Page 52 of Ice Mechanic

“Let’s try not to attract any more attention,” Bobby says nervously. “Come this way.”

“Ooh la la!” A raspy voice wheezes, stopping me and Bobby in our tracks.

“Well, hello, gorgeous! If this is your mascot, I’ll come to the games!”

Grey heads bobbing, the roller derby ladies rush down to me, phones out and snapping a million pictures.

“Can I get a picture, hun? I’m a big fan.”

Before I can give my approval, the woman pushes a paper-thin cheek to mine and takes a selfie.

“Me next!” Her friend squeals.

One by one, the ladies line up.

“Can you take it, honey?” A woman that smells like Vicks Vapor Rub hands her phone over. “I want to get that nice little V-line at your hips in the shot.”

I almost choke.

So this is how it feels to be objectified.

“Whoa, whoa. Okay, let’s break this party up.” Max slides between me and someone’s naughty grandma.

“But my picture!” Naughty Granny says.

“I’ll take it,” I say with a patient nod.

Max frowns.

The woman brightens.

I take the shot, making sure all of my abs are showing, and lead Bobby to the locker room. After handing him my keys, he retrieves my gym bag from the car and returns with it.

Max is waiting on the bench when I change into a T-shirt, shorts, and my gym shoes. His eyes are narrowed and he looks like he’s been chewing a handful of thumb tacks.

Sighing heavily again, I check the time on my phone. April probably left the garage by now.

I missed my window.

“What happened?” Max demands.

I tell him about walking out of the shower and my clothes being missing.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous!” he mutters.

While Max rants about sportsmanship, my phone buzzes.

DEREK: FreshButtFit, a luxury boxers brand, is interested in a meeting. Call me when you have a chance.

“I guess the picture’s gotten out already,” I mumble, stowing the phone away.

“The news team?” Max groans.

“It’s probably the grannies.”

“That stinks, Chance.”

“Not really. I got an offer from a luxury boxers brand out of it so…” I shrug.

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