Chapter 9 Like the Penalty Box, but Plusher Matt

Chapter 9

Like the Penalty Box, but Plusher

Matt

I’m standing on the steps of the opera house, oddly nervous. This is a stupid first-date idea. I wanted to take Hailey out for a quiet dinner first, somewhere I could feed her and tell her all my best jokes. But that’s not how tonight worked out. Instead I’m treating her to a night with my hyper teammates at an opera where I’ll have trouble sitting still.

Slick, Eriksson , I chide myself. Well done.

Hailey couldn’t meet me for dinner tonight because she had an emergency meeting with her programmer. So that sucks. The evening’s only saving grace is that my tux fits perfectly. It’s yet another thing in my life that she’s helped me with.

“What’s this opera about anyway?” Wes asks, nudging me with his elbow.

“Fuck if I know.”

“I wish it were about fucking,” Blake says slowly.

“Oh, come on, you guys!” Jess Canning yelps. “ Rigoletto is Verdi’s most famous creation. It’s amazing, and I promise it’s right up your alley.” She’s our resident artsy friend, so she should know.

“Well, don’t hold out on us, J-Babe,” Blake demands of his girlfriend. “What’s the story? God knows we don’t sprechen sie Deutsch!”

“It’s in Italian, you goof. Here, I found a synopsis earlier.” She taps her phone. “The story opens with the duke at a big party. He’s trying to decide which women to seduce first. The song is ‘Questa o quella,’ which means this woman or that? ”

“Now we’re talking,” Blake says. “It’s just like me in ye olden days. Before I found the perfect one.” He puts one of his big mitts around Jess’s waist. “When I picked up our tickets, I noticed this place has a kick-ass coatroom. You know how we enjoy coatrooms…”

She gives him a silly smile, but Wes makes a growling sound. “TMI, okay? Now tell me about the damned opera.”

Jess continues to explain the story. There’s a curse on the duke and his jester and the jester’s beautiful daughter. Instead of listening, I’m scanning the street, eyeing every taxi that pulls up, looking for Hailey. I can’t find her anywhere.

“The song in act three is something you’ll recognize,” Jess promises. “‘La donna è mobile.’ It means the woman is fickle. ”

“Sounds okay,” Lemming says.

“Eh,” I caution. “These things always sound better on paper. But it’ll be three hours long, and they’ll manage to suck the joy out of the story.” I’ve been to quite a few of these opera nights already.

“Speaking of sucking and joy,” Blake says with a grin. “Matty-Cake has two tickets in his hand. Something we should all know, my boy? Are you and the dog walker an item now?”

I wish. And tonight probably won’t improve my chances. Asking Hailey to this thing was a terrible idea. If she stands me up, it might even be for the best. “How about you don’t make any sucking jokes for the rest of the night?”

“What fun is that? I arranged for us to sit in a box together. It’s like the penalty box, but plusher.”

“You…what?” Just as I’m worrying about this new development, another taxi pulls up. When the door opens, a pair of long legs appears from the darkness inside. Then Hailey unfolds those smokin’ legs from the car and stands up on a pair of spike heels, her dark hair shining under the streetlamps.

“Amirite, Matty-Cake?” Blake says, jabbing me in the ribs. He’s still talking, but I’ve tuned him out.

“Everyone shut it,” I hiss. “Here comes my date. Pretend you’re normal.”

“Good luck with that.” Wes snickers.

“Mamma mia,” Lemming mutters under his breath. “That can’t be your date, Eriksson. She’s too hot for you.”

I want to tell him to keep his trap shut, but there isn’t time. Hailey spots me and smiles. I watch her navigate the busy sidewalk, and I descend a couple of steps to greet her. “Hey, you made it.” I take her hand, then lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek to show my appreciation. Her perfume invites me to linger, so I take a deep breath before I step back. “Thanks for coming.”

She blinks at me for a long moment, then looks down at our clasped hands. “It’s my pleasure.” Her voice is soft and a little tentative, her blue eyes sparkling.

I feel the warm buzz of arousal, and I wish I could just hail one of these cabs and ask the driver to take us back to my apartment.

But I can’t, of course. And that’s not what Hailey signed up for.

Right. Opera it is.

“I’ll apologize in advance for my friends,” I say, stalling.

“Why?” She smiles at me again, and it hits me full force. If this is how Hailey looks at me after she’s gotten a little used to me, I may not survive it. “They didn’t shower after practice?”

