The Gilgo Beach Incident （26）

"You know what happened out here, right?" Amara asked Ryan as they rode to Hughesy's house in the back of an Uber. Tyler had hung around for a bit after the game to do some press, so he told them to just meet him there.

"No. What?"

"A serial killer wreaked havoc here. A few women went missing and when they started searching, they uncovered like, 10 bodies. They finally caught the guy decades later."

"You and your fucking true crime shows. Well, at least they caught him, so we won't end up numbers 11 and 12, huh?"

"Oh, FYI: Jenna said she's never even heard of the University of Minnesota."

"You actually asked her that?"

"Yeah, I needed to know. So, false alarm."

He shrugged. "Good to know. Guess she's got a twin out there somewhere. And, uh, why did you need to know?"

"I don't know."

"Couldn't stand it if you weren't the only girl in the room who's smashed both me and Hayes?" She turned away from him and folded her arms. "Hey, I'm sorry. It was just a joke."

"Yeah? And you're just an asshole."

"Well, that's rude."

"You said house number 130, right?" the driver asked.

Ryan checked his phone. "Yep, 130."

They pulled up, and Amara's jaw dropped as they got out. "Holy fuck."

It was an exquisite, three-story wooden mansion, right on the bay, complete with a large boathouse and a dock that moored several speedboats and jet skis. It was too cold for water sports, but the enormous house itself was the perfect party destination. They walked up the seemingly endless boardwalk that led to the front door, which was cracked, and through which they could hear music blasting and a bunch of people talking inside.

"Guess we just…go in?" Ryan asked, pushing it open.

"Hey: don't abandon me, please. I really don't wanna be here."

"Keep your phone on. I gotta socialize with these guys, you know that. If we get separated and you need me, text me, OK?"

"Right," she muttered, annoyed, pushing past him and taking off down a long hallway, leaving him in the foyer.

"Mar!" he called after her, as two chicks had already approached him, the less attractive one grabbing his arm and cozying up next to him.

"Don't worry about her. She's a big girl," the girl on his arm said, smiling.

"Baylor! I'm glad you made it. And…I see you've met Kate," Hughesy said, making his way over and pointing to the short, chunky cute brunette with huge knockers who was hanging onto him.

"Actually, I haven't. Nice to meet you, Kate. I'm Ry…"

"I know who you are," she said with a wink. "Waiting for you to come join us over here on the Island, baby."

"Yeah, uh, me too," he replied uncomfortably.

"Jesus, Kate, give the boy some space!" the other chick said. She was an older, taller blonde who had clearly had a ton of work done on her face. She threw an arm around Hughesy. "So did I do a good job, babe?"

He kissed her. "Absolutely. That's why I married you. This is my wife, Amy. She and Kate got everything set up for tonight, so if you have any issues with the food, drinks, or anything else," he patted her on the head, "this is where to send your complaints."

"Really, Aiden?" She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, I plan on being way too drunk to handle any complaints, so do me a favor and just talk shit about me behind my back like a normal person!" she laughed.

"Hayes here yet?" Hughesy asked.

"Haven't seen him. He said he was hanging back to do some press and would meet us here."

"I'm sure he'll show up soon. He held his own tonight, that's for sure."

"Wanna go get a drink with me?" Kate asked Ryan.

"Um, you know, maybe in a little bit. I'm gonna go mingle for a few, but uh, I might catch up with you later." He pulled away from her gently. "Where's everyone hanging out?"

"Right down that hallway, bang a left. Most people are in there or up on the second floor. Third floor is usually for, uh, other activities. Just FYI."

"I can meet you up there later," Kate offered.

"Cool. I'm just gonna…" he pointed and headed down the hallway. He shook his head in disbelief, as it was literally getting to the point that he couldn't go anywhere without women swarming him.

And it was kind of getting old, considering there was only one woman he wanted.

???

"Listen, I'm not saying I don't like Gouda. All I'm saying is that it's a little overrated."

