by Chelle Bliss
Clarence shakes his head as he drops his towel to the tile floor of the locker room. “You’re too nice to that insane bitch.”
“I try to be nice to everyone. Hello,” I say, pointing at my chest with my thumbs. “I’m the new kid, dumbass. I can’t be a total dick.”
I haven’t proven myself on the field or earned a starting spot, something I’ve dreamed of since I was a little boy. With the retirement of the previous quarterback, the spot is open, but there are three of us fighting for the position.
I won’t do anything to ruin my chances, including being mean to Tracie.
“To her, you can.”
I scrub my hand across my face, wishing I could find a way to pass Tracie on to someone else. “There has to be a way to get rid of her.”
“You just have to wait her out. She’ll eventually find someone else to harass, but that won’t be until winter when the new meat hits the scene.” He laughs, finding joy in my agony. “For now, you’re stuck with her following you around, trying to get in your pants.” He yanks his shirt over his head before leveling me with his dark-brown eyes. “Do not, under any circumstances, sleep with her.”
My mouth gapes open. “Come on. Give me some credit, Clarence.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I’ve seen better men than you fall victim to her brand of insanity. They were immediately traded and eventually faded out of existence.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, standing quickly to finish dressing and get the hell out of the locker room.
“Tracie,” someone calls out from the other side of the lockers, alerting the entire room that the nutty bitch has arrived. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
Clarence looks at me and winces. “You better hustle your ass right out of here.” He pauses for a minute and looks around the locker room. “Better yet, don’t leave until she does. Stay in a public place surrounded by lots of people. Don’t let her get you alone.”
“Will you stay with me?” I ask him, hoping he’ll at least be by my side as I try to stop Tracie from touching me.
He shakes his head. “I got a hot date with my lady, and if I’m late, there will be hell to pay.”
“Way to have my back, bro.”
“Sweetheart, there you are,” Tracie says as she comes around the lockers and finds us staring at each other, not moving.
Clarence doesn’t even try to hide his laughter as Tracie’s high heels click on the tile behind me. He doesn’t bother with a hello or a goodbye before he walks away, leaving me alone with her. Well, as alone as one can be in a locker room filled with people, including the press.
“Hey.” I don’t look in her direction as I reach into my locker for my shirt.
The last thing I want to do is be half dressed around her. She’s always trying to touch me, and the way she looks at my bare chest always gives me the creeps. I’m not sure if she wants to lick me or peel off my skin with a small Swiss Army knife and wear it around like the insane fucker in Silence of the Lambs.
She leans against the lockers, raking her eyes across my skin before I can pull the shirt over my head. “There’s a hot party tonight.”
“You have fun.” I tuck the hem of the shirt into my pants, making it impossible for her to reach underneath and scrape her pointy fingernails across my abs.
“I need a date,” she says like I should care. “And guess who’s taking me?”
“Marty?” I shrug and play stupid. There’s no way in hell I’m being her date for anything.
“You, silly.” She giggles and my skin crawls.
“I can’t. I have to work at the bar tonight.”
“Oh.” She raises her eyebrows, and a smile spreads across her face. “I can hang out there instead.”
I immediately regret letting that information slip and have to backtrack. “Go to the party. You deserve a fun night.”
She reaches out to touch my forearm, but I back away. “I gotta run. I’m late.”
Tracie’s eyes narrow as she pulls her arm back against her chest like she’s been burned. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
“Sure. Sure.” I nod, but I already want to call some buddies to work the door at the bar, banning her from walking inside and causing a scene again.
The last time Tracie showed up at Hook & Hustle, I almost had to carry her out of the place. She scared away practically every female customer in the place, stating they were being a little too flirtatious with me. She went as far as to announce to the room that I was her man and strictly off-limits. I’m still catching shit for her little stunt, and it was two months ago.
I start to walk away when she says, “Don’t forget who you belong to.”
I feel my entire body stiffen at her words, and I spin around to face her with no amusement on my face. “Tracie…” I lower my voice and deepen my tone. I don’t want the other people in the locker room to hear what I’m about to say to this woman. “Let’s get something straight.”
She crosses her arms and smirks as I stride in her direction. “What’s that?”
I stop a few feet away, just out of touching distance. “I am not now, nor will I ever be, yours.”
She pushes off the lockers, walking in my direction, looking at me like I’m prey. “You’d refuse me? You know who my granddaddy is, right?”
I stand my ground, crossing my arms over my chest and puffing out my body as big as possible like a wild animal. “I know exactly who your granddaddy is, Tracie, but that doesn’t give you the right to lord that shit over my head. We are nothing. We always will be nothing. If you want to run off to your granddaddy with some lie about me—” I glance toward the locker room door “—then go right ahead and get it over with already.”
She places a hand on my chest and pouts. “I thought we had something special, Vinnie.”
“We don’t,” I say, driving the point home again because Tracie can’t seem to fathom that I don’t want anything she’s offering.
“We had a moment.”
