Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

“Alex says he can get you an interview for a coaching position, if you want it,” Sunny says.

I stop painting and sit back, wiggling my toes. I’ve been thinking about this all week. I want desperately to take her up on the offer; I’m worried it’s for the wrong reasons.

“Your mom’ll be fine without you. It’s only an hour-and-a-half flight. You can go back anytime you want.”

“I know.” Sunny’s right. This Tim-Tom guy actually seems decent, apart from the shirtlessness. He owns a small gym, he’s nice to her, and she’s happy—happier than she’s been in a long time. She met his family at Christmas. There’s talk about her moving in with him. I know she’ll say it’s okay for me to tag along, but it’s time to get out.

“Then what’s holding you back? Not the messages from Benji, I hope.”

“Your douchey ex?” Violet asks.

“Yeah, that’s the ex, and no, he’s definitely not a factor in the decision.” Benji has sent several texts and left a couple of voice mails over the past week. I sent one text back, because I’m not a total cold-hearted bitch, but I don’t miss being with him. I still have to give him his things back, though at this point I’m not sure I care about mine. It’d be easy enough to drop his junk off at his house and be done with it. I’ve already got closure.

“Okay. Good. Just checking.” Sunny draws a tiny little champagne flute on her big toe in silver. She’s incredible at painting pictures on nails.

“Can you fix mine when you’re done?” Violet lifts a foot. There’s nail polish everywhere but on her toenails, it seems.

“Of course. Do you want it to match the crazy you’re putting on your face?” Sunny asks.

“Yes! I can’t wait to send Alex pictures of what he’s missing tonight.” Violet grins, and she has red lipstick on her teeth. She’s wild at the best of times, but tonight she’s more so than usual, with Alex and the boys being at an away game. We all would have gone, but they’re flying back tomorrow, so we decided to delay the official celebration. Sunny and Alex’s parents also came in for the holiday, and there’s been more wedding talk. Tonight Violet and Charlene decided to re-create the pre-wedding makeup test run Daisy suggested. There are bottles of Aquanet on the table. Sunny says Violet’s not allowed to use them because they’re aerosol and bad for the environment.

“So is it because of Randy, then?” Charlene asks.

All three girls stare, waiting.

“No.”

“Liar!” Violet points at me.

“Randy isn’t the reason I’m not sure.”

“He might not be the reason, but I bet he’s a reason,” Violet replies. “Your last name is LeBlanc, right?”

“Yeah.” I’m not sure what that has to do with Randy, but then Violet doesn’t often stick with one train of thought.

“Is that your mom’s or your dad’s last name?” she asks.

“My mom’s. I’ve never even met my dad. There’s no way I’d take his last name.” I don’t mean to sound bitchy.

“You’ve never met your dad?” Violet asks. “Wow. That’s crazy. Me neither.”

“Really?” I ask.

“For reals.” Violet nods. “Apparently he’s a jerkwad. My mom says it was a whirlwind romance. I think it means she had a slutty phase and decided not to give me up for adoption.”

“Wow,” Sunny and I say in unison.

“It’s no biggie.” She shrugs. “My mom raised me on her own.”

“Just like Sidney raised Miller,” Sunny says. She gets this wistful look in her eyes. “It’s like fate brought your parents together.”

“Actually, I think he accidentally stole her coffee one day, and that’s how they met, but yeah, they love each other,” Violet agrees. “So what’s the story with your dad?”

“He was a pro hockey player, and my mom was a bunny who got pregnant.” I shrug. “He paid child support until he didn’t anymore.”

“Wow. How’s your mom feel about you boning an NHL’er?” Violet asks.

“She doesn’t get an opinion on that, considering,” I reply.

“Fair enough,” she says. The three of them go quiet for a few seconds. “Wait! So you’ve never met your dad, and isn’t Randy’s dad some ex-NHL’er who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants? Aren’t his parents divorced?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Holy shit!” She sets her glass down and grabs the edge of the coffee table. “What if you two are related? And not like me and Buck—all step-sibling and stuff. Like, it would be weird but okay if we hooked up, but you’d be for-real brother and sister. We could make a reality TV show out of this.”

“Randy’s dad isn’t my dad.”

“How do you know?”

“Because his name isn’t on my birth certificate.”

“What if it’s a fake?”

“Violet, you’re being an asshole,” Charlene says.

“My dad’s last name is Head,” I say.

“What’s his first name? Dick?” Violet asks.

“Actually he goes by Richard.”

“Are you serious? Your dad’s name is Dick Head?”