Crew (Hockey Royalty #3)

10. Liv

Chapter 10

Liv

I 'm staring at the number on the Vegas hotel stationary when there's a knock at my bedroom door. I know it's only a matter of moments until Tenley opens the door and I can't even be mad at her. She's going to be carrying my favorite Sprinkles cupcake with a candle in it. She's been waking me up on my birthday like this since we moved to Los Angeles together years ago. I don't hate it.

I tuck Crew’s phone number under my pillow and smile as there’s one more quick knock and the handle turns as soon as I call. “Come in!”

She starts singing immediately. It's god-awful. Tenley is so many things—smart, sassy, stunning—but she has the voice of a cat caught in a car wash. Hopelessly tone deaf. "Happy birthday dear Livvvveeeeee." She finishes moving the hand she was using to shield the candle on the cupcake from the motion of her walking to my bed. "Happy birthday to youuuuuu!"

I grin. “Thank you.”

“One salted caramel custard cupcake for the bestest cousin in the world.” Tenley smiles. “Don’t tell the others I said that. Now make a wish! And make it good.”

My mind instantly fills with Crew's handsome face propositioning me right before Tate and the others barged in. But I don't wish for a second time with Crew because that's not something that seems unreachable like a wish should be. All I have to do is call the number I have under my pillow.

“Oh Liv, please stop overthinking it.” Tenley urges softly.

I smile back guiltily. My eyes drift to my phone charging on the night table. There’s a voicemail on there from the police. Officer Morales, who was in charge of my case, left it last night but I haven’t checked it yet.

“Seriously Livvy I love you but you’re letting wax ruin all that expensive icing,” Tenley says and I close my eyes.

I wish that six months from now I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life and every worry I have right now is gone.

I blow out the candle. Tenley lets out a cheer and hands me my treat. She crawls up and sits next to me on the bed. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“Mom got me a massage at the Beverly Wilshire Spa,” I explain. “So I have class and then I was going to go there and get that. I think I’ll even splurge on a facial. And then I’m meeting you guys at Marmont for dinner.”

"It's going to be so great." Tenley sighs with a broad grin. "I freaking love that place. So old-timey Hollywood and yet infested with young Hollywood at the same time."

“Yeah last time I was there I saw Robert Pattinson at the bar,” I remind her and she gives me the same jealous glare she’s been tossing my way since I first told her this story months ago.

“I still do not forgive you for not slipping him my number,” Tenley replies with a pout. “Now he’s in a happy relationship with a baby and shit.”

“Sorry I failed you,” I snark and she flips me the bird.

“That could have been me.”

“Do you want that?” I ask because it’s never come up between us, oddly. Tenley is all about dating. She’s always got some guy falling all over himself to be close to her, but she’s never settled down. She never talks about finding the one, like I hope to do one day.

"Hell yeah. I want what my parents have. True love and babies," she announces. "After I win an Emmy and an Oscar for Best Documentary."

“Weren’t you meeting with some Amazon Prime guy soon?”

She nods. "Amazon Prime's assistant to the assistant of programming. Yeah. I honestly think he just wants to get in my pants, but I hope he'll be willing to actually listen."

“He will,” I say, but it’s more of a prayer than a confirmation. I know all about the casting couch and how it likely seeps into things like putting out documentaries too. “But your idea is solid and compelling and different. No one has covered the darker side of sports before. Not with the perspective you have.”

Tenley nods. “Right? I agree. I hope he does.”

“When do you meet him?”

“Next week,” she says, and I hug her.

“You’ve got this!” She laughs and hugs me back tightly. Tenley gives the best hugs.

“It’s your birthday. Don’t worry about me.” I feel her phone buzz in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, which is against my belly. She lets go of me and pulls it out and I almost gasp at the name on the screen.

“Nash-hole?” I say the name out loud. “Is that Nash Westwood? Calling you? Why ?”

“Because he is a Nash-hole and doesn’t care or realize that I hate him,” she mutters and then sighs. “Probably Quake charity stuff or something. I should take this. Have a great day and see you later.”

She hops off my bed and heads out of my room, closing the door behind her. I bite into my cupcake holding it with one hand while I dig under my pillow for that hotel stationery. I stare at Crew's number.

I made the wrong wish.

I should have wished for the courage to call him.

* * *

* * *

“How are you feeling Ms. Garrison?” the masseuse asks as she greets me outside the room with a cup of water infused with orange blossom.

I smile but I know it looks loopy. I always feel half drunk when I come out of a spectacular massage and that’s what this is. “Wonderful. Thank you.”

I sip the water, which is delicious. I’m not going to lie, I feel blessed. This whole day is extravagant and I get to experience it makes me beyond lucky. “I’ll lead you to the facial room and settle you in there.”

