Diesel: A Sports Romance

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  “All right, coach.”

  I jog off the field, take a quick shower, and go to the player’s club area of the stadium. At least I’ll be able to grab a seafood platter while I listen to whatever crap that I won’t be doing.

  “Hey, Diesel.”

  “Hi, Martha. I think I’m meeting the pub people here today. Can I get a seafood platter and two glasses of apple juice in the booth over there?”

  “I’ll put the order in now. I think I saw the woman you’re meeting with head to the restroom. She’ll be right back. She ordered a grilled chicken sandwich.”

  I’m answering emails when I hear the loud clicking of heels against the stone-tiled floor coming toward me. When I turn and see who it is, it’s like all the oxygen in the room has been sucked completely out and I’m spinning into a time vortex.

  It’s Olivia.

  That cold-hearted bitch.

  She is stunning.

  Her breasts seem fuller, her ass sits round and high, and her hair falls in long luscious coils past her shoulders. She’s wearing a fitted V-neck sweater, some black leggings underneath, and a pair of thigh-high, high-heeled boots that make my dick hard.

  “Hello, Mason.”

  I don’t respond.

  I just gawk.

  I want to rip off all of her clothes and fuck her senseless in the middle of this lounge.

  She slides into the other side of the booth

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “I got this job before you were traded here. I even thought about quitting once I heard you were coming but—”

  “You love football too much to ever give up this job.”

  “You’re right … I do.”

  “So what is this meeting about?”

  “The club wants a targeted PR campaign with you in the center of it.”

  “Do you have a manager position already?”

  “No.”

  “So this is personal.”

  She shuts her eyes tightly and exhales.

  “They found out that we were neighbors. They’re using me in hopes that you’ll cooperate. Most players don’t want to do the PR tours. It can take up a lot of your off time.”

  “Do they know anything else about us?”

  “No.”

  Martha walks over with the food.

  “Grilled chicken for the lady and seafood platter for the wide receiver.”

  I wink at Martha.

  “Thanks, babe.”

  “I see you’re still a favorite with the ladies.”

  “I see you still like a grilled chicken sandwich.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, my tastes have elevated.”

  I mean that as a jab, but I’m sorry as soon as the words fly out of my mouth. I don’t want to hurt her, but I don’t want to make this easy either. This woman broke my fucking heart, and I’ll never let her back in.

  She pulls a notebook out of her bag.

  “There are a few events we thought you would be a great fit for. I can go over them if you like. See if you’re interested in participating.”

  “What’s in it for me?” I say as I pop a grilled shrimp in my mouth.

  I laugh as a thin layer of sweat forms on the tip of her nose. She was always hot and always messy.

  “The way I see it, you need this publicity just as badly as the team does.”

  “Is that right?”

  “You’ve struggled a bit since you’ve entered the league.”

  “Have I?”

  “It’s not totally your fault.”

  “It’s not my fault at all. I’ve been injured.”

  “Well, yes, and no. You also don’t get along with any of your quarterbacks.”

  “Because those asshats don’t throw me the ball when I’m wide open.”

  “You have to have chemistry.”

  “It’s a simple game. You throw the ball to the open man on the field. We don’t need to be best friends for that. And guess what? You’re not my football guru anymore. I don’t need your advice or guidance. I need you to tell me what you’re here for and then go about your business like you have for the last five fucking years.”

  There’s an uncomfortable silence between us.

  Then she speaks.

  “I tried calling you. The day you were drafted. Then the day you went to Arizona. Then the day your dad had the heart attack.”

  “Must have been my service acting janky,” I lie.

  “I figured it was something like that.”

  “So … continue.”

  She takes a bite of her sandwich.

  “It would be a series of publicity shoots, late-night talk show appearances, and some autograph signings at local community events.”

  “How long would this take?”

  “There would be a six-month commitment, and if your schedule allowed it then maybe longer.”

  A blob of ketchup spills on her sweater and she doesn’t even see it. I lean over with a napkin and wipe it off.

  “Still messy as usual.”

  She doesn’t respond.

  My hand lingers a little longer than it should.

  “Are you going to be at all these events?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  My dick applauds.

  “I’ll commit to three events to start with and then we’ll see after that.”

  “That’s fair.”

  A pretty smile spreads on her face. It’s a smile that I’ve missed with every fiber in my body. I used to do whatever I could to see that smile. Especially when we were making love. It’s addictive.

  “There you are!”

  Like a glass of cold water, Sarah walks into the lounge and wakes me the hell up. Her greeting reminds me of where I am and who I am. There is no Diesel and Jersey girl anymore. We are not in college shooting the shit at The End Zone. We are two grown people who have moved on in the real world.

  “Hey,” I greet Sarah with a kiss on the cheek.

  “The trainers said you were in here. Who’s this?”

  She takes a seat next to me.

  “This is Olivia. She works Nighthawk publicity. Olivia, this is my girl Sarah.”

