Fresh Ice Read online

  The party had already gone on too long, that much he remembered. Sally tried to get him to leave, begged him to leave. But I was too busy being the huge hockey star. I couldn’t leave when there were drinks being bought for me.

  And then…

  And then she told me about the baby.

  Suddenly Sally’s face was there, in the shower with him, everywhere, in front of him. Quinn closed his eyes and crumpled to the floor of the shower, guilt burning him with every drop of water.

  “Quinn, I’m pregnant.”

  Those three words should have sobered me up. But I was so impressed with myself. I bought a round for everyone in that damn place and announced it to the world. And what did I say, what did I insist on?

  I had to drive her home. She couldn’t drive in such a delicate condition, I wouldn’t hear of it. So I drove.

  And my drunken ego got her killed.

  Now he slumped on the floor of the shower, unable to wash away the film of filth that clung to him since that night. How long he sat there, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. The hot water depleted and chilled, he turned off the stream and stepped into the bathroom. His robe was warm on his chilled, wet skin. Wiping the mirror clear of steam he looked at himself.

  Serena saved me. She was there at the hospital before the police. She was the one who knew Sally wasn’t yet twenty. She was the one who covered up the whole sordid thing so completely that even the people in the bar, even the people I bought celebratory drinks for, couldn’t recall even seeing me that night. She was the one who insisted I needed medical treatment immediately, so immediately that the police didn’t get a shot at a sobriety test until I was well on my way to being sober.

  How she did it all so quickly, Quinn never asked, and preferred not to know.

  She couldn’t save my hockey career, the Preds insisted I retire. But Serena saved everything else; my reputation, my lifestyle. She gave me another avenue to fame and fortune in Nashville. All I had to do was everything she said.

  Their arrangement stopped feeling sexy quickly and started feeling more like slavery. It was a trade off, as she reminded him frequently: His top shelf life in Nashville for his obedience to her.

  I now live a filthy half life, doing whatever Serena wants me to do, whenever she wants me to do it.

  The filthiness of his obedience to her took on a whole new meaning the day she found where her former skating partner, Jason Masters, had been hiding since the day she was humiliated at Nationals.

  I had a hand in ruining the life of a man simply because he crossed Serena. And now he’s dead, and his widow is destitute.

  No one can save me from that.

  Quinn shivered at the thought, and tied the robe more tightly around him as he left the bathroom. A trip to Chance’s is clearly in order.

  ***

  An hour later, Quinn set his glass down and stared at the rows of bottles on the other side of the bar. There was something mesmerizing about the promises each bottle offered glimmering in the half-light of the bar. How easy would it be to just sail away again?

  “You want something else, Quinn?”

  Quinn tore his gaze away from the bottles. Of course I want something else. I want to forget everything the way I used to. I want to be the life of the party. I want the last three years to never have happened. “No, no thanks, Chance. Just another ginger ale.”

  “Comin’ up.”

  The music from the stage downstairs annoyed him. Quinn swirled the ice in his glass and looked over the railing. Chance’s place, aptly named “Second Chance’s” after Chance’s first bar burned to the ground in a grease fire six years earlier, was a cavernous two story affair, dance floor and stage downstairs, bar upstairs. Quinn came because he liked Chance. They went way back, and Chance was one of the few who didn’t constantly beg him to be ‘his old self.’ Quinn liked Chance, but he rarely liked Chance’s choice of music acts. “What the hell is that, Chance?”

  “Ginger ale, what you asked for. I know it’s not the special brand of ginger ale your pampered ass is used to, but it’s what I’ve got.” Chance didn’t look away from the television screen above the bar. Quinn was the only patron sitting at the bar, everyone else was the responsibility of the downstairs bartender, and Chance, Quinn knew, was a man who didn’t like to step in and take on more responsibility than he had to.

  “It’s called Vernor’s, and that’s not what I’m talking about. What is that infernal noise down there?”

  “That, my friend, is music.”

