“Aaron, over here.”
“I love you, Aaron Skkye.”
“Aaron. Aaron.”
Holding up one hand to give them a wave, I stayed far away and made my way to the bus. Dominic and a few others hopped out of line to sign autographs and bask in the attention, trying to see if any of the groupies were worth elevating.
What people didn’t realize was that just like ball players, people who referred to themselves as ball bunnies and jersey chasers had their own first string, second string, and benchwarmers. We always saw them hanging around in our hotel lobby. All it would take was me whipping it out and a ball bunny would be on her knees sucking me off.
I took the first seat available as the rest of the team climbed aboard. Once the driver closed the door, Maggie, our team secretary, a middle-aged woman with fire engine red hair, stood up.
“Listen up,” Maggie announced. “We are on floor eleven and there will be guards at all stairway exits. If you listed your family as attending, then they have already received a copy of the key. Bus leaves tomorrow morning at ten, don’t miss it. Should you miss our departure, you will have to explain why to Miss Romero.” Maggie said the same thing every time we got on a bus: she reminded us of some details and then gave the same warning and included the same consequences.
Carmen Romero was the owner of the Lightning, and she was a ball-breaker. None of us wanted to be in her crosshairs.
The bus pulled in front of the Conrad, and Maggie stepped down. As we got off the bus, she handed us our room keys. Our luggage was already in our rooms.
“Aaron, come on man, come hang with us,” Hakeem said as he walked down the steps of the bus behind me.
“Nah.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I’ve got a bottle of scotch calling my name up in the room.”
Ignoring the next throng of women shouting, I grabbed my key and headed for the elevator. When I stepped off, I nodded to the security guard, then went to find my room.
The room itself was about as standard as they got with a full bathroom, minibar, and bed. Hell, at least I had a decent view of the skyline.
I stripped from my suit and tugged on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt before cracking the seal on my bottle of Macallan 24 sitting in my suitcase.
My phone rang, but it wasn’t a number I was familiar with, so I ignored it. Grabbing the remote, I scrolled through the channels until I landed on ESPN, but I had to pause when my phone rang again from the same number.
“Hello?”
“Erin, where’s Erin?”
“Um, this is Aaron.”
The woman, who was obviously drunk, laughed as if I had just said the funniest thing ever. “Really, stop teasing. Get Erin for me.”
“This is Aaron, who is this?”
“Erin? Whoa, you sick?”
“No. Why?”
“Your voice, it doesn’t sound like you, it’s so deep. Head rush.”
I chuckled. “Who are you?”
“Erin, don’t be stupid, it’s me, Vivian.”
Deciding to just play along, I smiled. “Hey, Vivian, how are you?”
“Not good. I’m so fucking lonely. I know, I know, you always tell me that it’s time for me to move on. Ugh. Do you know how long it’s been since I had sex? Can your cherry grow back?”
I coughed, and some highly prized Macallan 24 spewed from my mouth. “I don’t think cherries grow back.”
“Damn it.” Vivian sighed.
“As far as your sex life, I have no clue how long it’s been.”
“It’s been since Eric.” Vivian started crying.
Okay, I didn’t do crying females, maybe because all my life it had been just my addict mom and me. I was the one who had an excuse to cry, we would be on the move for days at a time with little food and even less money. But it would be Mom crying in fits between her highs.
Vivian was still crying about how much she missed Eric, and I sort of felt sorry for her. I had never been in love, but I could guess that breakups were hard for both sides. “Why, Erin, why? Why did he have to leave me?”
“I don’t know, sometimes we all just need to move on, you know, try something different.”
“Need to move on? He didn’t need to move on. We were planning a trip for our five-year anniversary.” She panted. “What are you saying? You think Eric wanted to leave me? How could you? I loved him, and I know that he loved me.”
Vivian was on a nonstop flow of talk, so I used my time to refill my glass. This poor woman, whoever she was, just needed to vent.
“It’s all that . . . that . . . asshole’s fault,” Vivian shouted.
Oh, there was another woman. “Why did you call me?” I asked.
“What? You don’t want me in your life anymore?” Vivian hiccupped. “I need you, Erin.”
Her tone was broken enough to squeeze a bit of sympathy out of me. I’d never been needed. Well, except for by my mother when she needed me to bail her ass out of jail, or when she claimed to need food when all she wanted was money for drugs. Still, I wasn’t whomever this chick meant to call, so I knew her need wasn’t directed at me.
Vivian’s words became muffled, and I heard the faint sound of shuffling and things being knocked over. “Vivian, you there? You okay?”
“Yeah, hold your panties . . . santies . . . aunties . . . um, what rhymes with panties?”
Chuckling, I tried to rack my brain, but I couldn’t think of anything either. “Not sure.”
“Noooot a poet, I know it.” Vivian drawled her words out. “That’s okay, I grabbed the mini wines from the fridge.”
Mini wines? “Where are you?”
“I’m at the hotel, silly, remember? I had that wedding to go