  Olivia looks completely shocked. Maybe it’s because she didn’t think I’d be seeing anyone, or maybe it’s because she knows Sarah from somewhere but she isn’t sure where. That’s because Sarah is a known character actress. She’s one of those actresses that you’ve seen a million times in shows, but you don’t ever quite catch their real names.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Sarah extends her hand to Olivia. They shake hands, but it doesn’t get past me that Olivia wipes it on her leggings.

  “Likewise.”

  “Is this the Olivia that you grew up with, Diesel?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you. You played football with D, and Simon, and Pete when you were kids, right? You were like their little warrior.”

  “That’s a way to put it.” Olivia stands up.

  “Well, Mason, I’ll be in contact with you to schedule the first event. It will probably be something for PBS. It was good seeing you and nice meeting you, Sarah.”

  “You should come to the housewarming!” Sarah blurts out.

  I could stop this before it goes too far, but I’d rather just let it play out.

  “Housewarming?”

  “Had to move to the big city now that D is playing here. It’s a great place with amazing views.”

  “Oh, so did I. I bet yours is nicer though.”

  “It’s definitely nice. We’d love to have you. I’m sure the guys will be excited to see you too.”

  “Well, um—”

  “I don’t think Olivia has time for that, love. She’s probably really busy with her new job. It’s pretty much all she cares about.”

  Olivia glares at me with those two mismatched eyes of hers.

  “Nope,” she says through gritted t
eeth. “I think I can make it. Send me the details.”

  30

  Olivia

  “What a clusterfuck.”

  “I realize that, Kira.”

  “Put the phone closer to your mouth. I can’t hear enough of your stinky attitude.”

  “Hardy, har, har.”

  “You’re not actually going to that housewarming thing are you?”

  “I am.”

  “Just a few weeks ago you told me you were over him.”

  “And I am over him.”

  “Then why are you going over to his apartment that he shares with his girlfriend. What are you trying to do? Punish yourself for breaking up with him?”

  “He was just in the news with some other chick. How could that teeny tiny actress be his real girlfriend? She’s not his type at all.”

  “And your point? Why are you so concerned about what his type is if you’re over him.”

  “I’m not. Forget I mentioned her. I just want to show him that we will be able to work together just fine, and that I’m a grown-ass woman, and that I’ve moved on.”

  “You are setting yourself up, chica. This isn’t going to end well for you.”

  “It will be fine. I’ll have one drink, a few hors d’oeuvres, because I know there will be a ton of them, and then I’ll leave.”

  “Keep it classy.”

  I always do.

  Mason and Sarah live in a beautifully decorated penthouse apartment on the Upper West Side. I’m surprised though, because it’s a very sleek, modern apartment with a lot of his memorabilia displayed around the main living areas—not a lot of traditional feminine touches, and she looks like the type that would have floral shit everywhere.

  I’m wearing a soft pink, sleeveless dress that is fitted in the bodice and flares below the waist. It has lots of movement and best of all it pops against the color of my skin. I wanted to look pretty, but I also wanted to make sure that I didn’t look like I was trying too hard. I think I succeeded.

  “Jersey girl!”

  Simon and Pete yell my old nickname from across the room. As soon as I see them, I remember just how much I miss those fatheads. They were a pain in the butt when we were younger, but they grew to be really nice guys. I was sad when I lost them in the breakup, but they always belonged to Mason. They were his friends first.

  “Hi, guys.”

  “Shit, look at you. You’re wearing dresses now?”

  “I’m a lady.” I laugh. “So you better act right.”

  “Then let me get the lady a drink. Mason’s pulled out all the good liquor tonight.”

  “Then I’ll take a little Prosecco.”

  “Coming right up.”

  As Pete goes over to the bar, I catch up with Simon.

  “So I hear you work for the Nighthawks now.”

  “Yeah, I got the job with the publicity department a couple of months ago.”

  “And you’ll be working with our boy?”

  “Just a little.”

  “He’s had a tough go of things so far in the league.”

  “I’ve read some stuff. I’m aware.”

  “What you read is only half of the story. When you left him, you broke his heart, Olivia. He became someone unrecognizable. He’s always injured now because he doesn’t take good care of himself. It’s not like back when you were in his life to make sure that he did. There’s no accountability.”

  “Is that how you saw it? That I took care of him?”

  “Of course—Mason was totally dependent on your crazy ass. His uncle and his dad had good intentions, but sometimes they pressured him too much. They always saw big lights and dollar signs when they talked football with him. You saw the love of the game. And you simply saw Mason.”

  I look at Simon and say with a crack in my voice, “I loved him, Simon.”

  “I know you did.”

  “I hope he’s happy with her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This housewarming. Their relationship. It’s a big step for him to move in with somebody. He must be happy.”

  Simon laughs at me.

  “You think they live together?”

  “Of course.”

