“Do one of you girls have some of that handy?”

The two at the breakfast bar shake their heads. The quiet one on the couch perks up. “Oh! I have hand sanitizer!” She jumps up and runs off. One minute later she comes back with three little bottles and pats a stool.

I take a seat. She pours a bunch into her palm; it smells fruity.

“You’re sure this is going to work?”

“It’s worth a shot.” She grabs a napkin and dabs it in the sanitizer. “It’s got alcohol in it.” She starts working on my forehead. “Wow, this stuff is hard to get off.” She uses a bigger glob, and this time it goes in my eyes. It burns like crazy.

“Oh! Sorry! Maybe it’d be better if you lie down.”

“When you’re done with the dick removal, drink this and come outside.” Natasha sets a glass on the counter, along with two painkillers, and saunters out of the kitchen. Randy takes Dick Yeller and the other one at the breakfast bar outside with Natasha.

Natasha’s used to this bullshit, including arriving when there are still leftovers from the night before wandering around the house. Lance’s pad is a revolving door of chicks and parties.

I lie on the floor, even though the couch is less than ten feet away, and the quiet chick sits beside me, crossing her legs.

“I feel like if you’re going to rub a dick off my forehead, I should know your name.”

Her smile is muted by her pursed lips. “I’m Poppy. Lance is a real joker.”

“Yup. That’d be him. Thanks for taking care of the dick on my head.”

“No problem.” She rubs some stinky hand sanitizer into my skin. “Kristi’s been following his career ever since he got drafted.”

“Who?”

“The girl he was with last night.”

“The one without the underwear?” I’m not going to be the one to tell her Lance goes through girls like a hooker goes through johns.

“That’d be Kristi. And I didn’t sleep with Lance when she was done.”

“Uh—”

“Sorry. I don’t why I told you that.” She pours some of the sanitizer directly on my forehead. I can’t see her face, but she sounds embarrassed.

“Lance is fun. He’s not down for a relationship, you know?”

“Oh, I know. I went to grade school with him; then we moved away for a few years. He used to tease me all the time. Anyways, we were kids. He’s different now. But then, so am I, I guess.”

I’ve only known Lance since I was traded, so I don’t know what he was like before he made the NHL. He’s a cocky bastard at the best of times now. “Does he know you know each other?”

“I don’t think he even remembers me. It’d be better if you didn’t tell him. You guys are good friends, right?”

I can’t decide if she’s a stalker, a fan, or something else. She’s got this look on her face, similar to the one I get when I’m not allowed to order chicken wings.

I give her a vague nod in reply. “Now you gotta tell me why you don’t want him to know you know each other.”

“No way.” She wipes at my forehead more aggressively. “This is on really good.”

“I’m gonna punch Lance in the dick.”

“It’s a pretty great drawing.”

“So what’s the history with him?”

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Was he, like, your first crush or something? Did you want to hold hands and shit?”

She takes a break from scrubbing my skin, and I use the opportunity to look at her. Her entire face is red, and her lip is between her teeth. She’s pretty, maybe even beautiful under the day-old makeup. She’s exactly what Lance’s type would be if he took a time out from fucking everyone with a pussy: petite with strawberry blond hair, freckles, and soft curves.

“He was! Holy shit.” I can’t believe I’m right. “How does he not remember you?”

“It wasn’t like that. And it was ten years ago. He was two grades higher. I have an older sister. I tagged along to a high school party and there was, like, that game, you know? Seven Minutes in Heaven or whatever it’s called?” She buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. I’m shutting up now.”

I sit up, totally interested. This is like one of those terrible teen sitcoms, but real. I love that shit. “Did you fuck him?”

She drops her hands. “I was twelve!”

“Right. That’d be kinda slutty, huh?”

She punches me in the shoulder.

“So did he feel you up?”

“No!”

“Really? I would’ve given my right nut to feel up a chick when I was that age. I didn’t get my hands on a set of naked tits until I was sixteen.”

“Seriously?”

“Truth.” I make a fist and tap over my heart twice.

“Wow. Well, I guess you’ve made up for that, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. Probably more than I needed to.”

She pushes my shoulder, and I lie back down on the floor so she can finish rubbing the stupid dick off.

“So do they call you Buck because you walk around naked all the time?” she asks.

“Nope. I had bad teeth as a kid.”

“Oh. That’s mean.”

“Kids are assholes. The nickname stuck, and after a while I didn’t care anymore. My teeth are perfect now, but none of the ones in the front are real.”