A Secret for a Secret (All In #3)(76)

“We gotta get Queenie out of here. They’re sending one of the stylists to our house. We showed up early, and Bishop thought he was being funny posting about ball waxing. The media showed up because you two have your bromance going on.”

One of the reporters asks him if Stevie’s pregnant.

Bishop jabs a finger in the reporter’s direction. “Yes. With sextuplets, because my army of sperm is the motherfucking bomb. We’re gonna start our own damn hockey team in one fell swoop.” He raises his arms in the air like he’s preaching a sermon.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. My brother is going to shit a brick when this goes viral.” Stevie spins us around and flanks me as we head back to my SUV. She and Queenie duck into the back seat and I get behind the wheel, soon pulling out into traffic before the reporters can surround us. Bishop does a good job of distracting everyone, letting us make a quick getaway.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Queenie’s eyes are wide, her fingers at her lips, and she looks like she’s about to cry. Again.

Stevie meets my concerned gaze in the rearview mirror and throws her arm around Queenie’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s just fresh gossip.”

“I can’t go to the game tonight. I can’t face that kind of mob.”

“It’ll be fine. We already have a plan to get into the arena tonight. And you don’t have to worry because we’ll be in a box and reporters can’t get to us; plus, now that I’m pregnant with sextuplets, no one is going to care about your divorce from Douchey McDickface.”

“I can’t believe Bishop did that. You hate media drama.”

“I hate it when they use baseless facts to railroad people more. Let them have a heyday with that. I’m sure I’ll get knocked up sooner than later, and someone will say it’s someone else’s baby.”

I want to stick around and make sure Queenie is actually okay, but I’m out of time and I need to head to the arena, so I’m forced to leave her in Stevie’s capable hands. So much for a relaxing afternoon for her.

Obviously I’m worried about Queenie, and distracted. I check in with Queenie after I get to the arena, and she assures me she’s okay, sends me a shot of her team-color-themed manicure, and tells me that she’s still coming to the game, which is a relief. I’m grateful for Stevie and the other wives, because today has been tough enough for her as it is. I just want things to go smoothly tonight.

Most of my family has already arrived in Seattle, apart from Hanna, who’s coming in through LA because of a conference she was attending, and her flight was delayed by a couple of hours, so she’ll miss the first half of the game.

I check my messages on the way from the parking lot into the arena. Based on the family chat, they’ve already dropped their stuff off at the house, fought over rooms, raided my fridge, and made fun of my lack of exciting beverage options for anyone but toddlers. They obviously haven’t found the liquor that Queenie brought over. Or the stocked beer fridge in the garage.

I have a new message from Hanna letting me know she’s finally on her way to Seattle and that she’ll see me after the game—that one was sent about ten minutes ago.

There are private messages from my mom telling me she has a very special surprise and that everyone is very excited to see me. “Special surprises” are not a rarity and often take the form of a hand-knit sweater, or a beanie, or a scarf. I have a closet full. I message back to let her know I’m excited to see everyone and that I look forward to the surprise before I pocket my phone and push through the doors to the arena.

I pass the hall leading to the offices and use the back entrance to access the locker room. Normally Bishop and I would have ridden in together, but with my family coming it made more sense for us to come separately.

Bishop is already there, in his underwear. They have a strange print on them that I don’t want to inspect too closely, because it looks like there’s a woman hugging his junk, and it’s magnified thanks to the cup he’s wearing under them. The woman actually looks like Stevie when her hair is pastel purple.

I drop down on the bench in front of my locker. “Thanks for helping us out earlier.”

“Least I could do. It was my fault the media showed up in the first place. Ten fucking minutes after I posted about getting my junk waxed, a million freaking reporters showed up, being assholes, asking stupid questions. I shoulda known better, considering what’s been going on today.” He nods in Corey’s direction.

He’s sitting on the bench on the other side of the room, looking rough. He was quiet during pregame skate, which was highly unusual.

“I saw him in his car earlier; looked like he was getting chewed out by the fiancée about something. You’d think she’d be happy now that there’s nothing standing between her and his bank account anymore.” Bishop slides his feet into his skates and starts lacing them up.

“You don’t think it has anything to do with the actual divorce?”

“Based on how she tried to blackmail Rook back when he started out, and the number of players she’s been on the arm of over the years, there’s a good chance she’s looking for an easy meal ticket. Besides, you’ve been in the shower with him: there sure isn’t anything to get excited about.” He motions to his crotch.