by L. M. Carr
Pouring the green concoction into a tall glass, Rence grins, then swallows the entire drink down in two huge gulps. With the back of his hand, he wipes his mouth. The movement is deliberately slow.
“Rence!” I grit his name through clenched teeth. “You’d better not be with her! She was brutal!”
Again, he grins and leans forward to rest his elbows on the island. “I don’t ask questions about your sex life. Don’t ask about mine.”
“I wasn’t talking about sex. You were referring to having a family.” I cock an eyebrow. “You’ve never said anything about wanting a family.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “The right girl could be a game changer.”
“Is she going to be there tomorrow? Am I going to meet her?” I prod further.
“Who?”
I raise my hands and curl my fingers to air quote. “Your ‘game changer’.”
“You’re funny.” His laughter echoes off the walls as he moves about, cleaning up the remnants of his snack before striding out of the room.
“Wait! Where are you going?” I call after him.
His voice fades as he continues down the long hallway and up the stairs. “I’m going to shower. We’re leaving in an hour.”
I don’t know why the news that my brother may someday find a girl to love and settle down hits me like a ton of bricks. To think that another woman could knock me out of the number one spot I’ve held since he and I were kids is a bit disconcerting. I’ve always been his best girl and biggest cheerleader. Could I be jealous? For God’s sake, I don’t even know her. Knowing Rence, he could just be toying with me. All I know is if this woman does exist, she better be worth it.
With a smirk, I rise and follow my brother upstairs, walking into the sprawling guest room that overlooks the custom-built in-ground pool. I draw back the sheer curtain and look down at the waterfall adjacent to the slide, imagining my brother’s children splashing gleefully as their dad encourages them, promising that he’ll always be there to catch them.
Rence will make a great father, despite his misgivings and cantankerous relationship with his own.
Chapter Four
The traffic heading north on I-5 on Friday afternoon is unbearable. I can’t imagine how anyone ever gets used to it. Thankfully, Rence and I sit back while our driver maneuvers the luxurious black town car through the endless stream of vehicles. My nerves can actually relax knowing Rence isn’t behind the wheel, driving like a madman.
We arrive at Staples Center thirty minutes after tip-off and squeeze our way through a sea of yellow jerseys, apologizing as we take our courtside seats. The arena buzzes with determination, each team vying for another win, guaranteeing a spot in the playoffs. Within minutes, my brother starts cheering, shouting words of encouragement to the players, offering some choice words for the referees.
“Rence!” I reprimand with a slap to his forearm.
Engrossed in the game, he completely ignores me.
Taking a sip of beer from the clear, plastic cup, I glance around. The excitement is palpable. A flurry of commotion to my left catches my attention. A group of A-listers—actors, musicians and models—all dressed for a night out, not a basketball game, stand and wave to the camera, which projects their faces onto the big screen above the court. Behind them sits a bevy of beautiful young socialites who all raise their phones to take selfies for social media.
“Attention whores,” I mumble under my breath.
“Says the girl who works in television.”
I slap the back of Rence’s head. “I’m not on TV for me. It’s my job to interview players,” I retort sharply.
Rence chugs the water bottle in his hand. “And the magazine spreads aren’t for you, either, right?”
“That’s not my fault. I have Daddy issues,” I shoot back with a laugh, but my brother’s face drops. Unlike me, he never made peace with our father before he passed away.
I hold my beer in front of him. “I’m just kidding! You need to lighten up. Have a drink!”
He scrunches up his face, still watching the action on the court. “I don’t drink that piss water.”
I startle when Rence jumps up. “That’s bullshit! What fucking game are you watching, ref?”
Slightly annoyed at my overzealous brother, I grab his thick forearm and yank hard, pulling him back to his seat. “Rence! Oh, my god! You’re going to get us kicked out.”
“Did you see that?” he screeches. “He can’t get away with that shit!”
“Sheesh! Maybe I should’ve gotten you something else for your birthday,” I huff, shaking my head, making a mental note for next year.
“No way!” He throws his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me to him. “This is the best birthday present. These seats are awesome! It just pisses me off when people play dirty.”
Aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black? I want to ask.
Replying with a tight smile instead, I stare at my brother over the rim of the cup and ponder whether his agitated state and extreme response are really because of the bad call or something else.
During a break in the action, the dance team performs another choreographed routine to pump up the crowd. I look up to the big screen and watch as the camera pans over the spectators, pausing momentarily to give some lucky fans their fifteen seconds of fame. Most giggle and wave, slightly embarrassed at having been featured before thousands of eyes.
Rence reaches for his phone and looks down, while I continue to watch the screen as the camera stops on us.
“Hey! Look up!” I smile, leaning into my brother’s shoulder.
When he does, the scowl on his face spreads into a smile. A thunderous roar erupts when Rence stands and grabs his shirt, pretending to tear it in half. It’s the move he’s famous for after sacking a quarterback.
“I thought you were really going to rip your shirt,” I chuckle when he sits down and runs his hands down the material covering his chest.
He shakes his head and grins. “Nah, I like this t-shirt.” Then he looks at his phone once again, the scowl returning.