“We had nothing, and anyway, I have a girlfriend. Imagine the scandal that would cause your family. Your granddaddy wouldn’t be too happy.”
She raises an eyebrow, digging her fingernails into my chest through my T-shirt. “Who?”
Like a dumbass, I blurt out the only chick who’s been on my mind. “Bianca.”
We passed each other in the lobby this morning, her coming back from her workout, all sweaty and hot, and me heading to the team’s training facility. I said hello, but she just stared at the ground and grunted as she ran by me without so much as an upward glance.
“Bianca,” Tracie repeats as if the name is acidic in her mouth.
“Yo, Gallo. Coach needs to see you,” Tre, our best tight end, says as he walks around the corner, seeing Tracie and me a little too close for anyone’s comfort.
I give him a chin lift, wishing I could thank him for saving me in this moment. “On it,” I call out without moving my eyes away from Tracie. “I have to go. We’re done here. Either talk to your granddaddy, or get off my case. You’re not going to blackmail me into sleeping with you, Tracie. Maybe it’s time you find a new victim.”
If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man.
“Gallo,” the coach says as he rocks back in his high-back office chair, staring at me across his desk. “We’re impressed with your ability on the field, and the guys on the team seem to like you, which isn’t always the case.”
I can feel a but coming somewhere in this conversation. I brace myself for the “But you don’t have a hope or prayer to start this season,” or “But we think you can do better.”
“But we have an issue with you and Tracie.”
The one thing I hadn’t prepared myself for was for that to come out of the coach’s mouth.
I furrow my eyebrows. “Me and Tracie? There’s no me and Tracie. You know she’s crazy, right?”
Normally, I wouldn’t go around throwing out those kinds of terms, but there is no other way to describe her.
Coac
h rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “She’s different.”
If different is code for delusional, then he’s pretty damn close.
“I have a girlfriend, Coach, and her name isn’t Tracie.” I keep piling on the lies, digging my grave deeper. “I keep telling Tracie to leave me alone, but she hasn’t listened.”
He leans forward and places his weathered hands on the desk. “I was afraid of this.”
How could her grandfather possibly let her anywhere near the players on this team? Her behavior isn’t normal. Her inability to face the truth, no matter how many times I tell her, makes her nuttier than a Snickers bar.
“I’ll talk to Old Man Turner about his granddaughter and see if I can get her barred for the season.”
“He’d do that?”
“Listen.” He rubs his hands together slowly, staring at me as he pauses for a moment. “The man has a lot of faith in you. He thinks you could be the one who brings the city back to the team and gets us to the play-offs in a few years. If he knows Tracie is bothering you, I’m sure he’ll handle her.”
I forget about Tracie for a minute and think about the other words he said. Play-offs. You could be the one. I like the sound of those words, and I know my spot is solid as long as I don’t mess shit up with Tracie and her granddaddy.
“Steer clear of her until I can talk to him.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I lean forward, resting my elbow on my knees. “I have been. The woman comes into the locker room and accosts me on the daily.”
“Shower and prep at home until further notice. You live nearby, right?”
“Just down the street.”
“Take no chances for a few days. Bring your girlfriend to the team party this weekend so people can see you with someone else in public. It’ll help in putting distance between any whispers about you and Tracie.”
“Shit,” I mumble and take a deep breath before I relax back into the chair and try to think of a way to get Bianca to accompany me to the party. “I’ll see if she’s free.”
“Make her free, Gallo. This is too important to fuck up. You hear me?”
“I hear you, Coach.” I nod, but I know this isn’t an easy task. I can’t even get Bianca to look at me, let alone be my date for a night.
I have a feeling I’m going to have to grovel and pray she’ll at least take enough pity on me to accompany me for a few hours to save face with Mr. Turner.
3
Bianca
“You’re not getting any younger,” my mother tells me through the speakerphone as I wash the final dish sitting in the sink. “George is a perfect match for you, and he can father many children for our family.”
“Ma, seriously. Have you gone off the deep end?”
“I don’t know what that means, but I am very serious. What’s wrong with George?”
“How much time do you have?” I laugh, but she doesn’t find my sense of humor very funny.
George is just as boring as his name. He’s a computer programmer, spending just as many hours chained to a desk as me. He’s socially awkward and has been ever since we were kids, probably due to the fact that he barely left his room because he was addicted to video games. He’s not awful to look at, but damn, he’s about as interesting as watching water boil.
“He has a good job, his family adores you, and he owns his own car.”
For fuck’s sake. I roll my eyes. “So, if a man owns a car, he’s husband material?”
I don’t know what century my mother is living in, but it’s not this one. Most women don’t need a man to make their life complete, and I’m one of them. I’m successful, with my own place and a car. I don’t need a man to provide for me, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.
“He has nice teeth too,” she adds, like that little detail should be enough to seal the deal.
If this conversation goes on any longer, my eyes are going to be permanently lodged in the back of my eye sockets. “Do you even hear yourself?”
