Van (Cold Fury Hockey 9)

And I did it for Simone too.

I knew it would mean something to Simone to have me open up my life a little bit more to her.

Etta had called while I had been folding some laundry at the kitchen table and watching some game film on my laptop. Simone was flipping through a magazine on the couch, chewing on a piece of bubble gum and blowing huge bubbles with it that made me have very dirty thoughts about the power of her mouth.

I knew Simone would be listening in, and I kept my eyes pinned on her the entire time. After I got through catching up with Etta, she asked the invariable "Are you seeing anyone?" question, and this time, I was able to say, "Why, yes, I am."

Etta shrieked, but Simone didn't give any indication she was listening. That statement in and of itself was benign. But pursuant to Etta's demand for details, Simone's eyes came to me while blowing a bubble when she heard me say, "Her name's Simone and she's an annoying little brat, but good thing she's sexy as hell, or I would have kicked her to the curb a long time ago."

Simone just rolled her eyes, sucked the gum back into her mouth, and went back to reading the magazine. But she had a smile on her face, and it stayed there the entire conversation as I answered all of Etta's questions about my girl.

When I hung up, Simone attacked me and we had sex on top of the kitchen table. I took that to mean she was insanely happy I told Etta about her. I had met her parents as well as her brother Malik when they came for games one and two, and they were as cool as I'd imagined they would be. Everything with that family is low drama and pressure, and it made for an easier transition for me into this whole relationship thing.

Since that phone call, Etta has probably sent me three dozen texts about Simone. I've been driving her batty by giving her short answers or not responding at all, but fuck, I'm in the play-offs here and I don't have time to be gossiping with my meddling aunt.

Luckily I'm hooking them up for game three tomorrow in Vancouver. I talked Simone into going to the game. Well, I went ahead and bought her a first-class ticket so she couldn't refuse. Luckily she's got some cool coworkers and a cool boss who are letting her switch some shifts so she can go to the all the games. After all, it's not often a girl has two brothers and a boyfriend in the Stanley Cup competition.

And yes, the word boyfriend comes easy to me. I may not have ever used it in the context of myself before, but I do know the definition, and well, fuck...I fit it now.

So Etta will make the short flight to Vancouver from San Francisco. She's going to stay at the team hotel, and while I'm at practice, she and Simone are going to hang out.

Simone actually flies out this evening, while I'm leaving in about three hours. I hate that she just got all fresh and shit from a shower, because she has to know I'm going to mess her up again.

If she forgot, I better clue her in.

Stepping into the bathroom that smells of fruity shampoo and hot-as-fuck woman, I step up behind Simone, putting my hands on her waist. She's wearing nothing but a simple gray cotton bra and matching panties. Some of her most conservative lingerie and it still gets me hard every single time.

I press my cock into her ass and she smirks at me in the mirror as she closes up the mascara tube. Her voice is dry when she says, "You're not getting any, Mr. Turner. I just got out of the shower."

"Then you'll have to take another one," I tell her with such conviction that I'm going to get laid that of course I smirk back at her. Simone has never said no to me before, but to ensure her cooperation, I slip my right hand down the front of her panties. My middle finger pushes through the lips of her pussy, dips into her, and then drags back up over her clit. I do this a few times and she's leaning back against me, moaning and hips rotating.

"Just a little quickie, right here," I murmur into her ear. "Bend you right over that sink."

"I like that idea," she breathes out in a raspy voice. "Hard and fast too."

"Christ, you're the perfect woman," I mutter, but just as I move to drag her panties down, I can hear my phone ringing with Etta's ring tone in the bedroom.

Grabbing Simone's hand, I bring it right to the front of her panties and guide her fingers inside the waistband. "Play with yourself while I go answer that. Want to make sure nothing's wrong with her flight today."

Her response is a moan, and my dick thumps when I see her hand go to work under the gray cotton material.

"Fuck," I curse as I adjust my erection, stomping across the hall to my bedroom.

I nab the phone off the bed and turn slightly to see Simone across the hall, one hand locked down hard onto the vanity to support herself, the other working between her legs. It must feel good, because her hips are flexing and her head is hanging low as if she can't even support its weight on her shoulders.

Christ.

Clearing my throat so I don't sound like Etta just interrupted me getting ready to fuck Simone--but not taking my eyes off the sight across the hall--I answer, "Hey."

"Van," she says and just the absolute fear I hear in her voice has my erection deflating.

"What's wrong?" I practically bark into the phone.

Simone's head rears up as she turns to look at me with wide eyes, the tone of my voice reflecting back some panic at Etta's fear. Her hand comes out of her panties and she's walking across the hall into my bedroom, her eyebrows pulled inward with worry. She comes to a stop right in front of me, resting a hand on my hip for support.

"I just got off the phone with a freelance reporter," she says and I realize she's crying. "I didn't tell him anything but I think he knows."

"Calm down," I tell her softly, trying to sound in control of my emotions. "Deep breath and tell me what happened."

My head practically spins at the implications of just those few words she's said to me, but I need to know what I'm facing.

I hear Etta suck in a massive amount of air, and she blows it right out into the phone. Her voice is quivery but stronger when she says, "This man called...identified himself as a reporter and doing a story about Arco."

This was not anything new. Over the years his case would get dredged up in the media for certain events like the ten-and twenty-year anniversaries of some of the murders, and things like that. Etta always got a call. She never talked.

"Apparently word got leaked that he's terminal and not doing well at all," she went on. "At least that's how he initiated the conversation."

"But you doubt that's why he called?" I ask her.

"I told him I wasn't going to comment about it, and the minute I said that, he started asking about you. I told him I wasn't at liberty to discuss. But he kept pushing with more questions like if I knew how you felt about Arco dying and where you were now. I didn't want to hang up because I didn't want to arouse any further interest, so I just kept telling him that you've never wanted to discuss this and I was going to honor your request."

"Okay," I say, because this also doesn't sound too bad.

"Then he asked where you were living," Etta went on. "And by that time, I'd about had it with him. I told him I was going to hang up. And just as I was getting ready to, he told me that the story would be running soon and it was your last chance to make sure all the facts were right."

"Fuck," I mutter into the phone. "Did he say where it was running?"

"No, and I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't think to ask," she says apologetically. I know my eyes are hard and calculating as I look down at Simone and I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I'm failing miserably. "I sort of thought maybe he was bluffing about that, trying to induce you to call him or something."

"But he said it was my last chance to get the facts right?" I ask her.

"Yes," she says in a small voice.

"He knows," I say confidently.

"I'm so sorry, Van," Etta starts crying again. "I should have done a better job--"

"Hey," I cut in on her harshly, and then soften my tone when she goes quiet. "You did everything perfectly. Best mom/aunt/friend in the entire world. Don't ever let me hear apologies out of your mouth again."

"Okay," she says quietly, but at least more calmly.

"Now...everything good for your flight to Vancouver?" I ask her to get her further refocused.

"Yes, it's fine," she says. "I'm meeting Simone tomorrow for breakfast while you are at team skate."

"Then all three of us will do lunch together," I remind her, trying to sound as if life is still just going along merrily despite this fucktacular news.

"Yes, I can't wait," she says, and then tacks on, "But Van...what are you going to do?"

I look at Simone's concerned expression and tell Etta, "I'm not sure. But I need to think about it for a little bit. I'll let you know, but in the meantime, text me the reporter's contact info."

"Okay, honey. I'll talk to you soon. Love you."