Scoring Lacey (11 page)

There probably wasn’t.

Why hadn’t Lacey simply said that telling Todd was a dumb decision then distract him with sex? Fat lot of good she was. What was the point of being smokin’ hot if you’re not telling someone when they were being ridiculously stupid? He was having a word with her later on.

Pushing off with his right foot, he skated to the end of the rink. He spun easily then skated backwards as he tried to figure out what he was going to say to Todd. Clasping his hands on top of his head, he studied the empty seats that were behind the goal but found no answers.

Some conversations a guy didn’t want to have with his best friend.

Sex and best friend’s oldest sister was right at the top of the list. When he reached the player’s bench, he slowed to a stop then stepped in to retrieve his gear. Since it was only him and Todd, he had his stick, his goal pads, mask and gloves. He strapped the pads on over his jeans. Always comfy, he thought, a wry grin escaping. All Todd needed was a stick. Jerk.

Once, younger and a lot stupider, he and Todd had done a one-on-one game with Shayne deciding to just use his gloves. When he woke up from the shot to his head, Coach had looked at him with a stern expression, “Helmet next time, boys” had been his sage advice.

A guy only needed his bell rung once to figure that was the best advice.

Hooking his helmet on the end of his stick, he carried the gloves over to the goal. Todd set the bucket of pucks on the ice then knocked it over with a loud clang. His grin was a faint reminder of the kids they had once been. With his hockey stick, Todd struck the bucket and watched it slide and spin across the ice until it hit the boards.

“There’s something about an empty rink,” Todd called, “that makes you want to make a shitload of noise.”

Shayne nodded as he strapped on the helmet then slid the blocker on his stick hand, adjusting it to his liking. There was a soothing ritual in putting on the gloves for him. All the rest of the gear was just that. The gloves made him feel like a goalie. Next he eased on the catch glove, grinning as he folded the ends.

Oh yeah, now the game was on.

Before suggesting the game to Todd, Shayne had gone for a run then headed over to the Granville gym for a yoga class. Had to keep himself bendy and flexible somehow and if checking out equally bendy and flexible girls in tight clothes was his punishment, then so be it. He needed to get some weight time in too.

Todd was organizing the pucks how he liked while Shayne did a few stretches. It would really suck to pull a groin muscle. Talk about hindering his time with Lacey.

And now he was full circle in what to say to Todd.

Muttering under his breath about dumb ideas, he smacked the catch glove on the ice. There was a nice echo from leather meeting ice and he had to agree with Todd about the noise in an empty rink. The slap was a signal developed over a lifetime of the two of them facing each other. Shayne credited all those hours with Todd for his skill in the net. Yes, he had learned a lot at MHS, but it had been hundreds of slap shots, snap shots, wrist shots, back hand shots, shots off the bar, and practiced breakaways that had gotten him to where he was.

Todd’s feet eased apart as he hunched down. He tapped the wooden blade on the right side of the puck then the left then back again. “It’s Magerin facing off against his childhood nemesis, Payne,” he said in an almost identical wording of his sister last night. “Who will get the puck? In a shocking move, it’s Magerin.” He flicked the puck behind him and skated as if he was being chased by the hounds of hell. “Oh and he’s slammed into the boards.” He tossed himself into the boards and spun around to grab the puck.

He hoped Todd didn’t flash him. Some memories he didn’t need as he watched the puck. The bastard took it around the back of the net, all the while providing commentary. What was with Magerins who needed to talk during hockey? Todd spun around and tried to get the puck past him, but Shayne was already there. At least Todd didn’t flash him. He had no desire to see his friend’s hairy chest.

“Moving slow there, Magerin.” Shayne tossed the puck at his friend. “Skating like your eighty year old dad.”

“Seventy-ish,” Todd said as he pointed a finger, “and don’t you forget it. Or I’ll tell.” He skated, dropped the puck then hammered it with his stick. He swore when Shayne dropped down, the catcher doing its job. “What do I have to do? Flash you?” Todd glared as he skated back to his collection of pucks.

“You can try.” Somehow he didn’t think it would be as effective as Lacey. And wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to bring up the reason why they were here and Todd was armed with a healthy collection of pucks to hit at his body.

Brilliant planning.

