So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(29)
Violet visibly relaxed. “Oh, that reminds me. Tina at the Empty Net said there was a bit of a kerfuffle in the bar a couple of nights ago.”
“Kerfuffle?”
“Yeah. Vadim and Shay.”
She sat up straight. “What happened?”
“She said Vadim and Shay almost came to blows. Erik and Cade had to talk him down.”
“That’s not like him. He’s very concerned about his beautiful face.”
Violet laughed. “If I looked as hot as the Russian, I’d be worried about it getting punched, too. Cade said it was just a bit of territorialism over the left wing. Weird, right?”
Yeah. Weird. This must have happened the same night the boys were gossiping about Isobel’s “sleeping her way to success” career strategy. What was going on here?
Violet was tapping into her phone. “So, what can you tell me about Petrov? Dick-tabase-worthy or no?”
Her sister maintained a very inappropriate Tumblr dedicated to dick pics and GIFs. Isobel wondered how many of the Rebels she’d managed to inventory and how much they should set aside for the inevitable lawsuit.
“It was years ago, and I don’t remember much.” Timber!
“Have you seen his underwear ad?” Violet shoved the phone up close in Isobel’s face, leaving her no choice but to take it so Vadim’s package wasn’t melting her face Indiana Jones style. She examined where Violet had zoomed in, right on the mouthwatering ridge pressing against the thin cotton.
Her sister pointed at the image. “Left curve. Nice girth. And looks like they had a fluffer on set for the shoot.”
“I doubt it.”
Violet snatched the phone away before Isobel could embarrass herself. “So, you do remember! I’m tellin’ ya, if the Russian wasn’t a walking example of false advertising with the no-no on the oh-oh, I’d be telling you to hit that till you can hit it no more.”
“We have rules.”
Violet was momentarily distracted by a Beyoncé impersonator, who looked far too good in a sparkly leotard as she belted out “Single Ladies.”
She turned back to Isobel. “You’re taking your cue from Harper ‘I bought him, I own him, I’m fucking him’ Chase? There’s this cavalcade of hot-assed muscle at your fingertips. Why the hell shouldn’t you be taking advantage of the perks of team ownership?”
“Like you and Cade?”
She smiled regally, which immediately made Isobel suspicious. While Vi had a lot going for her, regal wasn’t really in her wheelhouse. “The Texan has a zillion problems that not even someone as amazing as me can solve. I’m looking for something a bit more compelling. A fixer-upper.”
Like a certain brooder of a captain with a Scottish accent, a six-month AA chip, and more baggage than could fit in the hold of a 747. Everyone had noticed Violet teasing Bren St. James and how he glared at her like she was something on the sole of his shoe. Isobel couldn’t help thinking Vi was setting herself up for heartbreak, though. Men were incapable of fundamental change—she’d witnessed it with her father, a philanderer who never saw a puck bunny he didn’t want to pet.
Hockey player was just another synonym for cheater.
“Look, I’m going to say something here,” Isobel said. “About dating hockey players.”
Violet groaned. “This again.”
“This isn’t just because of us being team owners and how it’s an ethical minefield, though it is. I would tell you this even if that wasn’t the case. Hockey players have the toughest schedules in all of professional sports. Half the season they’re on the road during the coldest months of the year, which means they’re usually looking for a warm body.”
Her sister grinned and raised a hand. “I volunteer as tribute.”
Isobel remained serious. “The problem is when your feelings go beyond that. You’ll end up falling for one, but his schedule won’t change. Now you’re a wife and/or girlfriend, hanging out with the other WAGs, all of you feeding this vicious cycle of ‘what’s he doing in Denver?’ or ‘the game was over thirty minutes ago, why isn’t he answering his phone?’ I’ve hung with minor league players for the last two years, and even those little shits are playing away. I dated two guys in college who, yep, you guessed it, cheated on me. That’s how my father met my mom, Vi. At an away game in Philly while he was married to Harper’s mom.”
“That’s how he met mine, Iz.”
Isobel’s heart sank to the floor. Of course, Violet would know that. She was the result of a one-night stand in Vegas.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply your conception wasn’t a beautiful thing.”
Violet was all mock affront. “How dare you? The heavens opened in chorus as soon as Cliffie’s sperm top-shelfed right into my mom’s egg!”
That set them both off into giggles. Isobel had tried to encourage Vi to talk about how she felt on the subject of deadbeat dads, but the girl always deflected with humor.
Violet grasped Isobel’s hand. “You know how I said this was the year of the V, in all the ways that can be taken? I’m not combing the Rebels’ classifieds looking for open WAG positions. I just want to have a good time.”
Isobel squeezed her sister’s hand back. Violet was a breast cancer survivor, something she’d only recently shared with them, and she was grabbing life by the reconstructed tits. It was admirable, and while Isobel had had her own brush with mortality on the ice a couple of years ago, she had handled it differently. Turned inward and lost all her confidence. She didn’t feel like that girl who had her whole life spread out before her like a success buffet.