Page 3 of Icebound

I’m left standing in the aftermath, my button-down a sticky canvas of cherry sludge. Everyone scrambles to give me a wide berth.

Gritting my teeth, I wave down the bartender in the green cowboy hat. “Hey, man, can I pay my tab? Think I’m gonna head out now.”

The guy gives me a once-over, grimaces, and hands me a napkin. “On the house, my friend.”

He’s getting a big tip. I pick up the empty cocktail glass and hand it over. “Thanks, you might be my favorite person of the night.”

I dab my shirt while eyeing Cruz, sitting with the rest of our first line on a velvet couch that matches his blazer.

Micah Cruz looks like he just won the Stanley Cup with his arms dangling around two women, so I doubt he’ll miss me if I leave.

Patty fires off a text. I’d bet my entire collection of cross-stitches that our beauty of a winger’s checking on his seven-month-old daughter, Betty.

“The Golden Giant,” as the media calls Wyatt Patterson, can barely clock twenty minutes before texting his two moms for an update. He’s lucky he’s got live-in babysitters at his house.

I could barrel through the crowd to tell my teammates I’m going, but I smell like fermented candy, and my feet are sore as hell from these new Brioni loafers. I glance at my Rolex. 10:30 p.m.

If I leave now, I’ll have time for a bath to relax my muscles before our string of away games. I should use the chamomile soap tonight. No, spearmint.

After leaving a hundred-dollar tip for the bartender, I push through the smoky club, step into the cold January air, and order a ride in a white Audi e-tron GT.

It may be high maintenance, but I only get premium rides. I didn’t take a puck to the jaw, causing a laceration that required reconstructive surgery, only to share a pooled ride.

I send a message in our group chat, Puck Buddies.

Me

Some random woman just spilled her drink all over me so I’m out.

Cruz

Ayyo the King of Irish exits strikes again. You gonna let a little splash action stop you from celebrating my birthday? Go change and get your ass back here you fucking degenerate.

Patty

I’m out too then. I’ve actually got a kid at home.

Cruz

And whose fault is that for not knowing how to use a condom at twenty-six?

Patty

*salutes*

I’m out.

Cruz

You guys are so fucking lame. It’s my birthday. I thought we’d be having an orgy by now.

Me

Always here to throw a used condom on the night.

Cruz

Do you even know what that is anymore? Fine. Have fun with your hand tonight old man.