The Gamble: A Novel (4 page)

Luca

First official week of camp. Thirty kids. Thirty loud and needy kids from ages five to eleven. Thirty whiny and whimpering kids with two camp counselors whose job it is to steer them like cattle on field trips and make sure they all return back to the school in one piece. I've been doing this shit for five years. Pretty much have it down to a science. The first year Alexxa was my partner everything changed. I went from having to instruct thirty kids
and
a frightened assistant to finally feeling like someone else could read the playbook. If this were football, I'd be the quarterback and Alexxa would be the fullback.  They respect her the same way they do me. I don't have to worry about her curling into a ball when they snap back or caving when they try to cry to get their way. Huh. How much this shit is gonna suck when she's gone is finally starting to seep in. I don't plan to be here next summer without her. Keep your fingers crossed my business is underway. Had a late meeting with a sexy investor who may be interested in reviewing my proposal
if
I review hers for another round on my cock. Haven't decided if it's worth it yet or not. ‘Will get my cock sucked for money’ doesn't have the greatest spin to it.

“Mr. Luca,” Jon whines as he tugs on my jeans. “Do we have to skate?”

I wiggle my leg free.

Five year olds fresh out of Pre-K and now learning to roll with the older kids for the first time are the second hardest ones to deal with.

“You have to try.”

He whines. Or wheezes. It sounds the same coming out of him. “But what if I fall?”

“Then you get back up and try again. You only fail when you stop trying.”

He frowns.

It's a better speech than my father ever gave me. Failure wasn't even allowed to be mentioned in the house. Larson's don't fail.

“Mr. Luca is right,” Alexxa says sitting down beside me while the group of girls she took to the bathroom fill in seats closer to where the hockey players will be coming out. “Now why don't you go sit by Carl? It's his first time to ice skate and I heard he was kinda scared too.”

Jon nods and shuffles down a few rows to sit next to another five year old. As soon as he's settled, I lean over and whisper, “Did he say that?”

“His mother mentioned it when she dropped him off this morning. She was also looking for you. Wouldn't tell me why.”

Most likely because I blew her off this weekend to work on my proposal instead. As important as it is to constantly blow a load, I don't wanna live off my father's money forever. Gotta stop running drills and sitting on the bench during the actual game at some point.

“You know, I've never been to a hockey game,” Alexxa says, pulling her brown hair to one side of her.

The simple action drags my attention to her face, which I've found myself studying more and more.

It's not flawless. She has a small scar under her chin from where she fell off her bike when she was six. She's got a tiny mole on her jaw line and one beside her left eye. Shit most chicks cover with make up she let's show freely. But then she has these little things that make all the flaws vanish. A dimple. Full lips. Bright brown eyes. I've honestly never spent this much time looking at anyone's face including my own. I don't know why I can't stop. It's not like there's instructions on how to get her to fuck me on it.

“But I've always wanted to go. What about you? Do you even like hockey? I mean, I know you love football and basketball-”

“And soccer.”

“Hate golf and tennis. But you've never really mentioned anything about hockey other than 'Shut up Alexxa, I need to see if Dallas beat St. Louis' or whatever teams are playing for the week.”

“It's somewhere in the middle.”

“Can you ice skate?”

I lean closer to whisper, “Of course. There's not much I can't do.”

She gags and pushes my face away on a laugh.

Catching a glimpse of the polish on her fingers, one of the only girly things she does, I try to sway the conversation in a useful direction. “I like that shade of red. Looks good.”

Alexxa momentarily admires it. “Do you think the other hair dressers will like it too?”

Why the fuck did I expect that to work? Maybe because it was an honest moment rather than just a well-placed observation? It's a nice fucking color on her, in a do you wanna be bent over my desk for a spanking naughty school girl kinda way.

In a low whisper I grunt, “Fuck off. I was just trying to pay you a compliment.”

“Currency denied.”

I shake my head. “What about you? Can you ice skate?”

“Oh yeah. Used to spend hours just twirling and practicing the toe loop, the flip, and the Axel.”

“Seriously?”

“No you, idiot. Who do I look like to you? Nancy Kerrigan?”

Her sarcasm makes me smirk. “I'm actually impressed you know who that is.”

“My parents made me watch the Olympics just like everyone else.”

Seeing two players come from the locker room heading our direction, I lower my voice again, “I fucking love the Olympics.”

Alexxa's face tilts at me as she whispers back. “It's like a giant jerk fest for you isn't it?”

My eruption of laughter causes some of the kids to glance over their shoulders at me. I make a tornado motion for them to turn back around and once they do I question, “So you can't really skate?”