  “That’s what we’re calling music now? Some guy sobbing on his guitar?”

  Chance threw a glance over his shoulder. “Leave the guy alone. He’s a local kid. Sings sad folk songs. The girls seem to like him.”

  Quinn held up his glass for a refill. “What girls? There’s no one in here but you, me, and sad sack down there.” Quinn studied the musician more closely. “And he’s hardly a kid. If he’s a minute younger than I am, I’ll eat whatever fried mess you’re calling today’s special.”

  “He’s a guy who comes in here a lot to write music. Name’s Collier James. He doesn’t bother anyone, and he does not have a bad voice. He and a group of guys travel around those Renaissance fairs during the summer and sing drinking songs or whatever. During his off time he comes in here and works out material.”

  “He’s annoying me.”

  “You could always go someplace else.” Chance turned his attention back to the ball game.

  “What, and miss all this great customer service?”

  “Well if you feel that strongly about it, then by all means don’t be here Saturday night.”

  “Why not?”

  “His band’s my opening act. I got three on stage Saturday night and his band is first up.”

  “You can’t be serious. You think the under aged college co-eds are going to buy your watered down drinks and listen to that guy?”

  Chance frowned at him. “First of all, every person that walks through that door has proper I.D. Second, girls like this guy and they bring their boyfriends to listen to him and the boyfriends can’t listen to him without drinking. It’s what you might call a circle of life.”

  “I notice you didn’t say anything about watering down the drinks.”

  Chance twisted his face into an expression Quinn could only assume to be a smile. “Hey, this isn’t a non-profit organization.”

  Quinn rubbed his temples. Do not get to Chance’s before nine.

  “You know, you could help me out in that department.”

  Quinn looked up from his glass. “Which department would that be? The watered down drinks, the kitchen, or the music?”

  “Smart ass. No, you know you used to get up on stage with the bands and really get the crowd riled up. You were a star.”

  “That’s the operative word, Chance. I’m not a star anymore.”

  “Bull. You know very well you’re still one of the hottest sports figures in this town.”

  Quinn shook his head. “I’m not sure what you want from me, but I doubt I’m going to like it.”

  “It won’t be that bad. Just get on the stage between acts and tell the crowd how awesome this place is.”

  “I’m not going near the stage if that guy is on it.”

  “Okay, so be here around ten. Introduce the headliner.”

  Quinn sighed. “Fine. I’ll be here.”

  Provided Serena doesn’t have me tied up.

  He looked over the railing at the singer again and cringed. Not sure which is worse.

  SIX

  Izzy set her suitcase on the bed and looked around the room. The room felt too large. She realized she’d never had her own hotel room. She sat on one bed, then the other, feeling just the tiniest bit wicked. Outside her window Jenna and Mikayla’s giggles floated as they dragged several cases into the room they were to share for a night before they could move to their dorm room the next day. Sean and Adele had the room between hers and the girls’.

  Sitting
on the bed, Izzy realized she was the odd wheel. For the first time since she was a child, she didn’t have a partner and everyone else did. The idea was exhilarating and frightening at the same time.

  Here I am, back in Nashville.

  Not sure what I expected. Border guards?

  She smiled at the thought. As they’d gotten closer to the city, Izzy flashed back to the night she and Jason left. I was so scared. It felt like the world was chasing us with pitchforks and torches.

  She frowned. “Why were we so scared? Sure, my parents were furious, but Jason’s parents were okay. We were out of skating, the Olympics were gone. Why did we run in the middle of the night?”

  Jason woke me up. “We have to go. We have to go now.” Izzy heard his voice as if he were sitting next to her in the room, not an echo two decades old.

  “Where are we going?” Izzy pictured herself as she had been; sixteen, obviously pregnant, still sleepy.

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll change our names and we’ll be safe.”

  Izzy blinked at the memory. “Funny. I never asked what we’d be safe from.”

  Why didn’t I ask that?

