Page 5 of Second-Rate Superstar

I hadn’t met her, but Coop was Levi’s Hartford stand-by. She came when he called, but as he pointed out earlier, he wasn’t a one-woman man. I wondered if she knew that.

“I don’t know, man,” I protested. “I just left the college scene. Not looking to take a step backward.”

Snorting, he replied, “You must not be fucking the right girls, then. Because the ones I’ve been with? They’re into some nasty shit. I hear they pick a lot of it up from books. And you won’t hear me complaining.”

Staring at him, I asked, “Books? What kind of books?”

Brown eyes darkening, he leaned in to whisper, “Dirty books. Good girls read their porn instead of watching it.”

I eyed him skeptically. “You’re telling me college chicks are wild in bed because of something they read in a romance novel?”

“Fucking right, I am,” Levi confirmed. “Spanking, anal, toy play, bondage, hand necklaces. They beg for it. And who am I to say no?”

“Hand necklaces?”

Levi bracketed his hands, coming toward my throat like he was about to choke me, and I slapped them away, causing him to laugh. “Get it? A necklace with my hands. They come so hard they choke the life out of my dick. Fucking insane.”

“You better be careful before you land yourself in jail. It’s all fun and games until a girl ends up with bruises in the shape of fingers around her throat.”

“Nah,” he countered. “If you’re leaving bruises, you’re not doing it right.” Placing his hand around his own throat, he demonstrated, “You push on the pulse points, cut off the blood supply. It’s not about leaving marks or crushing a windpipe.”

“Whatever you say,” I muttered.

“Don’t knock it ’til you try it. If you want, I can ask Coop to point out the freakiest of the bunch. It’ll do you good to get your dick wet before the first day of training camp.”

“No thanks.”

I didn’t take bunnies to bed anymore. Not after Lacey dumped my ass in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip. At twenty-two, I wasn’t exactly looking for a love connection, so I didn’t even tell women my real name. I got my needs met but wasn’t looking for a relationship. Maybe someday, I would find a girl who could see past the sport I played to the person I was beneath, but I wasn’t holding out hope. The odds weren’t in my favor when the city I lived in idolized my brother and we happened to share the same face.

“Suit yourself,” Levi said. “But either way, you’re the new guy in the house and on the hook for booze.”

Levi’s house parties were legendary. Half the student body of Hartford State raved about them come Monday morning. They put the frat house parties to shame. I could only imagine how much supplying the alcohol would set me back. I wouldn’t get my first paycheck until October and was currently living off my signing bonus.

Sighing, I dared to ask, “How much are we talking?”

Waving a dismissive hand, he replied, “At minimum seven kegs, thirty bottles of wine, a couple of fifths of tequila, vodka, rum, and anything else you can think of. And don’t forget about the mixers.”

Jesus. The quick math in my head at how much all of that would cost was a staggering amount. I was suddenly very grateful that the team fed us during camp hours, but I’d be scraping by eating ramen for dinner for a few weeks, like a poor college kid. Either that or stopping by Jaxon’s house for a “family dinner” more often than I’d like.

Levi must have seen the panicked look on my face because he said, “If you think that’s bad, be glad you showed up after they stopped making rookies pick up the tab for a team dinner on the road. Mine was over five grand, and I nearly shit a brick.”

That didn’t make me feel much better. At least, if I took this hit once we were on the road, I’d have an influx of cash in my bank account. And if I knew Jaxon, he’d have the guys take it easy on me.

If this were my rookie initiation, I would grin and bear it.

Maybe I needed to rethink getting laid to ease the pain.

Welcome to the Connecticut Comets, kid.

Chapter 2

Dakota

Noah skates hard acrossthe ice. He pulls back and lets a slapstick fly.

No. That wasn’t right.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

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