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I’m about to say something about the big pink poly elephant in the truck when Colt’s phone sings “I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls.
“There’s my girl!” Colt accepts the call, putting it on speaker.
“Good game,” Ruby sings. “I’m so proud of my man!”
“Uh, thank you, darlin’.” Colt impersonates Elvis. “Uh, thank you very much.”
“Hey, cunt!” Blair calls out so Ruby can hear her.
“Hey DP Duchess!”
I roll my eyes, grinning. They do this every time. Ruby calls, and it’s an hour of verbal grab ass—oh, and vaginal jabs, too.
“Hey, next week,” Ruby says. “After you beat Philadelphia and get a Victory Monday off, fly to Charleston to celebrate.”
I wince.
It almost feels like a jinx.
Yeah, I’m confident in our team. But making plans to have Monday off after a Sunday win? That feels like flirting with bad luck.
“Can we play it by ear?” Colt asks. He feels the same.
“Sure,” Ruby answers. “We’ll send the jet. If and when you win, jump on Sunday evening after the game, and we’ll fly you back early Tuesday morning before practice.”
“So, we spend two nights in Charleston?” Blair clarifies.
“If you want,” Ruby replies. “I can get you a suite at The Mercier. Or you can stay at the beach house.”
“Oh, we know all about The Mercier,” I say, tossing a grin to Blair. She blows a kiss back, remembering our Valentine’s night there, too. “But whose beach house?”
“No names yet,” Ruby teases. “Other pros are coming that Monday, too, and you’ll recognize some. You beat three players in our group already.”
“Shit,” Colt huffs. “You sure we’ll be welcome?”
“More than welcome. There are too few of you not to stick together. That’s what we want to talk about.”
The more Ruby talks about her secret group, the more it feels like salvation and sin at the same time.
“Will my sister be there?” Blair asks what is often the topic of our late-night chats in bed.
She’ll rest on my chest or Colt’s, wondering aloud if her twin is secretly in an “intimate network” with Ruby.
Blair’s teaching us all kinds of terms for our lifestyle.
It’s only fair. We teach her ours.
Our woman now knows what the red zone is, and I now know I’m a bi-monogamous man. I want only one man and one woman. Forever.
I assume that’s not rare in Ruby’s world, in her group, but she doesn’t answer Blair.
“I can’t… shh,” Ruby replies, “My signal… shh…breaking up….will….shh…have a good…shh…later.” But then her giggle is unmistakable. “Bye.”
“The sneaky little cunt candy. She hung up on us.” Blair laughs before she declares, “Okay. New rule!”
“Oh shit,” I mutter. “Break out our poly playbook.”
“I’m serious.” Blair sorta sounds it. “Add this rule right under how all toilet seats must be left down and?—”