  I didn’t have a choice. I let Jason take me to Wisconsin to live and work and raise a child under a name that wasn’t mine. And I never asked why.

  I’m not afraid to be here. I’m…home.

  The feeling was unexpected, and undeniable.

  “Mom?”

  Izzy looked up from her reverie at Jenna, who stood in the doorway. “Oh, are you two settled?”

  “Yeah. We thought we’d hit that Irish pub across the street for dinner and then go down to the District for some music. Wanna join us?”

  “Sounds good to me. But I’m a little tired from the drive, so maybe I’ll just come back here after dinner.”

  “You okay?”

  Izzy forced a smile. “I’m fine, Jens, just tired.”

  Jenna nodded. “Is it weird, being back?”

  Izzy glanced past her daughter out the door to Demonbreun Avenue. Just down the street is the Sommet Center where I skated…but they don’t call it that anymore. It’s Bridgestone Center. “Maybe. I’m sure I’ll see a lot of changes this weekend.”

  “You excited to be moving back?”

  Izzy nodded, but put her finger to her lips to quiet Jenna. “They don’t know. You haven’t told Mikayla, have you?”

  Jenna grinned. “Oh I’ve told Mike. She’s all for it. And no, she didn’t say a word to Aunt Adele. She wanted to be there, though, when you told them.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Yeah, apparently Aunt Adele’s all hot to have you living in Mike’s room now that our house is gone. She is convinced you’re all packed up to move to their house. Mike says it’s going to be epic.”

  “I’m sure Mikayla didn’t just say ‘epic,’ but she’s right. Adele really wants me to live with them.” Likes the idea of having me to boss around full time, is probably more like it.

  “Oh geez, Mom, what about the ticket?”

  Izzy picked up her purse. “Do we have time before dinner? This store isn’t far from here.”

  Jenna checked her watch. “We can make time.” She leaned out of the doorway. “Mike!”

  “What?”

  “You wanna run downtown before dinner?”

  “Hell yeah! I gotta pick up some smokes!”

  “You are not picking up cigarettes, Mikayla Grady!” Adele stepped out of her room and glared at the girls.

  “Oh take a pill, Mother. I don’t smoke. I get my kicks getting a rise out of you.” Mikayla stepped out of her room and closed the door. “So where are we going?”

  “You’re not going anywhere. We’re having dinner at that place across the street.” Adele nodded to the small row of shops and eateries. “Just as soon as your father is out of the shower.”

  Mikayla rolled her eyes. “You know how he is about showers when he doesn’t have to pay the water bill. He could be hours.” She led the way down the stairs to the sidewalk.

  “Be back by six.” Adele called after the retreating forms of the girls.

  “This won’t take long,” Izzy said calmly as she locked her hotel room door and caught up with the girls. Her heart beat a little faster, as if she was escaping something.

  ***

  It’s a rare Saturday night that Serena doesn’t have me in her clutches. Quinn smiled at his glass of ginger ale as it glimmered in the dim lights of Chance’s bar. And now that Mr. Sad Singer and his band of sadder misfits is off the stage maybe I can have a good time.

  With practiced eye, Quinn scanned the women on the dance floor below him. On any given night, not that long ago, he’d call it ‘fishing’ and he’d find a woman, or two, and have one of the waitresses bring them to him. It was all so easy back then.

  He caught the eye of one beautiful brunette who smiled and waved flirtatious fingers at him. It’s still too easy.

  “You know she’s a felony, don’t you?”

  Quinn broke eye contact with the girl, swung around in his seat, and glared at Chance. “I thought you said everyone in here was legal.”

  “I thought you said you were done with your fishing expeditions.”

  “I am.” Quinn drained his glass and pushed it toward Chance.

  “Pity. I can’t lie: your parties made me money back in the day.”

  “I know, my bar tab sent your kids to college.”

  Chance refilled Quinn’s glass and pushed it toward him. “Not just your bar tab. Every guy in the place turned into a big shot, trying to be you. It was good for business.”

