Page 9 of Snap Shot

I scratch out the scribble on a paper napkin, distracted by ruminating anger. What was the beginning of a woman's face is now destroyed. Furious disappointment takes over the anxiety. So much for leading the team. I let them down. I let myself down. I'd much rather grieve in private, but here we are. Drinking away the pain while DJ Kumquat shamelessly mixes country with electronica.

The guys scatter throughout the nightclub's roped-off upper level. Their silent avoidance means they're pissed off but are civil enough not to give me more shit. Olsen and Szecze take shot after shot with a few busty blondes in skimpy dresses. Desperate for a chance. Puck bunnies, every single one.

A bored Fletch scrolls through his phone next to Wade, who grimaces at Jaeger. Our captain’s got his girl seated in his lap. He was a bigger grouch before he started dating Skylar. She's fucking awesome. How she and Wade are best friends is beyond me.

Skylar coddles Derrick, mouthing what I imagine are sweet assurances with every caress on his jaw and cheek. He nuzzles into her neck, soaking in all her sunshine. The man's totally soft for her.

Wade glowers and makes a face when they start making out. “Gross.”

Jaeg's middle finger flies up from where his hand rested on Skylar's back. It turns and plants into Wade's forehead, the lone digit moving him away. The invader of personal space sets his drink down and karate-chops Jaeger's forearm before jumping to his feet and stomping over to the teammates knocking back drinks.

“Scotch?” Cooke, the light-footed sneak, shows up next to me.

I tuck the doodle into my jacket pocket, accepting the lowball glass. He claps a firm hand on my back as he sits, the amber liquid almost splashing out before I throw it back in one swallow.

“Don't worry, man. We're gonna hire the best lawyer on the hill to handle it.”

“Lawyer? For what?”

“Wake up and read the news.”

I stopped after the substance abuse allegations.

“They've got pictures of you with more women and Pall keeps adding to the story. Making you out to be some conniving playboy. Saying you’re breaching the contract’s family clause.”

“Ugh, what a nightmare.” My fingers rub into my face and jaw. “I told you. Whatever she's saying, it's not true.” I dig out my phone. “Can't I call Annalise and clear things?”

“Fuck no, you can't! Are youinsane? We need that lawyer. What Pall's doing, it's slander. Maybe defamation, too. You're losing money, your performance stinks while your reputation's dragged through the mud. Hell, the whole team is affected.”

Twist the knife, why don’t ya?

I hang my head. My dress shoes are suddenly interesting.

“Remember that whole scandal with Senator Pearson? With the aide claiming misconduct?”

“Vaguely.”

“This is the lawyer who won his case. We can fight this. Smooth it all out. By next season, you're scot-free.” He pats his hands clean.

I'm not in the wrong, but it doesn't look like this will go away on its own. And I don't wanna fucking deal with it anymore. “Fine. Whatever it takes.”

“Thank you! She's gonna be here later. I'll introduce you.”

She? Great. Just what I need. Another woman in my life.

“Actually” —he peers down to his phone and stands— “she might be here already. Lemme go find her.”

Cooke leaves without another glance, passing Wade, who hones in on my sorry ass. Not now, man. Let me wallow in peace. He marches over and plops himself down, setting two beer bottles on the table in front of us. Wade pushes one over, but I shake my head in refusal. If I drink any more tonight, it'll be alone on my couch at home.

“You're fucking depressing.”

I glare at him and rumble out my annoyance.

His eyes brighten, dopey, toothy smile shining in the black lights. “I know something that will cheer you up.”

“You find a way to get us back into the finals? Or do you have a secret time-traveling machine that can undo the past two weeks? No?”

“Smash or pass.”

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