An attractive woman with curly, light blonde hair walks by and smiles at Rence as she heads to her seat.
“She’s cute. You should go talk to her.”
He briefly raises his head, glancing at her. “Not interested,” he says, looking back at his phone.
“Not interested? But she’s your type.”
Angling his head, he looks at me. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a type.”
My eyes widen in surprise as laughter falls from my lips. “Oh, you most definitely have a type.”
I stand to stretch my legs. “I’m going to go to the bathroom, then get another beer. Want anything?”
Rence guzzles the water, emptying the bottle quickly before holding it up.
“You got it.”
I climb the stairs to the main level, fighting my way through hundreds of people to stand in line at the restroom. Like almost everyone else, I keep my head down, checking email and social media on my phone, only paying attention to my surroundings when a woman exits and we all shuffle forward.
Unexpectedly, a feeling of being watched blankets me. I look up, skimming over the faces around me. When I see a man staring at me, I produce an awkward, small smile. Feeling uneasy, I clear my throat and engage in a superficial conversation with the woman ahead of me.
My phone dings, alerting me of an incoming message from Naomi. I type a quick response as I shuffle forward again. The line is slower than molasses and has moved less than two feet.
Dinner with one. Dessert with the other.
A smile stretches across my face at my best friend’s witty reply as I think about her predicament of having two dates on the same night.
I shake my head and slide my phone into my back pocket, then glance up quickly as the feeling of unease returns. I force a hard swallow past the lump in my throat and move my hand to the nape of my neck, skimming my fingertips over my skin. I glance look
over my shoulder just in time to catch the faintest glimpse of blue eyes before they disappear into the shuffling crowd.
My body freezes, my heart thundering wildly in my chest. After blinking several times, trying to convince myself that I must be mistaken, I stand on the tips of my toes to see over the crowd, trying to reconnect with the owner of sapphire eyes, but they seem to have vanished.
My anxiety spikes as I finally rush into an open stall, slamming the door and sliding the lock into place. Leaning back on it, I inhale slowly, crossing my arms over my chest and closing my eyes, desperately trying to eradicate the image of his eyes. The connection, even if only for a mere fraction of a second, elicits an unexpected deluge of emotions and memories. Trembling fingers comb through my hair and massage the back of my scalp, attempting to soothe my troubled soul.
Eventually, after quickly taking care of business, I emerge from the stall and wash my hands, looking into the mirror. My face is ashen and my hair wild. I remove the elastic band around my wrist, glimpsing the Roman numerals etched with dark ink. Inhaling sharply, I ignore the words playing in my head and part my hair on the side, smoothing it back before pulling it up into a high ponytail. I blow out a slow breath of air and leave the restroom, bypassing the concession stand.
“What took you so long?” Rence asks, feigning his overwhelming thirst.
Knowing only one thing will end his prodding, I lie. “I’m on my period. Any other questions?”
Rence holds his hands up, grimacing. “Nope.”
With only minutes left in the third quarter, the big screen again rakes over the crowd. I turn to look at the rowdy group of revelers a few rows back.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls.
“What?” I turn to look at the screen…
Then I see it.
The most handsome face I’ve ever seen is on the screen, the entire arena echoing with applause. Almost every spectator jumps to their feet, clapping and cheering. Unable to move, I stare at his eyes. The most perfect shade of deep blue, which always stole my breath and captured my soul, seems to stare back at me. My mouth dries, lacking a single drop of saliva to force down the boulder lodged in my throat.
My gaze remains fixed, my lips frozen as both attraction and abhorrence battle in my heart.
Like everyone else the camera captured, Julian looks slightly uncomfortable as he flashes his million-dollar smile and raises a hand to wave briefly, acknowledging the fans. He’s always been a charmer, on and off the field. He was the beloved hometown hero with a heart of gold…before it turned into a heart of stone.
Bewitched, I allow the deeply buried memories to resurface. Finally free, they rush forward, forcing me to think about a time those eyes filled with moisture as the words “I love you” fell from his lips, then to the horrible day he hissed words that broke my heart and severed any chance of a friendship between us.
The camera angle widens to show the brunette seated to his right. The young socialite who graces magazine covers slides her thin arm around his neck, leans in and plants a slow kiss on his mouth before they press their cheeks together for a selfie.
My heart plummets, shattering into a million pieces.
Chapter Five
I drag the gray-striped duvet cover over my head and groan loudly at the buzzing of my phone. Sleep had been sporadic, my mind working to provide different scenarios about the interview with Julian. I reach out from under the covers and grasp for my phone on the night table. A quick, sleepy glance reveals a text message from Justin and a missed call from an unknown number. I tuck the phone under the pillow and fall back to sleep.
Hours later, I woke to an empty house and a note from my brother, telling me about an early morning practice session. I walk into the basement and get in a good workout on the elliptical. After showering, I make a light breakfast and head out to the pool to lounge, basking in the Southern California sun.
Despite my best efforts, the romance novel on my Kindle doesn’t hold my attention. I walk back inside to refill my water bottle and notice a book on the kitchen island. The topic is the same as the few books sitting on the coffee table. While I enjoy romance and the occasional psychological thriller, I find Rence’s curiosity of the human mind boring.