  Quinn stared at his glass, wishing, not for the first time that evening, that ginger ale had the same memory erasing powers of whiskey.

  “Still, the new view you have on life, it’s much healthier for you, I suppose.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Careful, Chance. You’re sounding a little nostalgic.” Quinn drained the glass again. “But I made you a promise and I’m a man of my word. I’ll do a little monkey dance on stage and introduce the headliner.”

  “You mean it?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Just keep the ginger ale coming and don’t hand me a bill at the end of the night.”

  “You’re on,” Chance grinned. “At the rate you’re going, you’ll probably drink me out of about five bucks tonight, so it’s more than a fair trade off.”

  Chance poured Quinn another glass and set it in front of him. Quinn watched the bubbles of the carbonated beverage float around in the amber liquid. And it’ll be the high point of my week. How sad is that?

  ***

  “Here we are.” Jenna pointed to a dubious looking gas station some six blocks from the hotel.

  “This is the right address. I guess this is it.” Izzy didn’t move. Both girls walked into the mini mart, then walked back out.

  “Mom, are you coming?”

  “Aunt Iz, if this is too much for you, we can just do it. We’re over eighteen, so whatever, right?”

  Izzy sighed. “This is my quest.” She squared her shoulders and walked in. An icy wall of air conditioning slapped them.

  “Wow, what the effin ef is that smell?” Mikayla wrinkled her nose.

  Izzy looked around the vast, crowded, disorganized convenience store. “Wait, there’s the counter.” She pointed toward the back of the store.

  Careful not to touch anything, or let anything touch them, the three women moved toward the counter. The closer they got, the more clear two things became: First, the counter area was no more organized or clean than the rest of the store, but, situated closer to the rest rooms, it did smell far worse. Second, the man behind the counter may have been the owner, or he may have been a homeless person taking a nap.

  “Uh, excuse me?” Izzy could barely get the words out, for fear of breathing in the fumes emitting from the rest rooms. “Excuse me?”

  “Hey, buddy!” Mikayla shouted, jolting the man behind the counter awake.

  “What, what do you want?”


  “Look, we’re so sorry to disturb…whatever it is you’re doing here,” Izzy looked around behind the counter and frowned. “We have a lottery ticket that was bought here and we’d like to see if it’s a winner.”

  “Scanner’s right there.” The man nodded vaguely at some point on the counter to his left. “See for yourself.”

  “Yes, I can see you have quite a lot of work to do.” Jenna took a step to her right and gingerly moved a display rack of cherry flavored cigars and silk roses to reveal a lottery ticket scanner. “Okay, Mom, go ahead.”

  Izzy held the ticket under the scanner and waited until a beep sounded. She looked at the display screen. “Jenna, what does that say?”

  Jenna studied the blue numbers. “Uh, well, I think you have a winning ticket.” She leaned closer. “Mom, I think you won some money!”

  Izzy’s hands trembled as she held the ticket under the scanner once more. “It says I’ve won…I’ve won five thousand dollars!”

  The three women squealed and hugged each other. Counter guy leaned forward as a greasy smirk crossed his dirty face. “Now we’re talkin’.”

  They froze in their tracks and stared at him. “You’re a pig.” Izzy murmured.

  “That might be, but I’m the pig who gets to verify your ticket. I’m the pig who tells you how to go about collecting your winnings.”

  Mikayla held up the ticket. “Well, it says here, Mr. Pig, where we’re supposed to go if this ticket is worth more than $600.” She cast a smile at the man. “So I guess that means we don’t need your skanky ass for anything.”

  Izzy and Jenna laughed out loud at Mikayla’s brash speech and started for the door.

  “Yeah, well, you won’t get the full five k, ya know! They take out taxes! They take out lots of taxes right off the bat!”

  “Maybe some of that tax money will go to removing this landfill!” Jenna shouted back as the women, all laughing out loud, left the store.