"What's wrong with him?" asked Don, and Sarah spun to find her boyfriend slumped in his seat.
"You're not sick are you," she asked, furrowing her brows and resting her palm on Ryan's upper back.
"No, no, I'm OK," he said, sitting up and smiling weakly at Sarah and her father.
"You're flushed," she said, pulling off a tan leather glove and touching the back of her tiny hand to his forehead.
"Really Sarah, I'm fine," he said, reaching for her wrist and kissing the inside of it, "Just got a little too excited with that shot and the score."
Don harrumphed.
"Yeah well don't expect that kind of luck again tonight," he said.
"Hey, we never got any beer!" said Sarah, "I'm thirsty, and I feel like celebrating!"
"Celebrating what?" Ryan asked.
Maxine stopped digging in her purse and looked up, and Sarah flashed a broad white smile at her.
"Dad's agreed to help me buy the townhouse," she said, clapping her hands together, "We've narrowed it down to three, haven't we Dad."
Sarah tilted her head on Don's shoulder and he patted her knee.
"I just can't say no to my daughter," he said, and Linda the realtor gave a thumbs up behind his back.
"I'll go get the beer," said Maxine, standing and looping her large black leather bag over her shoulder, "I need to swing by security; I can't find my watch."
She frowned.
Don alarmed.
"The Rolex I bought you for Christmas?!"
"Yes," said Maxine, "It's insured though, isn't it?"
Don didn't answer. He bent over his bulkiness and looked between his legs at the floor, and Sarah and the realtor joined in the search. Ryan took advantage of the diversion and hand-jammed his Johnson back into his jeans and zipped up.
And just in time.
"Is it under here?" Sarah asked, grabbing the edge of the blanket and snapping it high and wide over Ryan's head, and Maxine inhaled sharply.
"Nope," said Ryan, standing and pulling his flannel jacket down over his hips, "I don't see it."
"Ryan, go with Maxine," ordered Don, "I'm worried about her taking another spell. And don't come back empty handed!"
"Yes sir," Ryan said, bending to kiss Sarah's cheek.
******
"There's security," Maxine said, pointing at them, "I'm going to ask about my watch. You wait here."
Ryan leaned against the concrete wall, crossed his arms, and considered Maxine's backside as it rolled in a figure 8 towards two young men in matching blue jackets. DAMN she was sexy, and that undercover jiffy lube - so frickin' hot! Too bad he couldn't tell anyone about it - that would make him more of a scoundrel than he already was. Sarah was so sweet; he was lucky a girl like her would take a second look at him. He was just a guy who worked the late-night shift at a bar in the roughest part of town, and although he had picked up a side job as a kids' Karate instructor at the Dojo, he was still not in her league. But Maxine? Now that was a horse of a different color. For whatever reason, she had deliberately stepped well beyond the bounds of proper behavior, and he had been the beneficiary. And maybe it was the forbidden nature of their non-relationship, or maybe it was the way she fought with herself before giving in to him - whatever it was - it was unfinished business.
Then a wave of her arm above the nameless crowd, and soon after, she was up on him.
"Follow me," she directed, as she swept by him, accompanied by one of the security guards. Ryan snapped to attention and strode behind them, breathing in the trail of her seductive scent now mixed up with the cheap Axe cologne on her new escort. They marched past the beer vendor and exited the concourse.
"Where are we going?" Ryan asked, as he struggled to keep up with them, having been washed offsides by the crowd around him, but there was no reply. Maxine had rounded a corner behind the guard and skipped up two flights of stairs. By the time Ryan figured out where they had disappeared to, he almost bumped into them.
"Here we are," said the guard, pointing to a door, "Executive suite 69," and then he unlocked it, smiled, and walked away.
"Surprise," said Maxine, as she gestured for Ryan to enter, enjoying his dumbfounded face.
"So this is how the high rollers watch the game," Ryan said, as he stepped into the room. He rotated a slow 360 degrees taking in the marble-topped walnut bar and luxurious leather-dressed furniture. "Nice."
"It's under renovation," Maxine said, pointing to a stepladder standing on a dropcloth against one of the unfinished walls, "but Jack told me we could use it and-"
"And you didn't bother mentioning that to Don," Ryan said, winking at her. "Hey there's snacks!" he added, bending to look inside the fridge, "and beer!"
"Must have been left behind by the last patrons," she responded, setting her purse on the bar, "Surprised the painters didn't drink it already."
Ryan chuckled then began to unzip his flannel jacket, "It's hot in here," he said, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it on a chair, then removing his Capitals cap and studying himself in the mirror behind the bar - combing his tousled brown hair with his fingers.
"Yes it is," said Maxine, her brain processing his movements as if they were incrementing on a deck of cards she was flipping through. He was so athletic, so graceful, so confident. It refocused her attention on the task at hand, and she rushed to follow suit, removing her black leather jacket and resting it on his. Then she looped her arms around his neck, and arched into him.
"Kiss me," she demanded, and Ryan briefly brushed her lips with his, then picked up the remote and turned on the large screen TV. It was still intermission and the talking heads were pontificating about first period.