He sat back and threw his hands up, slapping his knees. "I don't understand how you can say that! The smokiness, the softness of how it nearly melts in your mouth, the way it actually melts when heated. How can you say that?"

"Hey, I said what I said, OK?" Amara took another sip of her drink, which was some sort of fruity concoction containing entirely too much alcohol. She loaded another piece of Gouda onto a cracker, stuffed it in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and shrugged. "Overrated."

She'd been engaged in a riveting conversation about cheeses with who she assumed was one of the Islanders players, whom she'd met when he'd accidentally knocked her drink over on the kitchen island as she was loading up a plate with some snacks.

She'd been starving, realizing that aside from a few handfuls of popcorn at the game, she hadn't eaten all day, which could've been the reason that after only two drinks, she was feeling no pain. He'd helped her clean up the spill, poured her another drink, and followed her as she headed up to one of the second-floor gathering rooms, deciding that the first floor was way too people-y for her liking.

"So, who are you anyway?" he asked. "The Bridgeport hoodie tells me you're either with Baylor or Hayes."

She nodded, covering her mouth as she scarfed down another cracker. "Actually," she said, swallowing. "I'm Tyler Hayes's mother."

His face sank. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. What, don't the guys usually invite their moms to these parties?"

"Um…not, uh, not usually. But, uh, I guess…"

"Calm down. I'm fucking with you. I'm not his mom. Everyone always thinks I am, though. We're good friends, me and Ty. I'm also…hold on, you might wanna get a pen and paper. I'm Baylor's roommate, his ex-girlfriend, and Nick McDonough's cousin."

"Wow. That's a hell of a resume."

"And yes, I'm way too old for Ryan. Hence, why we're exes. It didn't really work out."

"Nah, you're not old at all. What are you, 32, 34? Can't imagine you're that much older than me. I'm 30."

She laughed, taking another sip of her drink. "I'm 41, actually."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Honest to God!" She put her hand up. "So, who are you, anyway? Based on the height and physique, I'm gonna guess you play?"

"What about my physique would make you say that, exactly?"

"Well, you're just like, solid muscle, with a ridiculously nice ass and legs." She shrugged. "Am I right?"

"Well, thank you," he said, slamming the rest of his drink. "And yes. I'm Neil Halloway. Or Neilly, as the boys call me."

"What do you do? I mean, like Ryan is defense, Hayes is…um, the other one." She saw him laughing. "Sorry. I know next to nothing about hockey."

"I'm the other one. So, you know just enough to know that you like banging the players, right?"

"Well," she said shyly. "I definitely can't say I don't. The few I've been with?" She made the chef's kiss motion. "C'est magnifique!"

"Few, eh? So, there's been more than just Baylor?"

She shrugged, tilting her head and pursing her lips. "Guess you'll never know, will you?"

"Hey, did you want another drink?" he asked, standing up. "I'm heading back down for another, and I'll grab you one."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk, Neil Halloway."

"Just being a gentleman, Mrs. Hayes."

Though she knew he was just busting her balls, her heart fluttered a little at the sound of being called "Mrs. Hayes."

Calm the fuck down, Mrs. Robinson, she thought to herself.

"Seriously though, I didn't catch your name."

"Bring the drink and," she shoved the plate towards him, "more sustenance, and maybe I'll tell you."

"Deal. Don't go anywhere, Beautiful, OK?"

She watched him walk away, staring at his amazing ass until it was no longer in view. Looking around, she noticed the room they were in was beginning to fill up as well.

Shit, she thought, wondering if there was somewhere more private they could go, having already made up her mind that she would hook up with him if it got to that point. Even though she'd already had Ryan earlier, she was definitely up for round two. She sighed and crossed her legs, thinking about how hot it'd been getting bent over a sink and taking his dick in the arena bathroom just a few hours ago. As much of a pain in the ass as he was, he was always such a phenomenal fuck...

"There's my girl!" she heard, quickly snapping her out of her daydream. Tyler bounded over to where she was sitting and practically fell onto the couch next to her. "How long have you been here? I just got here maybe like an hour ago, and I was looking for you and Rook, and I saw Rook downstairs hangin' with some of the other guys, and this beefy-ass brunette was hawkin' him hard as fuck, but he was having none of it."