Shayne tossed the puck in the glove, contemplating this quicksand he had landed himself in. What the hell did he do? What the hell could he say? Shit. He was fucked either way.

Dumping the puck to the ice, he gave himself one more shot from Todd to figure out his words.

“Private party?”

His gaze flicked to the visiting players’ bench and the blond asshole standing there. He shifted his attention to Todd who decided to not shoot one puck but three.

Dick.

Shayne got one, one missed the net completely, and one whooshed by him and hit the netting. “One out of five. That’s twenty percent Magerin, you suck.” Todd had the taped knob on the ice and looked a little GQ as he stared at Payne.

“Oooh, is he gonna bring the pain, Shayne?”

Adam stood, his own stick resting over his shoulders with his wrists dangling casually over the shaft. Damn, Shayne wanted to punch him in the nose. No reason, just pure satisfaction in seeing him bleed. Their fellow classmate stepped onto the ice as if he expected to hear a processional march or something.

“Let’s go, cripple.” Adam Payne slid to a stop in front of a puck, sending a spray of ice up. He slammed his stick down and looked at Todd.

“Right on.” Todd took up position in front of Adam.

Fuck, Shayne thought as he rolled his right shoulder. He wished he was in full gear because no doubt about it, this was going to goddamn hurt.

The battered, rusty pick-up truck parked in front of her house was a familiar sight. Garth Luvitt had been Carmen’s friend for years. Now, though, he was newly turned sixteen with a piece of shit truck that had elevated his status from computer dork to kid with wheels. She liked Garth. His shiny new driver’s license was another thing.

Retrieving two of the grocery bags, Lacey walked into her house and eyed the empty living room. It was the usual place the two teenagers were found, a bowl of microwave popcorn between them as they watched a movie or fired up the XBox. The backyard was empty and that left them one other place to go. Shit. Slowly, she walked down the hall, her gaze locked on that closed door to Carmen’s room.

Silent prayers filled her head.
Please don’t let them be naked. Please don’t let me be a grandmother in nine months. Please don’t make me kill my child.

The silence was nerve wracking. Exhaling, she stared at the doorknob. If she was Coach, she’d throw open the door. If Lacey were her own mother, no way in hell would that door be closed. As it was she was Lacey, the mom of perpetually messing up with her youngest.

Exhaling slowly, Lacey leaned against the doorframe, raised her hand and knocked. Loudly. “I’m going to have to ask if you’re naked to get dressed.”
Jesus, God, please don’t let anyone be naked on the other side of the door.
Frantic whispering and movement came from inside Carmen’s room. Fuck. Lacey closed her eyes. “And Garth, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

So she could kill her child and find the right porch to bury her under. Feeling nauseous, Lacey walked away from the panicky scrambling feeling in her chest and went to bring in the rest of the groceries. Ice cream melted whether her home life was ideal or not.
I love my daughter, I love my daughter
.
Thou shalt not kill unruly teenagers
. People frowned on that. Alibis were needed.

Garth stumbled out of her house, blushed a bright red when he saw her. A mumbled, “Sorry, Mrs. Hodges,” and he scrambled into his truck. That he called her Mrs. Hodges said how unnerved he was. One of the first things she had done after her divorce was drop Kevin’s last name. Probably one more reason why her daughter was mad at her. His truck stalled--he was that freaked out. Lacey watched as he lowered his head to the steering wheel, no doubt pleading to any deity he could think of to get him the hell out of this situation. Lacey lowered the trunk of her car and carried the last four bags inside.

Her beloved baby girl was there, waiting with her fierce temper stamped on her pretty face. Lacey ignored her as she put away the ice cream, wondering why it was always in the last bag when you needed it to be in the first. God, her baby girl was having sex.

Her knees were going to give out as she reached into the closest bag. Fruit went where? She stared at the grapes then set them in the fridge. “I hope to God you used a condom.” She felt brittle saying those words.

“Mo-o-om, it’s not like that.”

Hm. Yes.

She glanced at Carmen. Her hair was mussed and her mouth had a distinct kissy look to it with the red line surrounding her lips. “I wish I believed you, Carmen.” Brown eyes narrowed even as her daughter blushed, whether in anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.

“If I was Kayla, you’d believe me. Dad lets me be alone with Garth all the time.”

