. "She doesn't need to be drunk to say stuff like that."

  Jake—who I can't believe I'd completely forgotten about—chuckled.

  "She's cute when she's drunk," he said.

  My head whipped around so fast to make sure I had heard that right that I almost spun off my chair. Number 7 thought I was cute. I frowned when I thought about it some more. He thought I was cute when drunk.

  "And amusing," he added.

  "Please continue," I told him as my heart swelled. He thought I was cute and amusing. "That was out loud again, wasn't it?"

  All three men nodded.

  "She was just saying why she joined the roller derby team," Jake said to Rick. They exchanged a look that I couldn't decipher. Perhaps it had something to do with the fight they had had last week. The one that might or might not have been over me.

  "Well," I started suddenly feeling self-conscious as they watched me intently. Waiting for wh
at, I don't know. I took solace in the fact that we all knew I was drunk and spilled the awful truth.

  "Adam signed me up the other week during the game. We were there for girl power, alcohol, and to ogle hot men because my fiancé dumped me for a job and a blonde stick insect."

  Both of them blinked but Jake was the first to react. "You have a fiancé?"

  "Had," I corrected him.

  "A stick insect?" Rick asked with dark eyebrows furrowed. Why was he more interested in that part of what I'd said?

  "That's how Adam described her."

  Adam waved for their attention before he cleared up the confusion. "Blonde woman. Very skinny."

  Rick snorted, clearly not impressed with Paul's choice of bugs. Just as I was starting to think he wasn't so bad after all, he opened his mouth.

  "Your ex-fiancé has bad taste in women."

  Adam and I competed to see who could inhale the most oxygen from the crowded bar. We used our eyebrows to communicate in a kind of Morse code. My waggling brows asked, Did he just?

  Yes he did, his telegraphed back.

  Then I caught Jake smiling. It looked smug, but what do I know, I'm drunk. He noticed I was staring at him and wiped whatever that look was off his face before he took my hand and looked deep into my eyes. What he said next was what Rick should have said.

  "Your ex-fiancé is an idiot. He should have stuck to his first choice, but if he'd done that I never would have met you, Princess."

  Now this man knew how to treat a woman, I thought as I fanned my hand at my blushing face. Why aren't we naked yet, I wondered. Oh, yeah. We're in public. The things I want to do to him—and have him do to me—could not be done in front of others. I didn't want to get arrested. That would be bad. I'd probably lose the apartment while I was in prison, and then have to live with my mother. Oh God. Now that would be a fate worse than death.

  I shook away the thoughts of my evil mother and wondered why Jake was frowning at me. "What?" I asked, suddenly worried he was telepathic and had intercepted my thoughts about my evil mother.

  "I just asked if you wanted a ride home," he said.

  D'oh! I'd just shook my head. What was I thinking? Oh yeah. Fate worse than death. Evil mother. Yadda yadda.

  "Yes, yes!" I said and jumped to my feet, knocking my chair over in my exuberance. I had no shame. I wanted him to take me home and ride me. I know that's not what he said. Not exactly, but I'm choosing to take it that way.

  Adam looked up at me with puppy dog eyes and I remembered we were going to share a taxi home. Shit and blast. "I—"

  "Don't worry, I think I see a ride of my own," he said with a silly grin on his face. He was just as drunk as me. I followed his gaze and recognised the referee from last week's derby by the bar.

  "Go Adam!" I said and we bumped fists to celebrate our mutual success. However, we missed. I managed to knock over the drink he'd stolen from me. I was secretly happy about that. Okay, not so secretly. I think I gave it away when I punched the air—narrowly avoiding Jake's chin—in victory. He either didn't notice or had wisely chosen to ignore my embarrassing behaviour. Just one of the many things I would regret about tonight come morning.

  Jake helped me walk—read that to mean stumble—back to the sports centre where he'd parked his car. A very nice car. Not that I know anything about cars, but it looked new and shiny in the fading daylight. Everyone had a car in Auckland except me. It was such a sprawling city and public transport was a nightmare. Learning to drive had gone on the back burner along with my studies while I was with Paul. Getting my licence would be something I'd have to think about now that the fool was gone. Not that I knew if I could afford to give up my job and study, get a car, and learn to drive. Maybe I could go part-time.

  "Hello?" Jake said, waving his hand to gain my attention. "Thought I'd lost you there."

  I blinked back to the here and now. He held the passenger door open, waiting for me to get in.

  I smiled up at him and said, "I'm a doofus. You'll get used to it."

  His smile faltered. Should I have said that? I really was a doofus but that's not something you should admit to anyone. Was he having second thoughts about taking me home for a ride? Noooo! Had I ruined any opportunity I had to be with such a hot man? Mental facepalm. Mental facepalm. Mental facepalm!

  I racked my alcohol-scrambled brain for something to say that would get me out of the ditzy hole I was fast digging myself into but I had nothing. I was going to die a virgin, I lamented. Wait no, that's not right. I gave my virginity to Paul. I'd wrapped it in lacy lingerie that had little bows on it and he'd carefully removed the wrapping like he was going to rewrap another present later. Perhaps he had. I hoped Jake was the kind of guy who liked to rip open his presents, eager to enjoy the bounty within. That was exactly what I needed to help me get over Paul.