"Tyler?" she asked cautiously. "Why are you rambling a mile a minute?"

He wiped his nose, and she noticed he had a bit of blood coming out of it. He looked down at his hand. "Oh, fuck. My bad."

She handed him her cocktail napkin, and crossed her arms, staring at him intently. "You're high."

"Whaaaat?" he asked, exaggerating his surprise.

"You're rambling, your nose is bleeding, your pupils look like dinner plates, and you're twitchy as fuck. Did you rip lines?"

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Tyler? Don't lie to me."

"Fine. I'm high as fuckin' shit right now."

"Ya think?" She rolled her eyes. "Really, Ty? Weed is one thing, but this shit can fucking kill you."

"Listen, Mom. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"Shit. You really are his mom, aren't you?" Neilly handed Amara her drink and reached out to shake his hand. "What's goin' on, Hayes?"

"Nah, she's not my mom. Just likes to think she is sometimes. It'd be weird if she was, considering I've filled two of her holes with my cock, wouldn't it, babe?"

"Tyler Hayes!" she yelled, smacking him in the chest.

"Ow," he recoiled. "Hopin' to make it into all three soon."

"Keep dreamin', Ty."

"Wow. Hayes, too?" Neilly asked, sitting down on the other side of her. "Now I'm jealous."

"Don't mind him. Apparently, he's been ripping lines of coke."

"Yo, are you tryin' to fuck Neilly? Bro, aren't you mar…?"

Neilly cleared his throat loudly and made a small cutting motion across his throat.

"Tyler? Get your silly ass away from me before I knock you out."

"Fine, whatever." He stood up and started to walk away. "I'm tellin' Rook!" he turned around and called back to her.

"This isn't over. I will deal with you later!"

"I look forward to it…Mom!"

She took a sip of her drink, setting it down on the table in front of them. "Unreal," she said, shaking her head. "You forgot the food, by the way."

"Cleaned out. Not a damn thing left down there. Sorry. Hey, don't get too mad at him. Everyone gets coked out of their minds at these things at one time or another. Enough people here to keep an eye on him. He'll be alright."

"What about drug testing? He's been trying to quit weed, but if he tests positive for coke…"

Neilly laughed. "The NHL has the laxest drug testing in professional sports. It'd shock you to find out how many guys are actual cokeheads."

"Yourself included?"

"Nah, not anymore. Used to be. Too old for that shit now. Ah, he's young, just played his first game. Let him live a little."

There was a brief silence, during which Amara slammed the rest of her drink. "Wow," she said, closing her eyes. "I am feelin' good."

"You ever gonna tell me your name?"

"And why do you wanna know so bad, huh?"

"Because," he said softly, leaning into her ear. "I need to know what to moan while you're sucking me off in a few minutes."

"Oh, wow. OK."

"Clearly you like fuckin' hockey players. Wanna add another one to your roster, one who actually has hair on his balls this time?"

"Sure. Somewhere we can go that's a bit more private?"

He took her by the hand and pulled her up off the couch. "Third floor. That's where everyone goes to do drugs and fuck. Come on." He led her up a spiral staircase, and she grabbed the railing to steady herself, as all the turns were messing with her equilibrium a bit.

The third floor opened to a large sitting area, where several couples were making out on the couches, and some with each other. "That's usually not a good sign. All the bedrooms might be full. But…one more place to check." He pulled her down the hallway, turned right, and checked the door handle. "Score," he said, as she followed him inside a bathroom, with him closing and locking the door behind him.

Apparently, I'm the woman who fucks hockey players in bathrooms now, she thought.

This bathroom, however, was like nothing she'd ever seen before. It was probably the size of the living room in their apartment, complete with an oversized clawfoot tub centered in between a window that overlooked the bay. It had a walk-in shower that could easily fit six people comfortably, and his and hers sinks with a lighted vanity and stool in between them. "Holy shit," she said, taking it all in.