“It’s not quite that bad,” I manage, smiling back at her. We’re both standing here grinning like a couple of idiots, but I can’t stop. “They’re just kind of rowdy. Not opera fans. Except for Jess.” I tip my head toward Blake’s girlfriend on the stairs.

Hailey glances at my fellow players and shrugs. “I’m from Toronto, Snipes. I’m not afraid of a few hockey players.”

I chuckle. “Snipes?”

“If I have a nickname, you get one too. It’s only fair.” She gives me an appraising look. “Nice tux. Some smart person must have helped you pick it out.” She licks her lips and glances up at the theater.

I am in so much trouble.

Taking her arm, I lead her up the steps. “Guys, this is H…” I almost say Hottie. “Hailey Taylor Emery.”

“Awesome!” Blake bellows with his usual deafening enthusiasm. “I love a chick with three names! Like, um…” He pauses. “James Earl Jones!”

“Not a chick.” Jess sighs, shaking Hailey’s hand. “Welcome to the circus.”

“Sarah Jessica Parker,” Wes offers.

“Julia Louis-Dreyfus,” Lemming adds.

I cut off this recitation of stupidity by introducing each of these chuckleheads, and then the lights flash outside the theater, prompting everyone to go inside.

“C’mon, guys!” Jess says, clapping her hands. “I don’t want to miss the beginning!”

“I wouldn’t mind,” someone else mumbles.

We enter the theater, and I give Hailey my arm as we climb a curving staircase. Someone shows us to a private box, where another usher waits to hang our coats in a little closet right outside.

“Fancy!” Jess says approvingly.

But I can’t even hear her, because I’ve slipped Hailey’s coat off her shoulders. And now I almost swallow my tongue. She’s wearing a sparkling backless dress. That’s not even why I’m speechless. Hailey has an intricate tattoo of ivy vines all across her shapely back.

I let out a little moan of longing, and she turns her head with a questioning look. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice a rasp. But no, it ain’t okay. The opera just doubled in length if I have to sit beside her all night trying not to imagine the full picture of those tattoos across her naked body. “Where would you like to sit?” I ask, dragging my reluctant eyes off the swell of her ass.

“Anywhere.”

The box has six armchairs upholstered in velvet. I steer Hailey toward the ones in the front. The others are for Blake, Jess, Wes, and…

“Made it!” Jamie says, appearing in the doorway in a tux.

“Babe!” Wes exclaims with no small amount of surprise.

“My second practice got cancelled. Ran home and changed.”

“Aw. Now I know you love me.” He pulls Jamie in for a kiss.

And then something beautiful happens. Someone on staff offers us glasses of champagne from a cart in the hallway. I hand one to Hailey.

“Classy,” she says.

“We definitely didn’t have drinks last year,” Blake recalls. “It must be the box seats. Sit on my lap, Jessie. It’s almost a party now.”

She perches on his thigh, and they clink their glasses together, then kiss.

I’m the last single man on the planet, apparently.

“This is so civilized,” Jess remarks, slipping off Blake’s lap and into her own chair.

“That’s exactly what we don’t like about it,” Wes agrees.

Hailey smiles, and I relax by a degree or two. “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” I tell her. “Maybe the opera wouldn’t be your first pick, but I really enjoy your company.”

She glances down for a second, as if she finds it difficult to accept this bit of praise. “It’s nice to step outside my rut sometimes, Snipes.” She lifts her elegant chin. “Have you seen Rigoletto before?”

“I have no idea,” I say without any shame, and she laughs.

When the house lights fade to black a moment later, I smile into the pregnant stillness inside the theater. A couple of coughs and the rustle of clothing are all we hear for a moment.

“Freebird!” Blake whispers from behind me, and I hear Hailey’s giggle even if I can’t see it.

The orchestra starts up with a swell of brass and timpani. When the curtains part, it’s on a bright stage where a big party is taking place, just as Jess described. I try to settle in and watch, but it’s not easy. I’m too aware of Hottie beside me. I want to watch her instead of the opera.

I sip my champagne and look more closely at the costumes onstage. They aren’t from the correct historical period. Someone decided to set this opera in…Las Vegas? Atlantic City? There are mobsters and women in fifties dresses.

As usual, my mind wanders to better topics. Hailey and then hockey. Pretty soon, I realize I’ve spent a big chunk of time thinking through offensive strategies for our game against Vancouver. Any hope I had for following the opera is long gone.

Onstage, the rich guy from the opening party scene sits in a chair drinking champagne while two dozen others stand around him in a semicircle, singing.

I lean over to Hailey and whisper, “Do you have any idea what’s happening right now?”