“I can,” she replies. “I'm not an expert or anything, but during the summers growing up, I used to do it with some friends. The rink used to host free skate days every week. Got pretty good at it. Haven't done it in years. I should be okay, though.”

Seeing the perfect chance to get what I want yet again, I casually suggest,“Wanna bet?”

She crosses her legs. “On?”

“Racing from one end of the rink to the other.”

The two players start introducing themselves and asking basic questions such as does anyone recognize them followed by what the black object in his hand is called.

Keeping my voice low I say, “If I win, you go on a legit date with me.”

She sighs heavily, “This again?”

“Yeah. This again.”

I meet her eyes again, which seem to be filling with annoyance.

Not sure why. I'm not the one constantly turning her down. Constantly making her brain go into overtime trying to figure out why I'm not good enough to get a yes.

“Why do you suddenly wanna go out with me so bad?”

“I think we'd have a great time together.”

“We already have a great time together. Date not required.”

Good point.

“But we could have a
better
time. Dinner at The Peak? Looking out over the lake...”

“Really? Your suggestion for an
actual
date with me is your favorite pick up place? How romantic.”

Shit. I forgot she fucking knows that. That was....not a good play on my part.

I push, “I'll figure something better out when I win.”

“And if you lose?”

“Won't happen.”

Alexxa lowers her eyes to a glare. “And
when
you lose you can't have sex with anyone for a week.”

No fucking way.

I drop my jaw and snap, “Are you fucking crazy? A
week
!”

“The fact you think a week is even that bad is reason enough alone not to ever actually go out with you.” When my eyebrows furrow in confusion, she shakes her head. “I'll take this bet as long as you're honest about not boning anyone.”

“Swear.” I extend my hand. “You know I don't waste time with bullshit lies.”

Trying to fuck her is not a lie and I'm not lying in the process. So you can just tuck your judgmental look back in your pocket.

“Yeah...I'll make sure Warren is my extra pair of eyes.”

She doesn't need them considering the amount of time we spend together. Chances are if I'm not fucking, I'm hanging out with her, both of them, or playing one of the many sports I love with some dudes from the gym. Sometimes Alexxa comes to watch me play. Those games I uh....typically try a little harder. Can't let my best friend see me lose. No. It's not more than that. Shut up. This is about sex. Nothing else.

She slowly reaches her hand out for me to shake.

“You've got yourself a deal babe.”

“Don't call me that.”

The bet is made only moments before the players are announcing it's time for the kids to put on their skates and take the ice. Swiftly the two of us are on our feet immediately beginning to assist the excited students. In a long grueling process filled with complaints and mindless rambles, we help everyone get on skates, lace them, and eventually clop onto the ice where the players are waiting.

“What about your teachers?” The dark haired player calls to us. “Either of them good on the ice?” Without waiting for an answer he calls to Alexxa who's on the opposite end of the kids from me. “What about you, gorgeous? You any good on the ice?”

Alexxa smiles at the flattery.

Who the fuck does he think he is? That's no fucking way to talk to her. She's not a goddamn groupie. Even if she is fucking hot, we're here with a bunch of goddamn kids! Show some fucking respect. Try to get your dick touched on the sly not in front of the entire crowd.

She innocently shrugs. “I'm okay, I guess.”

“Why don't you come up here and I'll show you how to get it in the goal,” he says in such a way I can't stop myself from glaring.

You heard that sexual implication too. Don't deny it.

Alexxa starts to resist but the kids encourage her until she skates over to him. The sight of her body gracefully moving causes my dick to stir in my jeans. Nonchalantly, I adjust myself, eyes staying planted on her every move.

Her ass looks too good in those jeans. They make me wanna fucking sing that Ginuwine song.

“Alright Graham,” she huskily states. “I'm here. Show me how you want me.”

Is
she
fucking flirting? Right fucking now? What the hell does that asshole have that I don't? He's not fucking hotter. If anything his combination of features makes him look like a discount version of me. Plus, he probably gets his dick touched just as much as I do. Hell, probably more. He's a goddamn professional hockey player. They fuck chicks in every city they're in, despite if they're single or married. Is that a newsflash for you? Athletes cheating? Shouldn't be.

Graham positions himself with both his arms around her. A low growling sound lingers in my throat until there's a tugging at my jeans. I look down at Clare who seems to be terrified by the noise. I give her a wink, which makes her smile and turn back around to where her other teacher is getting felt up by some second generation Wayne Gretzky's wannabe.

Another giggle, I've never heard before escapes, as he grinds his body into hers and helps her sink one in the goal. The kids cheer and she tosses her arms around him at the victory.

You bet your ass that's the only goal he'll be sinking with her.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Alright, Greg-”

“Graham.”