"Welcome to NHL paychecks, Mrs. Hayes," Neilly said, as he cupped her ass, scooped her up, and set her down on the vanity, kicking the stool out of the way so he was positioned right between her legs. "Now let's say we get my dick in your mouth, eh?" He reached down to his pants and began to undo them, as she rested her arms on his shoulders and watched him work his belt loose.

He lifted his head and went in for a kiss. It was messy as hell, nothing like kissing Ryan or Ty, but she just went with it. "Come on," he said, grabbing her arms and moving them to his waist. "Take off my pants."

"Wow, in a rush, are we?" she said, as she yanked them down aggressively over his ass. Somehow, one of the pockets had flipped inside out, and she glanced down at the floor when she heard a "ping" sound, watching a silver wedding band bouncing across the tile. "Um," she said cautiously, immediately removing her hands from him and moving herself as far back against the vanity as she could. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

"Fuck," he muttered, staring down at it and watching it spin for a bit before coming to rest.

"So, you're married?"

"Sometimes." He leaned towards her and tried to kiss her again. "Right now isn't one of those times."

She lifted her hands and pressed them both against his chest, trying to push him away, but he wasn't budging. "Hey, I don't think I wanna do this anymore."

"Come on, it's just some drunk, sloppy head. It's not like I'll be leaving her for you."

"Neil, I'm serious. I wanna leave."

"And you can," he said, as he grabbed both of her hands and pulled them off to either side of his chest, "as soon as I nut down that pretty little throat of yours."

Smacked with a rush of adrenaline, she broke free of his grip, placing her hands against his chest again and shoving as hard as she could, causing him to stumble backward. The next thing she knew, her head whipped to the side, and she felt a sharp, intense pain against the right side of her face.

It took her a second to realize that he'd hit her. As he was fastening his belt, she took the opportunity to hop off the vanity and try to make her way towards the door, but he clutched her upper arm and pulled her back to him. "Look, I'm sorry. I got caught up. Let's just forget this happened, OK?"

She nodded, and he let her go. She stumbled toward the door, still dazed from how hard he'd hit her, tore it open, and practically ran out and down the hallway. Before she turned the corner, she tried to compose herself, but the tears had already begun. She wiped them bitterly and found the spiral staircase, heading back down to the second floor.

Pulling out her phone to text Ryan, she looked up and saw him standing and laughing with a bunch of guys near where she'd been sitting with Neil before. They made eye contact, and within seconds, he was at her side.

"Amara, hey. What happened? What's wrong?"

She just shook her head and closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He lifted a hand to the right side of her face, and she winced in pain. His posture stiffened. "You better fucking tell me what happened right now before I lose my shit."

"Halloway…hit me," she choked out.

The look that washed over his face was one she'd never seen before on a human being. The intense rage that ignited his eyes terrified her, and she grabbed onto his arm as they both spotted Neil coming down the staircase.

"Ryan, please don't!" she begged, but it was too late. Like a scene from a movie, it seemed to happen in slow motion. She watched as he marched over to him and, with deft precision, cocked his right hand back and blasted him in the jaw, knocking him backward before he'd even had a chance to react.

He proceeded to punch him two more times, taking one to his own face in the middle of it all that he didn't even seem to feel. Wrestling him to the ground, he straddled Neil's hips and continued to wallop him four more times, alternating hands, as his right knuckles were completely torn open, though he wasn't sure if the blood was his own or Neil's. Amara just watched in horror, frozen, as two other guys pulled Ryan off him and shoved him back.

As he stood over Neil, he spit onto his bloodied face. "You put your hands on my girl again and I swear to God, I will not stop until you're in a fucking body bag."

"Enough, Baylor. Get the fuck outta here!" one of the guys shouted, as he tended to Neil, who lay writhing in pain on the floor. A crowd had gathered around them, and he put his arm around Amara's shoulder, blood spatter on his hands and shirt.

"Uh, we need to leave. Now," he said, urgency in his voice, as they pushed through bodies and made their way downstairs and out the front door.