A blond steps in front of me, her gaze roving slowly up and down my chest. “Hey, my flight’s not until this afternoon and I’m up for round two if you are.”
“Ugh, don’t be such a whore, Mackenzie,” another woman says. “You don’t know anything about him.”
Mackenzie shoots her a look. “You didn’t know anything about him when his dick was balls deep in your ass last night, either.”
“I was drunk.”
Now that it’s daylight and I’m sober, their voices are shrill and annoying. I grab my shirt and shoes and head for the door.
“I have to go to work,” I say. “Good luck to whichever one of you is getting married.”
Did I fuck the bride-to-be? I hope not; that’s a real dick move. But those chicks were completely wasted last night, and so was I.
I put my shirt and shoes on in the elevator of…Caesar’s, I think? I’ll know for sure when I get to the lobby. I take full advantage of living in Vegas. I wouldn’t live here if I didn’t play hockey here, but I’m only twenty-eight, so hell…might as well live it up, right?
My coach doesn’t agree, so I have to keep my partying under the radar. Today, that won’t be easy if he sees me before I get changed in the locker room. My wrinkled clothes and bloodshot eyes tell the tale of how I spent the past ten hours.
When my Uber driver picks me up, I direct him to the player entrance at the arena, leaning over to wave at the security guard sitting in a booth by the gate. He’s used to me arriving in Ubers, so he waves and opens the gate.
“Thanks, man,” I say to the driver as I get out of the car.
I run into the arena, my head still throbbing and my throat dry as hell. The only downside to being a goalie is that I have to start practice earlier than the rest of my team. When I finish practice, I’m going home and drinking at least half a gallon of water, taking some Tylenol, and crawling into bed for a few hours.
“Dude.” Our team captain, Maverick, mumbles to me as I run into the locker room. “Cutting it pretty close.”
“Yeah,” I respond, pulling my shirt off on my way to my locker.
I’m kicking my shoes off when Kingston comes over to me, grinning.
“Well?” he asks.
I ignore him. That fucker looks way too well rested and hydrated. He didn’t want to come back to the hotel room with the bachelorette party last night because he said he had to get some rest before practice.
It was a practical call, I’ll grant him that. He won’t feel like death warmed over during practice today, and I will. But there are only so many years we’ll get to be twentysomething pro athletes living in Vegas. It’s a pussy smorgasbord, and I plan to keep eating up.
“You didn’t do it,” Kingston says smugly. “Just admit it, Pike.”
I dress in my practice uniform and head for the bathroom, Kingston hot on my heels.
“I choose Morton’s,” he says with a grin. “I’m feeling like a steak tonight.”
Leaning down at a sink, I splash water on my face, use my shirt to dry off, and then walk over to the five-gallon water dispenser and draw a cup of water. After swallowing ten cups in a row, I respond to Kingston.
“No steak for you tonight, unless you’re buying.”
His grin slides away. “No fucking way.”
I nod. “There were five women, and I got four of them off at least once. You said at least four, so my record remains intact.”
“The fuck?” He shakes his head. “One of them was a total bitch to you all night long.”
I shrug. “She’s probably the one I didn’t get with.”
“How do you do it?” Kingston asks, aggravated. “I get that you’re a good-looking dude and all, but…I just don’t know how you manage to do it every fucking time.”
“I’ve got the trifecta,” I say with a grin. “Beard, tats, and blue eyes. My high school teammates called my eyes Leg Spreaders.”
“If I grew a beard and got tats, I don’t think it would have the same effect on the women I meet,” Kingston grumbles.
“Dude, don’t. Your beard grows out patchy and shit. And I can’t picture you with ink; it just wouldn’t fit.”
He sighs. “I’m winning this bet, Pike. If you get unlimited ass, I should at least get a steak dinner. I’m going to have to find you more of a challenge.”
Our teammate, Alexei, approaches us with a smile. “You guys make me remember the good old days.”
“Yeah?” Kingston says. “Did you ever bet a teammate you could get any woman you wanted in bed?”
“Nah. I always preferred just doing it to talking about it.”
“Ohhh.” I laugh and shove his shoulder. “Guess that’s a burn on me.”