31. All That Gratuitous Sex

CHAPTER 31

ALL THAT GRATUITOUS SEX

WESTON

Abbi is still pretty wiped out by the flu. “You probably shouldn’t be this close to me,” she says as I hold her tightly. “What about the playoffs?”

“I had a flu shot,” I mumble, hoping that actually matters. “There’s no way I can leave you alone right now. I miss you too much. Just deal with it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s more like it. Can you eat some more? We need to build you up.”

“For all that gratuitous sex?” she asks.

“Exactly,” I say gruffly. But it’s a lie. I just want Abbi to be okay. “How about a frozen fruit bar? I got a box for you at the grocery store.” Plus a hundred other things. That’s what a distraught guy does when the woman he loves has a fever.

Abbi goes still. “You brought me frozen fruit bars?”

“Yeah, and then I had to jam the box into your tiny freezer. Please don’t tell me you hate them.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I love them. That’s what my mother used to buy me when I had a fever.”

Oh, man. See? This flawed, jaded guy really can do a thing or two right once in a while. “I think they’re mixed berry. Want one? ”

“Let’s each have one.”

I get up and fetch two bars, and I also put a movie on my laptop. We spend the evening curled up together. Abbi nods off from time to time, her soft hair tickling my chin. But I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

When you love someone, reruns and fruit bars are all the fun you need in your life. It’s more than enough.

The next night, though, I don’t go over to her place after practice. After a grueling pre-playoffs practice, I send her a delivery of hot soup and a series of texts to make sure she’s doing okay.

Totally fine here, Westie. Getting bored, though. I want to call Kippy and beg for my job back, but I think I should write a letter instead . Dalton says he’ll give me a doctor’s note.

A paper trail is a good idea , I reply. But the truth is that I have a few ideas of my own.

After practice, as we’re all toweling off in the locker room, my teammates bring up the Biscuit as a matter of course. “You coming?” Tate asks, snapping his towel in my direction. “Maybe we should send Abbi some takeout.”

“I got that covered already,” I admit. “But I was planning on stopping by the Biscuit anyway. I need your help with something, guys. Listen up, okay?”

They gather around me, and I lay out my plan.

A half hour later, we’re assembled around table seventeen, as usual. Carly—after inquiring about Abbi’s progress—has dropped off glasses of water and reeled off the specials. But when she comes back to take our order, I ask to speak to the manager instead. “We have something to say to him. Can you let him know?”

She blinks. “Of course. Just don’t get me fired.”

“I would never. ”

Kippy arrives a couple of minutes later, his eyes shifting around the table, looking for problems. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Well, we were doing some math earlier,” I say. “According to my credit card bill, I’ve spent nine hundred dollars here in the last few months. And I’m not the only one. Guys?”

“I spent a thousand,” Lex says.

“I spent seven hundred,” Tate chimes in.

“I don’t do math if I can help it,” Patrick says. “But I get drunk more than most of these guys, so you better assume my bill is the highest.”

“He spent twelve hundred and seventy-seven bucks, and I spent eight hundred,” his twin says.

Around the table we go, as the numbers mount. Kippy holds up a hand to stop us. “Okay, I see the trend. What are you looking for? A free basket of fries? I could stomach some kind of unofficial rewards program, if you’re quiet about it.”

“No, man,” I say, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. “This is not a shakedown. We were perfectly happy to spend our cash here—until you fired Abbi for getting the flu. By email, no less.”

“That’s cold ,” Tate adds.

Kippy frowns. “But she didn’t even call .”

“Yeah, that’s how sick she was,” I say, my hands in fists. “Didn’t you stop for a second and wonder why your most reliable employee—tied with Carly here, who we also think is great—didn’t show up? Wouldn’t a decent boss worry a little if that happened?”

Kippy’s nostrils flare, because I’ve just called him out for being an asshole. “I don’t have time to babysit my staff.”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “But we don’t have time to drink beer and eat wings here until you offer Abbi her job back. With the one-year bonus intact.”

His ears redden as he glances around the table.

Eleven hockey players look back at him with solemn expressions. “We like pizza, too,” Cooper says. “Pretty sure they could find room for us next door.”

“And for our entourage, too,” Patrick adds. “The hockey lovers of Burlington come to the Biscuit for us, you know.”

I never knew Patrick’s ego could be so useful, because Kippy blanches. Then he swallows hard. “Abbi can come and see me tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll work something out.”

“That’s not good enough,” Tate chirps. “Call her right now. She’s probably worried about her job. She’s conscientious, sir. You don’t let a good employee go.”

Slowly, with a trapped look on his ugly face, Kippy reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“Here,” I say cheerfully, handing him a Post-it note. “This is her number.”

Scowling, he starts tapping it into his cell. Then he puts the phone to his ear. “Er, hello, this is Kippy at the Biscuit. How are you, uh, feeling?” he stammers, like it might kill him to care.

I guess that used to be me, though. I thought it would kill me to care too much for Abbi. Yet loving her is the best thing that ever happened to me.

“You, uh, can have your job back. And your bonus will be waiting for you. I’ll write the check tonight.”

He goes silent, listening to Abbi’s response.

That’s when I nod at Carly, who’s beaming. “All right, let’s do this order! I’ll have the?—”

“Thai spiced wings?” she guesses. “And a Coke?”

“Yup,” I say, handing over my menu. Because some of my habits never change, and that’s okay.

A few minutes later, I’m just taking my first sip of soda when my phone starts pinging with texts from Abbi.

OMG you will not BELIEVE what just happened!!!! Kippy called me. I got my job back, and my bonus!

That’s great, baby , I reply.

In other news… I’ve decided to take the job at Vermont Tartan. Tell me how you really feel about me staying in Burlington . Be honest .

I feel great about it , I tap out quickly. Less phone sex. More real sex . I add a string of eggplant emojis because I’m classy like that.

Well that clears things up , she says.

Eat your soup. You’re going to need the energy. What are you going to spend your bonus on?

The deposit for a new apartment. Somewhere with a full- size freezer, where you don’t have to trick the heating system to stay warm .

I liked keeping you warm, I admit . But I agree about your pad. Tell that landlady you’re outtie .

No more bad jobs or bad apartments. She agrees. It’s the end of an era .

And the start of another , I add. Then I follow it with a bunch of heart emojis, because I’m turning into a big sap.

But I think I like it.