  I was so caught up in my muddled thoughts I hadn't realised Rick had tracked us down and was in the middle of confronting my ride—Jake.

  "You've been drinking," that was Rick.

  "I can drive," Jake told him. "I've only had a few beers."

  Rick's response was to glare sternly at his teammate, the look so intense that I had to take a step back to avoid getting singed.

  "Give me back my keys. It'll be fine."

  Whoa, I had no idea Rick was that serious about Jake not driving after a few drinks. Granted they had lowered the legal limit for driving, but still. He seemed fine. Well, my opinion was slightly influenced by alcohol, so I wasn't in a position to defend him. My brain decided to be helpful and hauled out the information Kilty had shared about Rick losing his brother in a car crash. Had they been drinking? Was that why he was being so strict now?

  I was about to—unwillingly—agree with Rick, but before I could, Jake lunged for his keys. Rick easily knocked him aside and tossed the keys across the parking lot. They landed somewhere in the bushes near the road.

  While Jake was busy picking himself up from the asphalt, Rick strode toward me, grasped my hand and said, "I'll take you home."

  "Bah?" I managed, still shocked at what had happened. But that was nothing compared to how I felt when he led me to his motorbike.

  "I've never ridden a bike before," I said, eager yet horrified at the same time.

  "Just hold on and lean when I lean." He stopped, and it was like he knew me well when he added, "In the same direction I lean."

  And that was the last thing he said to me. I told him my address so he knew where to go and accepted the helmet he handed me. I struggled with the strap so he helped me with that. He did it without saying a word. I watched him put his own helmet on and straddle the bike between his powerful legs. I was so engrossed in the show that it took me a moment to remember I had to climb on behind him. I was afraid I'd tip us over but those above-mentioned legs of his kept the bike upright and perfectly balanced.

  "Where do I put my feet?" I yelled so he could hear me through both of our helmets. I thought I saw him wince but he didn't say anything, instead he reached back and took hold of my right foot. I let him guide it to the pedal and managed to find the other on my own.

  He glanced over his shoulder at me through the visor of his helmet and waited. I gave him the double thumbs-up, Fonzie-style, and he took that as his cue to get going. The engine started and I held onto him for dear life as we roared past Jake, who cursed at us while still looking for his keys.

  Rick was a solid wall of muscle under his leather jacket. I'm not sure but I think my fingers might have done some exploring while we zipped through Selby. What I was sure of was the vibrator on wheels that we both straddled. Maybe Rick's muscles kept him insulated from the sensations coming from his bike, but they were doing a number on me. It was a good thing we were going so fast and wearing helmets, otherwise Rick would know how aroused I was getting from this ride with him.

  We were still several minutes from my apartment so I closed my eyes and enjoyed myself. Shawn would be working overtime when I got home!

  For once
, my fantasy was faceless. It wasn't about him, it was about me and how I felt as each deep-seated gyration rocked me a little closer to heaven. But of course before that happened, the bike stopped.

  I growled my sexual frustration and took a moment to recover before I struggled to get off the oversized adult toy. Rick didn't help or say anything—asshole—so I shoved my helmet at him and staggered away. I fumbled with my keys but managed to get the front door to the building open. I heard his bike roar to life again as I stepped over the threshold. The sound made my insides melt and I couldn't help it, I moaned. Hopefully this effect would be temporary. The last thing I needed was to wet my undies every time I heard a motorbike. That'd make me some kinky version of Pavlov's dog. What I did need was sweet, sweet release.

  "I'm coming Shawn," I murmured as I uncomfortably made my sodden way to the stairs. "Brace yourself!"

  * * *

  The next morning, after praying to the porcelain god way too many times, I heard the toot from Adam's horn and quickly shoved my feet into my shoes. Either he was early or I was late. The latter was more probable. I was suffering the mother of all headaches after all. I grumbled as I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and wrenched the door to my apartment open. I didn't need to look to know I had stepped in something on the welcome mat I had insisted on putting on my doorstep. Something gross was on the bottom of my shoe and I didn't really want to know what it was.

  I sighed and pulled up my figurative big girl panties and looked down. I think I was the one who screamed. Somebody's dog's poop was on my shoe! Wait, was that a piece of corn? And a carrot!? It slowly dawned on me that it wasn't dog's poop on my shoe. No, it was human poop!

  Adam tooted several times, obviously impatient and probably about to leave without me. He wouldn't but he would. He doesn't joke about his precious traffic window. The poor guy has to commute to the other side of Auckland. Why he doesn't rent closer to work is lost on me. What isn't lost on me is the smell wafting from my poor shoe. My poor, new shoe. New was a relative term. It would be more accurate to say that they were six months old, making them my youngest shoes.

  "Well shit. Literally."

  "What is taking you so long?" Adam demanded from up the corridor. He marched toward me and pulled up abruptly when he saw the predicament I was in.