Slowly, she turns her head until her lips brush my ear. My senses all stand at attention and salute her as she whispers, “No fucking clue.”

Her warm breath brushes my face as the music swells, and I’m hit with a wave of pure longing. It’s not just for sex either. I’d gladly take her home to bed with me. But I crave this too—a joke in the dark. A private laugh with a partner in crime.

I turn my head until my nose subtly brushes past her soft cheek. “Actually, it’s pretty obvious what’s going on,” I breathe into her ear.

“Is that so?”

“Yup. That rich guy—I think he’s a Mafia don—is telling his goons to whack someone.”

She nods earnestly. “The man who stole his cocaine.”

“Right,” I whisper, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. She shivers. “But I think we’re getting a car chase first. They’ll find the drugs in the back of a souped-up minivan. Guarded by Sister Maria, my warty third-grade teacher.”

Hailey turns her face into my shoulder, and I can feel her chuckle. On the stage, a woman in a bloodred dress suddenly appears. She opens her mouth and begins to sing in a sweet soprano.

“Oh shit,” I whisper to Hailey. “You know who she is?”

“Of course I do,” she hisses. “The estranged love child of Sister Maria and the don. She’s come to warn of a curse she’s put on them. She never got a pony for her birthday, so she’s casting a pox upon their houses.”

“In her defense,” I say solemnly, “the don totally promised to get her that pony.”

“In his defense,” Hailey counters, “the recession hit the Mafia pretty hard.”

“Truth.”

We stare at each other, lips twitching wildly. Jesus. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun with a woman.

Her slim hand grasps my wrist. “Oh no.” Her whisper is so soft, it’s barely audible.

“What?”

“The curse is rumored to be expanding.”

“Will everyone break out in weeping pustules?”

She shakes her head, and silky hair brushes against my jaw. “They’ll all be attacked momentarily. By a giant squid.”

That’s what does me in. A bark of laughter very nearly escapes my chest, but I gulp it down just in time.

But my laughter sets Hailey off. She’s so determined to hold it back that she swallows with an awkward cough in the back of her throat. Yet—as in the real Sister Maria’s class—that only makes it funnier. I can feel her trembling beside me.

And wouldn’t you know, my stomach starts shaking in sympathy. I bite down on my lip, but real laughter still threatens. I grin down at my tux pants and laugh silently.

Beside me, Hailey is fighting for control. She takes a deep, slow breath and lets it out. But she convulses again on the exhale.

Trying to be helpful, I sit up straight and give her the side-eye, which she returns, grinning. Her lips twitch, and my gaze is drawn to the sweet curve of her mouth.

Her lips twitch again, her shoulders pulling together with the effort of not laughing. And of course, it’s all my fault. Luckily there’s a cure for this problem.

Without a second thought, I close the distance between us and kiss her.

The moment our lips touch, the silly mood evaporates. The brush of her soft lips against mine halts my laughter in its tracks. Hailey goes completely still against my body. The floral scent of her hair hits me like a warm mist. The kiss happens in slow motion as we both push past our mutual surprise.

Meanwhile, my libido practically stands up and cheers. Yaaaaas! it shouts. More of this!

More indeed. One soft kiss is simply not enough. I lean in, tilting my head, perfecting our connection. Hailey exhales, her warm breath caressing my skin. She tastes of champagne and lipstick, my two favorite flavors. I touch my tongue to her lower lip, asking for more. My chair creaks as I lean closer to her, but I barely register the sound as she opens for me.

I taste her, then break out in goose bumps everywhere. It’s been so long since I felt like this—eager and desired. When two soft hands land on my chest, my body lights up like a flare.

Below us, the orchestra kicks into a faster rhythm, and the chorus raises its voice in song. I kiss her again and again. We don’t stop until the audience breaks into sudden applause, startling us apart.

“Bravo!” yells Blake. “And of course I mean you two. Who could watch the opera with all that neckin’ right in front of me?”

Hailey’s eyes are a little wide, and a flush has crept across the exposed skin of her long neck. I wink at her to let her know she can feel free to ignore my teammate. She seems to pull herself together, joining in the applause for the performance we’ve just ignored.

My tux pants are now uncomfortably tight, and the night stretches before me like a long walk through the desert without a drink of water. I have to survive more opera after the intermission and then a cocktail party with the team owner and his stuffy philanthropist friends.

If I’m lucky, I can get a few more of those kisses in the taxi home. I take Hottie’s hand in mine and give it a squeeze.

Did I mention I’ve got it bad?