I pick it up and turn to one of the pages marked with a Post-It. I scan the medical gibberish, close the book and laugh sardonically, thinking perhaps I should read it to find out if there is a way to mentally block a person, like on social media.
Once again, unbidden memories of Julian creep into my mind. I close my eyes and try to remember the day he left for college, hoping my brain will slap me in the face with the truth that Julian MacIntyre is a liar and a cheater. Seeing him last night has thrown me off completely, but I know just the diversion I need. I grab my phone and pull up my contacts, pressing the button next to one.
“Hey,” I say once he answers as I walk back to the pool.
“Good morning.”
Justin’s reply is casual, but I detect apprehension in his tone.
“Everything okay?” I ask, turning my chaise to maximize my exposure to the sun’s rays.
“I didn’t get much sleep.”
“That makes two of us.”
“You should’ve called me. We could’ve talked.”
I sigh heavily, indicating my reluctance to broach that subject again.
“How’s the weather?” he asks hesitantly, clearly trying to engage in small talk.
I chuckle. “It’s Southern California. It’s gorgeous.” I wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder while I apply suntan lotion.
“What are you gonna do?” he asks.
I debate an appropriate response. I’m unsure whether he’s referring to our quandary or my plans for the day. I wish I could tell him what he wants to hear, but I can’t. An unexpected feeling of empathy rises in me upon hearing the sorrow in his voice. I understand the pain of unrequited love.
“I… I am going to smear some more coconut-scented lotion all over myself.”
Justin, like most men, can be distracted by anything of a sexual nature. While I don’t want to hurt him or cause any more contention, I know one thing I can do that will surely bring him pleasure.
“Oops.” I giggle. “Seems I spilled a little down my leg.”
“AJ…,” he breathes heavily.
Salacious words about coating my body with warm, thick liquid slip from my lips. With each sordid detail of pleasure, I hear Justin’s moans. I have no doubt he has grabbed his cock, stroking hard. When he grunts his release, a smile spreads across my face knowing he is sated…for a little while.
“You are amazing.”
I close my eyes. “Listen, I’ve got another call coming in. I’ll talk to you later.” I quickly end the call.
§
I sigh as I take off my clothes for the third time. Nothing looks right. Knowing I need to go, I finally decide on a pair of dark, skinny jeans and a flowing, white, V-neck tunic belted at the waist. Despite adding even more inches to my height, I slip on a sexy pair of leopard-print heels. I towel dry my hair and run my fingers through it, letting the long waves cascade around my shoulders. I keep my makeup relatively light, adding some blush, a little mascara and some red color to my lips.
“Let’s go!” my brother calls from downstairs. “We’re gonna be late! You know how the traffic is around here.”
I chuckle at his words because, unlike my sibling, punctuality is my middle name.
My heels click as I carefully walk down the wide staircase. Rence looks up from his phone as I pout dramatically. “Sorry. I only meant to nap for twenty minutes. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Rence’s green eyes widen as they travel from my head to my toes. With a subtle shake of his head, he releases an exasperated breath. “What the hell are you wearing? You know we’re just going to eat in Huntington Beach, right? Don’t get any ideas about dragging me to some club!”
I purse my lips and roll my eyes, reaching
up to squeeze his cheeks. “Stop. It’s your birthday and we’re going out.” I wink. “Besides, you never know who you might run into.” I waggle my eyebrows and grin.
“If I throw a punch tonight, it’ll be your fault.” Rence huffs and curses under his breath.
I follow him out the door, closing it behind us. “Last time I checked, I was thirty-five, not fifteen. I don’t need a bodyguard. Just promise you won’t drive like a maniac again.”
Rence climbs into his truck and tosses me a hard look as I click my seat belt. “Would I ever let anyone hurt you? You’re my kid sister. I’ll always protect you.”
A sad, crooked smile emerges. “I know that. You’ve always got my back. And I’ve got yours…especially when it comes to those vultures who just want your money.”
Pulling onto the street, he grins roguishly. “They don’t just want my money.”
“Eww, Rence!” I gag. “That’s disgusting! When was the last time you had a real relationship?”
My brother chuckles, glancing at me with raised eyebrows. “Well, look at the pot calling the kettle black.”
I shoot back angrily. “I have…relationships. I mean… I… We…” I cross my arms over my chest, looking out my window. “How about you just mind your business?”
“Relax, sis. No need to get your panties in a bunch. Honestly, if you really must know, I met someone.”
I swing my eyes to his. “You did?”
His lips twitching, as if trying not to smile, my brother nods. “On New Year’s Eve.”
“This year? But weren’t you in Chicago for a game?”
“I was,” he confirms, not giving me any more information.
I shake my head and purse my red lips. “Hooking up with some random woman after bottles of expensive champagne doesn’t really constitute a relationship.”
Rence sighs. “I’ll have you know I actually liked this one. We talked almost every day…” He frowns, “then she just stopped texting me.”
I reach over and tug on his unkempt facial hair. “Maybe you scared her off. You do kind of look like a grizzly bear.”
