The Hat Trick (ON HOLD AS OF 2/17/16)

Chapter Five: Dill

“Another round?” I asked taking a semi wobbly step towards the bar with Bailey’s empty glass in hand. I tried not to look down at the number of empty beer bottles I started collecting when we sat down a couple hours ago. It would have only reminded me that I was a drunk on top of being a liar.

She smiled up at me her bottle green eyes glossy and her cheeks tinged pink from all the alcohol, not to mention it was getting a little hot in the bar and we were one of the few couples left. Couple? Ha, another lie.

“Count me out this round,” she said with a little cat like stretch, her arms raised above her head. When she looked back up at me her bottom lip was between her teeth, a nervous habit I realized through the night. “You should probably stop too.”

I nodded in agreement finding myself still staring at her mouth, and what a pretty mouth too. Small, plump lips but when she laughed her mouth was all you saw, it was “insert poetic words here.” Yeah, it was that good. Before I realized what I was doing I cupped her jaw running my thumb across her bottom lip tugging it from her teeth. Her eyes widened as I heard her small intake of breath, yup she was shocked and she wasn’t the only one.

“I’ll be . . . right back.” I dropped my hand and turned sharply willing myself to walk a straight line to the bar and not face plant. I gingerly set down Bailey’s empty glass and finally exhaled not realizing that I had been holding my breath.

“I’m cutting you off Dill,” I looked up the voice belonging only to Cass as he finished drying a shot glass.

“Yeah, no worries Cass I was coming to close out my tab anyways.” I assured him by pulling out my wallet from my back pocket.

Cass set the shot down and scowled. “You know your money’s no good here, Dill.”

I rolled my eyes. “You gotta let me pay you someday Cass; it’ll start looking bad when you make all the Major Leaguers pay but not us NHLers.”

Cass snorted. “The only payment Becks or I need is for you boys to bring Ole’ Stanley into this bar. Otherwise don’t even bother arguing with me, I’ll out maneuver you every time.”

“Alright Cass, let me pay for her then?” I asked gesturing to Bailey, who was too busy with her phone to pay attention to our little exchange.

Cass waved his hand like some Jedi. “She doesn’t pay here either,”

I scoffed, but proceeded to pull out a couple twenties. “What does she pay you in Girl Scout Cookies, Cass?”

“Don’t knock my Tagalongs, kid.” He growled snapping his cleaning cloth at me before I could jump out of the way. My hand-to-eye-to-pain-coordination was a little off when I was drunk, so the snap stung like a bitch.

“Don’t make me jump over this bar, old man.” I meekly threatened because we both knew that even if I tried to jump over the bar I would end up flat on my ass and that would not look good in front of Bailey. Cass got a good laugh at that as he went back to drying the rest of the shot gasses.

“So, how does she factor into your little ‘who pays and who doesn’t pay’ table you’ve got going on in that crazy balding head of yours.” That balding comment earned me another snap, this one I was ready for though and the towel barely grazed my arm.

He shrugged looking over at Bailey. “I’ve known the kid since she turned eighteen and started going to the community college across town. The kids she works with are all a couple years older than her so they all come to drink and she’s stuck playing their DD. Even when she finally turned twenty-one all she orders is a Diet Coke, what she calls a DC on the Rocks, now every once in a while she’ll order a rum and coke but that’s usually when something weighing heavy on her mind.” He turned his attention back on the shot glass he was holding his eyes looking a little wistful.

“Her parents are good people, moms a pastor and dads an engineer. They raised one hell of a young woman and if you go screwing with her head like I know you do with all the Puck Bunny’s around here, I’ll take your stick and shove it right up your—”

“Dill, you’re always getting Cass worked up. What is it this time?” Beck asked coming out of nowhere, perfect timing too just like always.

Rebekah Casper was nothing short of amazing, which was always funny to analyze because she stands close to six foot. Long and willowy with grey streaked honey blond hair, Beck was a looker that all of us boys liked to flirt outrageously with. She has this whole ‘flower child’ persona on the outside but don’t bring up politics around her. You’ll be wrong even if you agree with her.

I held up my hands in surrender when I saw Cass readying his drying towel again. “I was only asking Cass about Bailey over there and he started threatening me, honest Beck.”    

“B’s such a sweetheart,” Beck cooed taking the towel turned weapon away from Cass, I made a face laughing silently that his weapon had been taken away. Until I heard another snap and felt the sting of yet another towel turned against me.

“What the hell Beck?” I exclaimed jumping back from the bar.

“Dill, kid, I love you. But if you hurt B I will take your stick and shove it up that cute, little behind of yours. Understand?” she asked twirling the towel for added effect. I held up my hands again in surrender, Jesus, enough with the beating.

“Alright, I swear on Stanley I won’t hurt this girl. But guys, come on you’ve got to give me something here as to why I’m swearing on the most holy of holies.” I argued taking a cautionary step back towards the bar.

“You’ve got a reputation Dill, and B is like the daughter we never had. That and she knows almost more about hockey than we do.” Cass explained wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist.

“You’ve wanted a daughter that’s sober and goes to church on Sunday mornings?” I joked eyeing the towel wearily.

I received an exasperated sigh instead from Beck. “Ever wondered why we’re closed on Sundays?”

I nodded. “That makes sense now, but I still don’t understand the warning I’m getting. You guys have never interfered before, why now?” Cass threw his hands in the air storming off, muttering something under his breath about taking too many pucks to the head.

“Dill, honey, you’re a man whore. I say this with love, but you’re the biggest player I have ever laid eyes on and trust me I’ve seen plenty through the years at this bar, but you are by far the worst.” Beck patted my hand like I was a five year and she was using too big of words for me to understand. I completely understood the terms; man-whore and womanizer, I just never thought Beck paid enough attention to call me out.

I grabbed Becks’ hand looking over my shoulder at Bailey who was still on her phone with not a care in the world why I was taking so long to “pay” for our tab. “Beck, I’ve just finished having the longest talk with a girl in my life. Now granted I don’t remember a lot of it, but I know for a fact that conversation was the greatest conversation I’ve ever had and it had nothing to do with hockey.”

Beck sighed. “She doesn’t even know who you really are Dill. You haven’t told her anything about yourself.”

That fact fazed me for a brief moment but it wasn’t enough to get me to not ask for Bailey’s number. “I’ll tell her Beck, you know I hate secrets.”

I went to walk away but Beck wouldn’t let go. “No games Dill.”

Taking her hand in mine again I pressed a kiss across her knuckles. “No games.” I promised. Walking back to Bailey I felt only a twinge of guilt that I lied to Beck, I wasn’t going to tell Bailey who I really was right off the bat. For knowing so much about hockey and the Redgraves she really didn’t know about their players all that much, or at least what they looked like. I was going to use that advantage for as long as I could. I can’t remember the last time a girl talked to me for me and not the jersey I wore. I knew that eventually this will blow up in my face but I hope to have a fun ride while it lasts.