I follow her down the lush, dimly lit hallway to another private room. She helps me into this crazy state-of-the-art chair that hugs my body like a glove and covers me with a warm blanket before tipping me back so I’m almost lying flat. “Esmeralda will be with you in a moment.”

She leaves me alone in the room. I pull my phone out of the pocket of my complimentary robe and scroll through the fourteen messages in our family group chat.

Mom: Happy birthday gorgeous girl. I love you. Enjoy the massage!

Dad: We’ll call you later. Have a great day. I love you!

Auntie R: Happy birthday Livvy!

Uncle J: Ditto from Jessie and me kiddo! Enjoy!

Grady: Have an awesome day Liv!

Tate: Happy birthday Livanator! See you tonight for your party!

Shelby: There’s a party? Livvy I would have flown out for a party!

Tenley: Not a real party. Just dinner at Marmont.

Theo: You bougie Hollywood brats. Anyway, have a great day Liv!

Tate: Not our fault you didn’t get drafted by the best team in the league in a cool city. Enjoying Siberia?

Uncle Luc: Happy Liv Day sweetheart. And Tate, it's Canada, not Siberia.

Tate: Same difference. Is it snowing yet?

Theo: F.U.

Harlow: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIVVY. Ignore them.

Another four messages, well wishes from Uncle Cole, Auntie Leah, Conner, and Mae all flood in as I’m reading but I can’t respond because my phone rings and it makes my stomach drop. It’s Detective Morales. I never listened to his message or called him back.

“Hello,” I say and before he can respond I add, “It’s my birthday and I really do not want to deal with this today.”

“I’m sorry Olivia,” he says sympathetically. “I didn’t know. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“Unfortunately though, I have a job to do and part of that is informing you of the trial date,” he explains. “We got one. End of next month. On the twenty-ninth.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I swallow but my mouth is dry. I try to get out of the chair so I can get the water my masseuse placed on the side table next to an aromatherapy candle. I can’t get out without tipping over so I just lie back and sigh. “Do I have to be there?”

“Yes. You have to testify. It’s very important. Mr. And Mrs. Jackson will also be doing so,” he explains. They are the couple that saved me.

“Okay.” I don’t want to. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to relive it. I just want to forget it. But I also don’t want him to go free and do this again. Whatever this was. I’m still not sure. “Did he… has he ever said what the hell he was thinking?”

“He isn’t saying anything. He pleaded innocent.”

“That’s bullshit. Excuse me.”

“No excusing needed. It is bullshit,” he replies candidly. “He has no case. He’s just prolonging the inevitable. He’s going to blame drugs or something, like it wasn’t his fault. He’s an addict. But don’t worry, no one walks with that. But we definitely need to hear your side.”

“Okay.” What else can I say? He gives me the details of the time I need to be at the Santa Monica courthouse. I thank him and hang up. I’m adding the details to my calendar when Esmeralda walks in with a friendly smile.

I lie back and try not to let this ruin the rest of my day. But it kind of does. By the time I'm walking up the stairs to my apartment, I'm despondent. How am I going to get up there and face this guy? What if his lawyer rips me apart like they do on those legal shows on TV? Makes it my fault? Because I wasn't paying enough attention. I was walking alone. I was…

My mother would kick my ass if she heard me blaming myself. Maybe it’s time I called her. Maybe I need her advice. Maybe I can’t get through this on my own.

I stop dead at the end of the hall. There’s the biggest bouquet of flowers I have ever seen in front of my door. My eyes dart everywhere, over the railing and down at the courtyard. No one is around. Not another tenant. Not the landlord. Not a delivery person. I walk slowly to the door, my eyes taking in the colorful roses. They’re so freaking many of them and they’re in so many colors. I keep staring at them, amazed, and then sniff. Even from a standing position, with the massive vase at my feet, I can smell their rich, luxurious scent.

They’re fluffy roses. I don’t know how else to explain them. The petals are all wide and delicate and… velvety looking. There are… twelve white ones, twelve pink ones, twelve yellow ones, twelve red ones. I crouch down and pluck the card from the center.

These have got to be for Tenley. Maybe it’s the Amazon guy? I mean with Tenley it could be anyone. But as I turn it over, the name on the front of the card is mine. Mine. “Oh my God,” I whisper. I mean, was there an error? Sure someone in my family might send me flowers but not this many!

I tear open the envelope and read the card, expecting it to be Harlow or Shelby or even Mallory’s name signed at the bottom. But there isn’t a name. Just an initial. C.

And the note… oh the note…

Olivia,

Happy birthday. Go easy on the Fireball tonight. Or don’t and give me a call.

Whatever you do, enjoy it.

All my best, C

I realize I’m grinning when my cheeks start to ache. He did not. Except… he did. I unlock the front door and carefully lift the vase. Damn, forty-eight roses are heavy!