From the moment I turned twenty-five, my mother has been on my back about getting married and having children as quickly as possible. I keep hearing about the fact that, by my age, she had three children and had been married for five years. I get that was the norm for her generation, but I’m too focused on my career and unwilling to settle for any relationship that’s less than spectacular.
But by her standards, I am failing at life. Soon, my eggs will shrivel up and die, leaving me barren and alone for the rest of my life.
“I want you to be happy, Bianca.”
I take out my frustration on the dish towel, crumpling it into a tiny ball. “I am happy, Ma. I have a good job, a nice home, and my own car. I don’t need a man.”
“You do what you want, honey!” my dad yells in the background.
Somehow, my mother still buys into the old-world thinking. A woman is nothing without a man by her side. It doesn’t matter how successful I am or how big my bank account is—in her eyes, I need a man. Thank God my father doesn’t think that way.
“Thanks, Daddy.” I smile, knowing my dad’s always got my back.
“Be quiet,” Ma tells him, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to pay for his comment later.
“Hush now, Ana. Bianca’s young. Let her live a little.”
“Don’t touch me,” Ma says with a small laugh. “Your charms won’t work on me.”
I gag a little because I know what charms she’s talking about. “I have to go. I’m late,” I say because I don’t want to listen to my father trying to woo my mom again.
“Late? It’s seven. Where are you going at this hour?” my mother asks.
“I have a date.” I stare down at my bare feet with their chipped toenail polish and leave out the most important information because she’ll go off the rails.
“Oh. Then I’ll let you run.” The happiness in her voice is clear as day. “Call me tomorrow and tell me how it went.”
“I will. I always do.” I lie every time too.
Six months ago, I made a promise to myself.
Stay celibate for one year. Clear my head and my life of all the assholes from my past. I’ve never had a good track record when it comes to men. I always seem to pick the biggest losers. Every single one of them has been a cheater, a liar, or a player.
I don’t have time for any of that bullshit in my life. Their inability to be genuine and keep their dicks in their pants affected my work, and nothing will keep me from my goals.
I haven’t told my mother I’ve been avoiding men for months, trying to keep my head clear to finish writing my current book. She’d go bananas if she knew; therefore, I lie to her because it’s easier than explaining my reasoning to her.
“Wear the red dress,” she says, still trying to run my life. “And bring him to the party because I’d hate for you to come alone.”
“Bye, Ma.” I tap the end button before she can say anything else. Sometimes, talking to my mother is like running a mental marathon. It’s exhausting going over the same topics again and again.
I practically throw myself on the couch after I turn on the television, waiting for my streaming app to start. Over the winter, I started bingeing every television series I could get my hands on. It helped fill the nights and settle my mind after a long day typing away at the keyboard. Winter bled into summer, and I couldn’t seem to find the energy to go out at night with my friends and hit the club scene. I was over nightlife and men, preferring my couch and television.
Richard, the hero and total hottie in my newest obsession, is about to bed the woman he’s been chasing for a year. I’m glued to the screen, holding my breath and waiting for the moment when their lips finally touch. I can feel the tension the closer their mouths are to each other’s.
Knock. Knock.
I groan and drop my head. Even though I’ve watched two seasons in the last week, I feel like I’ve been waiting forever for them to kiss. Whoever is here, they’d better have a damn good reason for picking this moment to kno
ck on my door.
Without thinking, I run to the door and swing it open like a woman possessed because, damn it, they’re interrupting my favorite show.
I’m met with the greenest eyes belonging to my sexy new neighbor. The same guy I’ve been avoiding at all costs because he’s so good-looking, I know he’s nothing but trouble.
“Hey.” He smirks.
The flush that crept up my chest the other day when I met him is now a full-on burn. The man is gorgeous. There’s no denying that. I’m pretty sure, by the way he acts, he knows it too.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Vinnie.”
“I remember.” I try to keep my eyes on his face, but it’s almost impossible since he’s shirtless. The man’s body is unreal. He must spend endless hours in the gym, lifting and squatting, to sculpt his muscles to such perfection.
His focus dips, and mine follows to my workout bra and yoga pants. Although I’m dressed, I feel more naked than he actually is.
He reaches back, rubbing his neck. “I was wondering if you’d do me…”
I don’t really know what he says next because I’m too busy watching the way his biceps flex as he runs his hand back and forth across his skin and thinking about how I’d very much like to do him.
The movement puts me in a trance. A sexless, I-haven’t-been-fucked-in-six-months kind of rapture.
When I finally look at his face again, he’s staring at me with that sexy I-know-you’re-checking-me-out smirk.
I blink because I’m pretty sure my mind heard something completely different from what came out of his mouth. “Excuse me?”
“Would you do that favor for me? I’d owe you big-time. I’ll repay you any way I can.”
I push the hair that’s fallen out of my messy bun away from my face, suddenly feeling like I’m standing in the desert with no shelter from the blazing sun. “What favor?”
He drops his hand to his side, and with the way he’s standing and the overhead lighting of the hallway, he looks more like a statue created for some museum display of the perfect male form. “I know we got off on the wrong foot yesterday.”
