Page 94 of She Wolf

“Who broke him?” Knox asks, only hearing the tail end of the conversation.

“No one. He wants us all to tie one on, but we don’t want any trouble with women,” Casey tells him.

“What? No girls at all?” Knox whines.

“Not tonight,” I say as sternly as my slightly inebriated self can muster.

He looks up to the heavens as if asking for the strength to deal with this night and then reaches for his phone, which pings in his pocket. “Okay. Scott just texted; they’re held up. They won’t make it out until tomorrow now.” Knox takes in the near-empty beer pitchers and then walks off to the bar to catch up with Rex, who’s flashing his credit card at Ripley.

I’ve sank at least half a beer and texted Coralie by the time Knox and Rex return, the

trays they carry look like they’re going to spill over any second.

“Callan won’t drink that shit,” Adam says pointing at the turquoise blue cocktails Rex is trying to balance.

“It’s called ‘Adios Motherfucker’ and has enough liquor in here to loosenevenCallan up.” Rex winks and then hands out the toxic waste he deems a beverage.

When everyone has a cocktail in hand, I bang my empty beer bottle on the table, silencing the chatter of the group, and stand.

“Boys. As of a month ago, we no longer have to hang our heads in shame. We rallied and look where it got us. Look where our grit and determination got us…back into the fucking playoffs. We were on our asses, but we dusted ourselves off and proved to our fans, all those other fuckers, and ourselves, that we are exactly where we belong. So, a toast,” I raise my drink.

“To Korhonen the sorry bastard, may he be fit and well in no time. To Knox for pulling up his big boy pants and getting the job done. To our friends and family,” I smile at Theo. “And to the women we love. They said to have a night out, so let's make it a good one. Next year boys, we take the cup, together, and hopefully Baby Madden can come along for the ride.”

There's a round of applause and a few wolf whistles as we all sink our drinks.

***

“Do you hear that?” Casey says to Rex as we walk the path that leads up to the side of the beach house. The second and third floors are shrouded in darkness but there’s a weird purple and green hue coming from the back of the house and the muffled sound of music. Checking my watch, it’s nearly two in the morning, I’m surprised the girls are still up.

“I do and it can only mean one thing.” Rex’s brow furrows as he answers Casey.

“This is going to be so embarrassing…for them,” Casey laughs and hiccups.

“What does it mean?” Adam asks excitedly. “It sounds like fun.”

Rex trips over nothing but catches himself before falling. “That, is the sight and sound of too many margaritas,” he tells us.

“Awww. They’ve stolen our buzz, man,” Knox groans, as we walk in through the front of the house. The music is muted but grows louder as we approach the closed double doors that lead into the back of the house, which is open plan.

Casey looks at each of us before turning the handle and pushing both doors open, letting them swing dramatically, and it takes a second for my brain to register the sight.

“Holy. Shit. What the hell is going on?” Theo says to no one in particular.

“The Hell?” Callan asks aloud as we survey the scene.

“It’s Britney, bitch!” Adam shouts and runs straight into the middle of where the girls are dancing.

The furniture has been pushed out around the room and the throws and cushions are haphazardly strewn across the floor. There are shiny neon glow sticks everywhere and disco lights, are placed around the large living space.

Where the hell did they get disco lights from?

But that is nothing compared to what they have on. When we left earlier this evening, they were wearing normal clothes, but as I take in the sight of Coralie before me, I feel like I should be both showing offandcovering up my girl all at the same time because it’s making my drunken mind race a mile a second.

A green gym bra and tiny matching shorts hug all her best bits, and a belly dancer wrap hangs low on her slim waist. Fuck me she’s hot.

Hot, hot, hot.

“Gunnnner Greeeeey. You’re home,” she sings as she skips over to me.

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