Her dad was too busy boffing his lollipop to pay attention. Lacey wisely kept that opinion to herself. “You aren’t Kayla. You’re Carmen.” She managed to put away the rest of the vegetables without throwing anything. Points to her.

Lacey exhaled as she set the canister of coffee on the counter and studied the label.

“It’s Garth, Mom. We’re friends. You do know what it means to be friends with someone. Or am I not allowed to have guy friends now?”

Lacey prayed to all of Garth’s deities to not kill her child. “I am not the villain in your story.” Lacey faced her youngest. So young, so willful, so angry, so hurt. “Don’t, in all this anger towards me, hurt people you shouldn’t.” Carmen opened her mouth but Lacey held up her hand. “It’s a slippery path you’re on when you start using your best friends as weapons, Carmen.”

Carmen looked at the floor and blinked several times. “I--”

Lacey waited as her daughter gathered her thoughts. Nice that she was doing so.

“We didn’t have sex, Mom. Just kissed.” She scraped her finger on the counter top and swallowed. “I wasn’t using him. Really.”

“I’m not the one you need to convince.” She wished she believed Carmen. She really did. It was because she didn’t want to see her youngest grow up. She wanted her young and innocent. Unfortunately she
was
growing up. Damn it. Lacey returned to putting away groceries. At this moment it was the only control she had.

“I talked to Dad,” Carmen said. “About moving in with him.”

She hadn’t thought there was anything her daughter could say that would make her heart bleed. She had been wrong. “And what did he say?”

“That that would be cool.”

Lacey doubted that. He had his shiny new toy. A fifteen-year-old got in the way of shiny new toys. She nodded. She could see the story changing in Carmenland. That she kicked her daughter out. Lacey was, after all, the villain in her daughter’s story. “Maybe you should,” Lacey said slowly as she put away the dried pasta, the iced tea drink mix that Carmen liked. She listened to the soft slap of Carmen’s bare feet on the floor as she walked away.

Lacey stared at the jar of salsa and contemplated hurling it at the wall. Instead she set it down then fisted her shaking hand. Slowly, she sat down and stared at the two remaining bags of groceries.

How had they gotten to this point?

They fought a lot lately. It was exhausting and hard on the heart. There were moments when she felt like Carmen was water trickling through her fingers. The tighter she clutched her fists, the faster she was losing her. Shit. God damn it.

The groceries could wait. She needed a quiet spot to lick her wounds. She walked into her room, shut the door then picked up the handset by her bed. As she dialed the familiar number, Lacey leaned against the wall and slid down.

“Hello?”

She rubbed her forehead as tears blurred her eyes. “Tell me I don’t suck. Carmen wants to live with Kevin.” The tears fell then. Resting her elbow on her knee. “She hates me that much, Non.” Her jaw ached from clenching back the screams.

“Oh, baby, no she doesn’t,” her best friend said. Because that’s what best friends said.

“She does. I’m letting her because I think I could hate her too and I love her, Non. I love her so much but it’s not enough. So tell me I don’t suck because I’m drowning, Non. I’m fucking drowning.”

“I’m coming over. Give me a minute to bundle up Danny. You don’t suck. You’re awesome. Give me five minutes.”

“Okay,” Lacey said, hanging up. She folded her arm over her head, gripping the phone like it was her life preserver. She wanted to call Shayne, hear his voice. She called her brother’s townhouse then hung up before it could ring. The odds of Shayne answering were slim. And what? She was going to ask her brother to talk to his best friend? Fuck. Complicated and she didn’t want complicated right now. She wanted safe and simple.

The doorbell chimed eight minutes after she called Shannon. She stood up and felt old and creaky. Everything hurt as she splintered apart. She unlocked the door and saw Shannon standing there, Danny holding her hand.

“Oh, honey,” Shannon said and reached out with an arm, pulling her in. The sobs came because now it was safe. Someone else was here to pick up the pieces.

“I have clothes in the car and a movie for Danny. Now tell me what happened.”

“Don’t cry, Auntie Lacey. I’m sorry you’re sad.” How could she resist that? She leaned down and hugged the boy because she needed a hug.

“Thanks, pal.” She pressed her face into his neck and squeezed him tight. Shannon put the DVD on and herded Lacey into her bedroom to get the details.