I carry them directly into my room, kicking the door closed behind me, and plunk them down on my dresser. They are magnificent. And they’re for me. Oh my God. Well, now I have to call him. It would be rude not to.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, open the nightside table, and glance at the hotel stationary with his number scrawled on it. I carefully punch it into my phone. I'm jumpy and nervous and there's a flock of butterflies bouncing around my insides.

“Hello?”

“Thank you for the flowers. You shouldn’t have.”

"Of course, I should have. It's not every day your one-night stand turns twenty-three," He replies and I can hear the cheeky smile in his voice. "Happy birthday Fireball."

“Thank you. They honestly made my day.”

"I thought the massage at a five-star hotel spa would have done that," Crew replies. "This was just icing on the cake sorta speak."

“How did you know I was getting a massage?”

"Your cousin has loose lips," he says and I remember he and Tate just got back from a pre-season road trip this morning. "I never used to listen when he babbled about one of the hundred Garrisons, but now I do. It's much more interesting when you've seen one of them naked."

“You see Tate naked every day.”

“True. I’ll rephrase. It’s much more interesting when you’ve seen one you’re attracted to naked,” Crew replies.

I grin. My eyes go to the flowers again. My whole room already smells like heaven. “So what are you doing?”

“At home. Fully clothed and alone,” he says and my smile deepens even though it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care if he’s clothed or alone. “Trying to psych myself up to meet Leigh later.”

“Who is Leigh?” And why do I hate her?

“My real estate agent,” Crew explains. “Tate bought my old place but I’m not buying his and since Nash and I signed contract extensions this summer, and we’re here for another three years, I should find somewhere to live.”

“Where are you looking?”

“Manhattan Beach, Santa Monica, Venice.” His voice is lifeless.

“You sound like you’re listing contagious skin conditions,” I remark. “No one should sound like that when talking about their future home location.”

He laughs. God, that sound makes me wet even through a phone. I need to get a grip. The point of a one-night stand is that it's once. "I'm honestly not feeling anything she's shown me so far. I just… I mean every player lives by the beach because it’s close to the arena and airport. But I just… I don’t know, maybe I’ll find the right place tonight.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.” He pauses. “I’ve only got viewings until nine. And then I can always wander over to West Hollywood and grab a drink. You know a good place to do that? Maybe a hotel in the hills.”

"Tate, Mallory, and Tenley are going to be at Chateau Marmont with me," I tell him and hide the sadness in my voice. I can't be sad! He's a one-night stand. One night stand means it happens once.

“Yeah but Tate is going home early because we have practice tomorrow, and Tenley won’t catch on if we accidentally run into each other,” Crew says, and I feel another flutter in my gut.

“Look, I know I’m not the expert on this subject but doesn’t one and done mean once and never again?” I say even though I want to just say see ya there. “Also really hoping that you found some covert way to get my address and didn’t point-blank ask Tate for it.”

“You’re lucky I like being your dirty little secret, Olivia,” Crew rasps. “Tenley is his emergency contact on our team list and it includes her address, which is your address.”

“Smart boy.”

“Not just a dumb jock,” he counters proudly. “Also, I told you we weren't on the same page for our one-night stand so I should get a do-over."

“I enjoyed myself. You enjoyed yourself. Let’s not ruin the memory.” Why am I trying so hard to turn him down? I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to do it again with a hot, unattached, incredibly charming guy who just bought me more roses than I will likely get ever again in my entire life.

“Liv! I’m home! Let’s get this party started!”

“Shit. Ten is here. I have to go.”

“It’s all good. I have your number now.”

That sounds ominous but in a very nice way. Oh god.

“Bye Mabel!” I say loudly as Tenley walks into my room.

“Mabel? That annoying girl from your child psychology class?” Her eyes snap up to the massive bouquet. “Holy shit! Who gave you those?”

She marches right over to the roses but luckily the card is tucked safely into the back pocket of my jeans. “A gift from the school I’m interning at. They send something for everyone’s birthdays I guess.”

“Shit. I can’t wait to see what they do for Christmas!” She inhales. “These are Juliet garden roses. They’re not cheap. This bouquet probably cost about three hundred bucks.”

“Shut up.”

“Dead serious.”

“How do you know what kind of roses these are?” I can’t help but ask.

She shrugs her slim shoulders. “I did a research project on this horticulturalist in New Zealand that tried to murder her in-laws with poisoned flowers and I learned more than anyone needs to about the different types of roses.”

Tenley’s second major was Criminology and she’s a true crime addict. I’m lucky she takes everything I say without question because when she gets a whiff of a lie that degree kicks in and she becomes a relentless investigator. She figured out why Harlow ended her engagement while years later the rest of us still have no clue. And Tenley won’t tell.

“We should get ready,” I say, trying to change the subject. “Do you have any idea what I can wear that won’t make me look like a librarian?”

“Absolutely nothing in your closet,” Tenley replies swiftly and I frown. She laughs and grabs my hand. “But I can lend you something birthday girl. Let’s go.”