  “This is a housewarming for D. The two of them are just fuck buddies.”

  “But she said our new digs, and he didn’t correct her.”

  “Think about why he did that.”

  “Because he hates me.”

  “Maybe he should, but that’s not the truth. He loves you, Olivia. He’s never stopped loving you.”

  I take another stroll around the living room, the dining room, and the den of the apartment. A careful look this time. There are photos of Mason at the creek where we used to play, the old football field in the village, the Snake’s Tongue bike trail, one of his highest receiving yard high school games, and a framed menu from The End Zone at Georgia Union. I may be missing from all of the photos, but I was there. I was at every single place and share more than one memory of the both of us at all of the locations.

  I want to check one more thing, but the door to his bedroom is closed. I want to be certain that this is not this woman’s house. I know what Simon said, and he has no reason to lie to me, but I need to be sure.

  I open what I assume is the door to the master bedroom, but it’s not. It’s a small office area. I blink several times when I notice what’s hanging on the wall above a small wooden desk made of oak.

  It’s a Thunder Road platinum album.

  Mounted and displayed in what appears to be a very expensive and gigantic frame.

  “I bought that with my first big check.”

  Mason’s deep voice rumbles behind me and my stomach flips like I am seventeen again.

  “How much was it?”

  “A lot of fucking money. I got it from a Christie’s auction.”

  “Why did you buy it?”

  “I don’t know. Showing off I guess.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Do you want it?”

  “I couldn’t take a gift like that.”

  “I wanted to give you stuff like that and more. I wanted to give you everything.”

  Mason walks closer behind me. I can feel his hard body on my ass. His breath on my neck.

  “But you destroyed it.”

  He closes the door behind him.

  “Mason.”

  “Turn around, Olivia.”

  I slowly turn around to face him, but I can’t meet his eyes. I’m too ashamed. Too full of regrets. I handled things badly five years ago.

  “Look at me,” he demands. “Why are you here tonight?”

  “To congratulate you and Sarah.”

  “Liar.” He sneers.

  “To show you we can work together.”

  “Liar.”

  I start biting my lip. There are words swirling around in my head. Words that I wish I was brave enough to say. I just can’t get them out.

  “Be the girl I met when I was eleven years old. The girl so tough that she played tackle football with a bunch of boys she’d never met before. Be brave. Say what it is you’ve come to say.”

  Tears begin to cloud my eyes.

  The words are still stuck inside of me.

  Mason pulls me into him and places a kiss on each of my eyelids.

  “These are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. This one”—he kisses my left lid—“is larger than the other.” Then he kisses the right.

  I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him so tightly that he may not be able to ever breathe again.

  “I missed you so much, Mason,” I say. “I’m sorry for what I did to us.”

  He plunks his head on top of mine.

  “Finally.”

  31

  Olivia

  I try to stop myself, but the tears just start to fall, and I’m crying hysterically now. Sobbing like a little girl as I lean dead in the center of his chest.

  There is quiet between us as he uses a finger to play with my hair while he
waits patiently for me to release all of the regret and guilt that I’ve had pent up. When my crying slows down, he sits me down on the bed, and walks across the room and locks the door.

  “What are you doing, Mason?” I whisper.

  He says nothing as he bends down and starts taking off my shoes one at a time. He lightly massages each foot and starts using his hands to slowly knead my legs. I am breathless by the time he slides his hands under my dress and reaches the crease of my thighs and hips. He looks up at me with surprise once he realizes that I’m not wearing any underwear, and it flips a switch on inside of him that I fondly remember from years ago.

  He wants me.

  With almost brute force he slides my hips forward on the bed and maneuvers his head underneath my dress. Growling as he kisses the inside of my thighs and rubs the lips of my sex with his fingers.

  “I have been dreaming about this pussy for five fucking years.” He snarls fiercely into my skin. “This fat, wet, pussy.”

  I immediately grow wet in between my legs.

  “It seems like it’s been dreaming about me too,” he says in a voice thick with need. “Look how happy she is to see me.”

  He devours me like he is eating his favorite meal. Like it’s delicious and desires seconds and maybe thirds. It doesn’t take long before my legs begin to shake as I try to hold my orgasm at bay.

  “Not yet,” he barks at me. “Not fucking yet.”

  He comes from under my dress and flips me completely over. Leaning completely at a ninety-degree angle on the bed. Feet on the floor. He stretches my arms in front of me on the bed and demands that I keep them there.

  “Don’t move.”

  He lifts my dress and smacks me on one ass cheek.

  Whack!

  And then the other.

  I hear him open a drawer and pull out a little foil condom packet. He puts the condom near my mouth and demands that I help him open it with my teeth. I can tell that he is stroking his dick with his other free hand. He is going to fuck me senseless with Sarah in the other room, and I’m going to let him.

  “Tear it open.”

  There’s no turning back at this point, but I ask the question anyway.